A Spectacle Following Every Miracle

Can you start by talking about where you’re from?

I was born in Brooklyn to Jamaican parents. I was raised in Georgia. Growing up, it's these different modes and backgrounds that I tried to carve out of my own sense of belonging. In terms of being an American, I also think about my Jamaican roots that shaped me.

Where in Jamaica are your parents from?

They're from Saint Thomas. Actually, my mother is from Harbour View. She's from a big family. The rest of them are from the country, White Horses. That's in Saint Thomas. The last time I was in Jamaica was 2019. I have a family that’s spread out, some still in Jamaica. I also have family in Trinidad, Europe, Canada. I try to visit as much as I can.

That’s great, because I feel like a lot of people who are Americanized, even though they have Afro-Caribbean or a diaspora [in their family history] where it's just one generation separated, they feel like their parents have to act super American. They just get rid of all traces of it.

Absolutely.

You received your MFA from Cornell. What was it like there? Did you find a sense of community of Black people at Cornell?

Yeah. It's funny, I was in the grad program, so it's just two years. Going there to visit and then enrolling, there were a lot of Black people on campus from all over. All over Africa, the Caribbean, which was refreshing. But even so, it was really siloed in little pockets of color. Ithaca reminds me a lot of Savannah. I did my undergrad at SCAD [Savannah College of Art and Design]. It's a small town that has access to a city. Ithaca has access to New York, whereas Savannah has access to Atlanta. It just had a real small town vibe in the state of New York, which was different. It was very different. It's definitely a white town. You think about occupying this kind of space where you don't see a lot of you and just navigating white spaces. That was a part of the experience there, too. But, overall I had a great time. I had time to focus on my work because there's not a lot of distractions in Ithaca. I met a lot of diverse people and diverse voices. It was a great experience.

The work that you're doing now with these paintings in A Spectacle Following Every Miracle, is this a new mode of working for you or is this what you were working on when you were at Cornell? Have you always been painting? What made this body of work, materials-wise, come about?

While at school, I was really trying to experiment with different materials. I was thinking about where I fit in the history of painting, painting the figure and dissecting what I learned in terms of it being on stretched canvas, that these are the materials you’re supposed to use. I felt like if I'm going to do this, I need to break it open and find a way to feel more active doing it. I really wanted to challenge this traditional approach to using traditional materials. What I paint on and who I paint is a part of that.  I bounce between figuration and abstraction seamlessly, there is no hierarchy in my practice. With this body of work, I wanted to focus on the figure. When I think about representation, I think about the two paths of least resistance: sports and entertainment. With this current show, A Spectacle Following Every Miracle, I am looking at the things we take for granted and really make that the focus. The mundane becomes the spectacle. I set out to create a series of figurative paintings with the least amount of figuration possible. The figures in these paintings, they're not on stage. They're not offering themselves up to the viewer. For me, that makes it more of a requirement for the viewer to look and investigate. When you look, you would see that in the paintings, figures have their backs to you. Others are engrossed in their surroundings. This negates that performative way of being seen.

I wanted to get back to what you were saying about sports and entertainment. I read that in your artist statement. I was wondering why those are the specific stereotypes you’re trying to subvert? Were you involved in entertainment or sports in the past that made you think of those two things as “this is not the monolith of the Black experience?”

Yeah, absolutely. During undergrad at SCAD, I studied film and television.

Okay, cool.

From there, I moved back to Brooklyn and started working on music videos. I wanted to be the next Spike Lee. I remember working in advertising, still trying to think about my artistic contribution. The process of being in a room with 20 people dissecting or having a say on the final vision, it took away from what I set out to do. That left a void in terms of me wanting to express all that I wanted to say. That led me back to getting my MFA and just really taking a good look at painting and making, which I had kept doing throughout. So, back to sports and entertainment. Growing up, those were the images or the places that you can see yourself. As you know, there's more modes and parts to Blackness that definitely need to be highlighted and contributed. I just feel like this is the best way for me to add to that.

