PERSONAL WRITING? DIGITAL DIARY? 

Writing is imperative to my art practice. Here are various thoughts when conceptualizing my art practice.

 



2023-In response to the book: INDETERMINACY(A Book)- The art of being vague. 

                 


This book is an exchange of ideas between David Company, a British writer, and Stanley Wolukau-Wanambwa, an author, British photographer, and educator. In my attempt to document and analyze the ambiguously written text, I've gleaned the following insights.
The book lacks a table of contents or traditional chapters; instead, it's divided into three parts, each comprising 3-4 sections that denote the topics of conversation between the two authors. Their dialogue is indicated by the use of initials before their respective responses, akin to an interview format. Reading this book has illuminated the extent to which our comprehension relies on visuals – how we're inherently wired to perceive understanding as something visually tangible. Yet, this optical tangibility can be deceiving; images hold the power to be dangerously manipulated, morphing into narratives aligned with the agenda of those behind the camera or image. From its earliest forms, visual media has been wielded for nefarious purposes, exemplified by Hitler's propaganda films that served as a tool to propagate his dictatorship and further the Nazi agenda, including genocide. The book begins by examining contemporary examples of the visual's impact, such as its role in documenting the COVID-19 pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement, which the author terms the "5th wave of Black Rage." Drawing parallels between the pandemic and the systemic virus of racism, the book highlights how the visual representation of events, like the recording of George Floyd's brutal killing, can amplify the severity of injustices and mobilize collective action. The discussion extends to social media trends, such as the #iftheygunnedmedown movement on Tumblr, which underscores how images and their contexts shape narratives. The book delves into the necessity for victims of police violence to be portrayed in a certain light – one that emphasizes their positive societal contributions – to garner public empathy and support for justice. This exploration prompts reflection on the power of images to influence perception and construct narratives. Just as a simple caption can radically alter the interpretation of a seemingly innocuous selfie, the broader societal implications of image manipulation and portrayal are profound. The narrative further examines the historical and contemporary implications of visual representation, particularly concerning the portrayal of Black individuals by white media. It underscores the damaging stereotypes perpetuated by these representations and the urgent need for nuanced, authentic depictions that counteract harmful narratives.
 The concept of indeterminacy presented in the book is not merely a puzzle to be solved but a platform for transformative discourse and action. It underscores our collective responsibility to critically engage with visual media, recognizing that our interpretations are shaped by myriad influences and conversations. Ultimately, it emphasizes the importance of fostering a more discerning and empathetic understanding of the images that saturate our world.




2024- In response to personal experiences: 


As a Black woman who has experienced sexual abuse, I believe that women are not truly free. Instead, we navigate an illusion of freedom shaped by patriarchy. In my view, Black women are among the least protected and respected individuals. We are often praised for our resilience, born out of necessity.

The core issue, one that I feel is often overlooked, is the deeply ingrained white supremacist patriarchal perspective through which women are viewed. As a Black woman, I am enraged, and I channel this anger into my art. Some of this anger is directed inward, but I am determined to claim space with the power and intensity of my work. This is not just for myself, but for all Black women who have been abused by loved ones, disrespected, and belittled by society.

We have been submissive enough, believing in our right to say no and daring to express autonomy over our bodies. It is okay to be an angry black woman, we have things to be angry about!




2024- In response to James Baldwin's speech entitled The Struggle: 
  
To Listen to his speech: The Struggle Part I and II He says in his speech that if you're an artist, you and only you and other artists know that you have no other choice but to be an artist. James, in his speech, says—while talking about being an artist—for some unknown reason. You, as an artist, will not settle for anything else; without knowing it, you become driven to speak about your life. When surviving life, "in some terrible way that you cannot describe, you are compelled into dealing with whatever it is that hurt you, and that is not what is important. Everybody's hurt. What bullwhips you, torments you, is that you must find some way of using this to connect you with everyone else alive, and this is all you have to do it with. You must understand that your pain is trivial except insofar as you can use it to connect with other people's pain, and insofar you can do that with your pain, you can be released from it.” As far as I can tell you what it's like to suffer, perhaps I can help you suffer less. He says that artists have an unspoken obligation—to describe what it's like to live. Because no one else can, only artists (this is not limited to visual artists). I resonate with what James says The experiences that make me or shake me are the things I make art about.





2021/2022 - This is a letter I wrote myself when I first came to college. I felt I was mourning a part of myself that no longer existed:  

Dear Aniyah,
I miss you. I miss being in control. I miss you before. I miss you before the hurt. I miss you before you had to run for your life before your dad left.  I miss you before you realized that bad things can happen to you, and it wasn’t just a scenario. Before you became another statistic. I miss you with your head in the clouds, walking on in blissful ignorance. Floating in a sea of forgetfulness, with no consequences, overwhelmingly confident, and with an undeniable sense of self that wasn’t easily shaken. I miss you when you were younger and the world was at your fingertips. I miss you before there was a name to remember before you realized that everyone sucks. I miss you when you were close to your dad, when he could handle anything when he had infinite answers. Before you realized that the people around you can’t help you handle all your pain. I want to forget you, but you were real, and a big part of who I am today. I want to forget how much I desperately miss the energy you brought to a space, that comforting feeling you had in your own skin. But I can’t. And I can’t bring you back. You were one of the best versions of myself. I miss me before I had to cut my hair because it was too much. I hope in another life we cross paths again. I believe that one day we will. I hope that it’s on good terms.