(Left to Right)

Bound Chest Vessel (Kurumba inspired) 2022 Terracotta, silk, natural dyes

This vessel represents the act of binding the chest to relieve the dysphoria caused by its protrusion. Gender dysphoria is a state of discomfort with the secondary sex characteristics associated with the gender assigned at birth. As a non-binary person the discomfort of compacting my chest is much less than having it appear the way it does un-bound. The vessel represents a large chest that still protrudes when bound.

Past/Future Chest Vessel (Kurumba inspired) 2022 Terracotta

This vessel is a container of hope for a future body without discomfort. One side of the vessel has stacked loops of coils representing female breasts, while the opposite side has an indication of what once was there. The past referenced in the title is a preoperative state and the future represents a healed body. This vessel lacks the curviness of its bound companion. The straightness of the form hints to an idealized neutral torso that exists outside of the binary, despite the presence or lack of breasts.

Ceramic, natural dyed silk, raw clay, gold paper (inside vessel)

Imagining giving hoards of strangers an opportunity to view the work without me present, I decided I did not want to provide a clear look at my vessels for the required MFA exhibition. The School of the Art Institute of Chicago benefits greatly from the care its students provide in dressing the wounds of its past harm. I covered my pieces to prevent their exploitation from those unwilling to exchange their beauty for contemplation of the ground on which they sit temporarily arranged.

The act of veiling is an invitation and a disinvitation to view. The veil shields from unwanted eyes, while hinting that there are eyes for whom the work is reserved. Veiling these vessels inspired by African ceramic artifacts implores the viewer to contemplate the hunger with which they consume culture that may not belong to them.

Put together to resemble a dream of mine; a drawing of the dream is tucked into one of the vessels visible only if you are curious to look deep inside.

This installation was completed after achieving the orange color of my "unfinished" ceramic work with madder dyed silk. After walking all the way around the piece, a mirror bordered with the same color is revealed. Although disguised by the wash of color, the work is meant to reveal more information if given the time. Walking around for a different perspective, vessels come i and out of view. I wanted to provoke thought about how clay body color indicates state, status, and finish within a ceramic context. There is a prevalent idea that without glaze a ceramic piece remains unfinished. This falsehood directly impacts the way artists view cultures and traditions that do not use glaze.

My dreams often inform the direction I take my work. In one dream, I remember picking up a glossy high-fired piece only to have it deform in my hands as if it were soft clay. The transposition of material qualities across the orange color in this work carries the same magic.

Natural dye fades and changes over time. Eventually the fabric itself will disintegrate, being made of natural fibers, but the ceramic components of this piece will outlive all of us. Unglazed the clay will age, discolor, and absorb parts of its environment. Many unglazed vessels present in museums have a patina of age; absorbing water, food, smoke, and memories of the life they lived. However, the institutional record holds very little serving to make the pain of faded memory seem distant though it’s trauma is fresh.

This installation was the result of a swarm of thoughts I was having at the beginning of my journey in this predominantly white institution. I was trying to understand what it means to choose to make something that will exist beyond your life in the way ceramics does. I have always thought of my vessels as children. In making art, I have dedicated my body, my time, and breathed a kind of life into them. Like a parent, I often carry them lovingly on my hip from the kiln to my studio. Being a person born with a womb, the role of nurturing has been socialized into me. I don’t see it as a burden but as a talent to make the world more welcoming to the future I want to see for bodies like mine. This vessel was the one of the first that I made to emerge from the kiln frozen in a state of melted softness. The vessel itself lacks the agency to stand upright, openly displaying its vulnerability. Vulnerability is a quality we often try to disguise in ourselves. I hope in openly displaying that admirable quality in my vessels I can transfer that confidence and self-love to my own body. It is with that energy that I lovingly squeeze my own flesh with the care I give to clay in the images displayed.

Hand-built with my coiling technique, silhouette inspired by grain storage vessels made by women of the Kurumba people who are located in present day Burkina Faso and Mali.

The vessels that inspired me to make this artwork have been said to be portraits crafted to resemble the body of the woman who would own it; the ornament is designed to mimic her personal scarification. The artists who made these vessel portraits are also presumed to be feminine identified. The shared identity of artist and subject feels present to me in the maker’s gaze.

The vessel of this kind to have impacted me the most is the one I frequently visited during my time at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

The Kurumba vessel in the Art Institute of Chicago appears to me to have representations of nipples and a large belly button below in the center of a cross shape, all surrounded by wavy lines. This vessel-portrait sat in the home of the woman who carried these unique markings herself. The vessel held whatever she needed, like precious textiles or grains to feed her family, protecting the contents from moisture and light. The vessel would become a family heirloom to be passed down to her daughter. Her vessel’s line was broken when it was purchased, pillaged, and/or stolen to be displayed in the AIC. The name of this woman and the woman who beautifully captured her essence were not recorded by the colonizing criminals who put the vessel where it is today and their names are lost to time, even though it has not been a long time.

The journey of these objects parallels the journey my African ancestors took to this continent. There are many similar unnamed vessels present in museums throughout the United States, each a personalized object detached from any connection to personhood. This cruel repurposing was applied to human beings; stealing a person from their life, removing their identity to replace it with labor and abuse. I think of these vessels as symbols of the life that was poured out in the process of colonization; The living connection that was lost in their capture, the memories that were scattered for them to become objects consumed by distant eyes. When I see these representations of women trapped behind museum glass, I see a mother, a grandmother. I want her to be free.