It’s funny because even if you're trying to subvert something, you still bring it with you because it's part of your experience. You're technically, now that you've told me what you did before your MFA, it's like you're a multi-hyphenate. Most people, unless they're this prodigy and they've only painted forever and their grandparents are painters, blah, blah, blah, it's like contemporary artists now are all coming from places that weren't giving them what they wanted or giving them the platform to make that mark without it being in this realm of “Oh, you could say it here because it's an artspace.”

Right, right, right.

What’s your art world ecosystem like right now? Do you have mentors that you're working with or peers that you have in Atlanta? Or are you sick of studio critiques from your MFA?

Yeah, I got a lot of that from my MFA, so I'm definitely taking a break from that. I'm just in the studio, experimenting as much as I can. I think, for me, there has to be some discovery when I'm making work. I set up these parameters that allow for chance to come into the work. I can't really be excited about a painting or make one when I already know what it's going to look like. It's less planning, less me imposing a signature style on the work. Rather, I prefer that there's a conversation that happens with the work, there's a back and forth. So, what I'm doing now is allowing that time in the studio to have that dialogue with the painting, to the point where I'm getting what I need out of it, which is the discovery. The painting is also free and not contrived or controlled under a preconceived expectation.

What kind of research are you doing to bring all these things together? Because you're talking about using different materials. Are you painting from life? Is this from your head? Are these photos online or close to you?

I'm pooling all the time. I've always been a hoarder of images. That can come from movies, that can come from online, that can come from pictures I took. The work is inspired by either people that I've been in close contact with or some factor of my background or my life. I try to put as much of myself in it as possible so that when I do get the discovery, I can recognize it and have that conversation I need to resolve the work.

What do you mean by discovery? Like you're discovering something yourself?

When I'm working on the composition, it happens on the surface. I spend a lot of time working the surface. They’re not perfect or pristine. They're built up, scraped, they've been weathered, they've been put through it. In that process of putting work through the wringer, whether I'm building it up, scraping it down, if I'm using power tools, or if I'm leaving it outside, the image or the work starts to emerge. There's an acknowledgment of, okay, I see where this is going, and I just follow. If I make a mark, or if something happens by accident or chance, I have a decision to either embrace it or think of how to incorporate it. That's what I mean about having that conversation.

It's like the eureka moment for you.

Yeah. And I need that to keep coming back. Because, like I said, if I already know how the movie is going to end, it's hard for me to go through it and feel it.

And so, something that makes you feel that, would that be the types of backgrounds you're using for instance? Because I was trying to figure out, just looking at it without ever knowing you or talking to you, why so much foliage? Why am I getting this foliage vibe? Does being Jamaican have anything to do with it?

Well, yeah. Another thing about this body of work was to get away from the performative way of being seen. I really wanted to pair the figure with nature, and just fuse them together. Because to me, both are natural and perfectly made, and they're made to thrive. Once that became what I wanted, Storm, there's a correlation with this plush greenery and the deep black soil that produces it. The color palette is green, plush and vibrant. I wanted to pair the colors that you're seeing, these warm browns of the trees with the skin, or the natural black hair with the fertile soil. These types of pairings were something that I knew early on I wanted to do.

That's cool. So, for example, the Scotch Bonnet image. That really stood out to me. One, I want to hear the background story about who this woman is because it's gorgeous. The choice to have the watering can in there, right? Everything's natural, but then you realize, one, she has a dope fit on; and two, she has this watering can, so she's obviously taking care of these plants. There's a story going on that, yes, this is natural, this is a natural body. But also, what's going on when she's not doing this? Who is this woman when she is not just watering her plants?

Great. Thank you for that. With that piece, she is engrossed in her surroundings. She's also not looking at the viewer. She's in her thoughts. Again, her posture is compressed. She's not offering herself up to the viewer. We don't get her silhouette or her full contour of her body, right? She's relaxed and she's caring for the Scotch Bonnet plant. To me, it was her on her own terms. Her hair is natural. It's black and it's thriving, it's moisturized. And she's moisturizing this Scotch Bonnet plant. Visually pairing these things, which I talked about earlier. I was really inspired by my wife bringing home a Scotch Bonnet plant. Pepper is something that we use a lot in our cooking. Scotch Bonnet is like a staple in Jamaica. It's hard to find here. You get a lot of Habaneros and stuff like that, but this is a specific taste that we're going for. Just thinking about going back to nature – we couldn't find it, so why don't we just grow it ourselves?

