I’m an artist, writer, and bookmaker based in Brooklyn, New York. My practice lives at the intersection of photography and the archive, rooted in collaboration, shared histories, and practices of care.
I’m drawn to the social history of art—particularly how Black identity, memory, and place inform one another. I’m interested in collective histories and lived experiences, and the ways in which they are held in the body and in space. I use photography to ask questions, to bridge gaps within the archive, in family stories, in white-washed narratives of history. My practice is shaped by the need to make those absences visible.
I’m in the early stages of What Remains, a long-form personal and political excavation of my family’s beginnings in the rural South. Generations of Black landowners—including my ancestors—made a life from the very soil that had once borne the violence of Jim Crow. What remains are acres of family land, long neglected and nearly forgotten.
Through photography, oral history, and archival documents, I’m piecing together a narrative of my family’s migration from Texas to the North during the Great Migration. I’m particularly curious about how memory travels: across bodies, through time, and over borders—and what fills the space when the original voices are absent. I hope to discover: What do we inherit beyond deeds? Grief, pride, displacement, obligation? And how do we hold on—to land, to memory, and ultimately, to one another?
Photo: My grandparents, Texas, 1948
I’m an artist, writer, and bookmaker based in Brooklyn, New York. My practice lives at the intersection of photography and the archive, rooted in collaboration, shared histories, and practices of care.
I’m drawn to the social history of art—particularly how Black identity, memory, and place inform one another. I’m interested in collective histories and lived experiences, and the ways in which they are held in the body and in space. I use photography to ask questions, to bridge gaps within the archive, in family stories, in white-washed narratives of history. My practice is shaped by the need to make those absences visible.
I’m in the early stages of What Remains, a long-form personal and political excavation of my family’s beginnings in the rural South. Generations of Black landowners—including my ancestors—made a life from the very soil that had once borne the violence of Jim Crow. What remains are acres of family land, long neglected and nearly forgotten.
Through photography, oral history, and archival documents, I’m piecing together a narrative of my family’s migration from Texas to the North during the Great Migration. I’m particularly curious about how memory travels: across bodies, through time, and over borders—and what fills the space when the original voices are absent. I hope to discover: What do we inherit beyond deeds? Grief, pride, displacement, obligation? And how do we hold on—to land, to memory, and ultimately, to one another?
Photo: My grandparents, Texas, 1948