Right, right. It's so crazy, just looking at that image and also comparing it to The Sowers. You just see a hand or the back of a head. I guess you already answered this, but it was one of my questions, where do you fall in the confines of figuration/abstraction?

With the figure, what I'm excited about is the relationship between the figure and the landscape and just how they impact each other. We spoke about me being at Cornell. That's like a landscape. Navigating through that is different from me navigating through Atlanta. You know what I'm saying? Just thinking about that relationship and how they impact each other. In my work, I look at these power structures that govern spaces and just how they set up different protocols. A lot of times it's just against or anti-Black. So, just thinking about my presence and just thinking about how we express ourselves through posture, style, rhythm, we make our presence seen or known. That's my relationship with the figure. Abstraction, it's more material based. I use a lot of scrap, dried house paint in my work. That speaks to my background of being resourceful, not wanting to throw things away. It's making something out of nothing. In this body of work, A Spectacle Following Every Miracle, I leaned on both. I leaned on the materiality as well as just thinking about how these figures express and just exert their presence in the landscape.

Who are some artists you look up to? It doesn't have to be a Black artist, but I'm assuming there are some.

Yeah, it runs the gamut. Right now I'm looking at Hurvin Anderson. He's a British-Jamaican artist that does abstraction and a little bit of figuration as well, beautiful landscapes. He is navigating what it means to be born in the UK but also have heritage in Jamaica.

How did you hear about him?

 I heard about him through Njideka Akunyili Crosby. I had the opportunity to have a virtual studio visit with her when I was in Cornell and she mentioned it, so I had to check it out. I am also looking at Anselm Kiefer. His expressiveness, abstraction with textures, and the tone in his paintings is just cinematic.

Totally.

Jack Whitten, when he said, "I make the painting I don’t paint the painting," that hit hard.

Describe a day of just studio work. Are you going in between a bunch of paintings?

You should speak to my family. I'll be going through it. There's good days, there's bad days. I work on multiple paintings at a time. Sometimes that's good, sometimes there's just too many conversations going on. I have to step away. It's a complete mess. I'm totally disorganized. I can't find half of the things that I need when I need them. There's a lot of procrastination as well. But when we get into that flow and we get that momentum, it's the best thing. It's nirvana.

What's coming up for you right now? The work is done, but what's the mental work you're doing?

The mental work I'm doing is feeling a sense of loss in the studio. It's great to send the work away. Now, I'm thinking about my next body of work and just trying to get in the studio and do some more experimentation. That's my default. I'm looking to work with some independent curators. There are some discussions going on right now.

That's great. When you send work away, are you like, "Okay, it's out there. It's done," Or is it, "Those are my babies, where are they going?"

Yeah, it's tough. You go through all those emotions, right? I do feel attached to it. I do feel like those are my babies. I am concerned as to where they will be and if they will be loved. But I do pour a lot into them. When they step out into the world, they can hold their own. This current body of work, it's made up of many works, and each of them is saying something. But collectively, they're doing their thing. Each packs a punch. I know what I see when I look at them and I'm good with that.

What do you hope that people get from experiencing your work?

I try to allow room for people to come and enter the work, I’m not spelling everything out for them. If you are looking, and invested, I really hope you spend time with the paintings. I'm okay if you don't get everything that I'm putting out there. I'm cool with that because I'm not making things for everybody. Everyone can listen in and feel something, right? By not trying to water it down and make everything for everybody, it keeps it potent and strong. That's all I ask of the work. For instance, Walking on Hands, we look at that image of a male doing a handstand. It's against nature. So, automatically, there's this contrast between nature and this unnatural pose. Walking on your hands is the most unnatural way to walk, yet this figure is doing it. He can do it. Physically, he has the ability to do it. But just because he can do it, how long should he have to endure this kind of pressure and discomfort doing something that is unnatural? That makes me think of the mistreatment of Black men in this country. This uneven playing field, this added level of difficulty. So, to me, it's as if Black men have been walking on hands when everyone else has been walking upright.

That's so crazy because when I saw it, I thought of it as just someone joyously doing a cartwheel, right?

Right. Lovely.

These tactics we as Black artists try to use to subvert a stereotype or some negative trope comes out as, "Yeah, we're just happy Black people are doing leisurely activities" on the surface, but you don't know where I just came from.

Yeah, exactly.

Yeah, I just love that I'm seeing these positive images come out, but are so steeped in negativity.

Right, right. When you say “You don't know where I came from,” that just hits and resonates with me. The piece titled Make It Home, for one, I used scraps to render the figures. It is discarded house paint that I repurposed. I'm thinking about the past and then making something new. I'm looking at what came before me, so that I am now in a position to own a home, right? So, when we think about the laws and systematic repression, that was intentional to keep Black people from owning homes and acquiring this generational wealth. It's like reframing the mundane of washing your car at home. So, one, having a home; two, being able to make it home in that car and not be profiled, not lose your life.

Yeah.

That is the miracle. It's like against all odds, but through divine intervention that we're here.

We have to get into The Sowers.

The first thing you see is the flowers in this beautiful garden, but you have to locate the figures. When you do find them, their backs are turned. You're denied access to them. Thinking about the role of a husbandman, a person who cultivates the land, tilling soil, preparing and planting seeds, I thought about my marriage. I thought about people only seeing the outside, but they don't really know all the work that goes into it, what it took to have the flowers pop-in like that. It takes time and effort and a lot of prayer.

Wow, I was not expecting that to be the story. That's awesome. I was reading about Lover's Leap when I was in Jamaica. There's something very poetic about this that reminded me of it. Everybody goes to Lover’s Leap as an Instagram destination thinking that they're supposed to go with their partner and take a picture, but as the legend goes they went there to die, leaping to their death instead of being split up.

Right. Absolutely. They don't know the story.

Something about The Sowers made me feel like it had that essence of hidden struggles within love. You’re so intricate with the hands and the hair, but it feels like it's so small.

I also wanted to talk about He Should Be Like A Tree. This is what I'm talking about in terms of posture and his drip. That style. It's like he's taken this normal ordinary task that we've seen before, but he's doing it in his own way, right? Making it spectacular. He has an intrinsic way of setting trends and being an influencer. To be honest with you, Storm, if I was cutting some tree limbs, I would hope to look this good doing it.

How did you do this? That is so amazing. It's just the focal point. Like you did some crazy sacred geometry, just get that boot.

Right. So, that boot was a salvage that came from a wrecked experiment. I was like, these are gators.

They really are alligator shoes. Oh my god. I like what you're saying about posture because the idea of, yes, his back is turned but you're still getting enough of him. I mean, it's a full body. You still get his face, you get his drip…

You got to move his drip.

...fading into the tree. It's like, you don't get me without it.

That's right. There's a merging or pairing of this, I am naturally made to thrive on purpose, like this is how I was made. The tree is grounded and has roots. He's owning that space.

Wow, this is probably so phenomenal. It's so big too.

Yeah.

Wow. And so, is he about to cut down this tree or he just cut a tree and now he's chilling?

He is in mid chop. That's where the drip is.

And his hair too, like...

Yes, natural.

I love it. And his skin, it looks like mud and soil.

Yeah, it's about setting up the work to speak on its own so I don't have to be there with them. The work has buy-in. Also, when you see it in person, the edges, they're not perfect. They're tattered. They just have this unique shape to them and I embrace that, because it happened in the making. Rather than force it into a perfect square or rectangle, I just let it do what it do.

What would you do if a collector wanted to frame it or present it differently?

I'm like, let me know how you're going to get it framed. I'm open to it, but just understand this is part of why it was made that way. If it's taken away from the intention, then I would definitely want them to reconsider. Just put it on the wall and let it do what it do.

When you think about the longevity of a piece, some people would be like, "Oh, I want to frame it so it's protected." You're like, "This is fiberglass. You're fine."

You're fine. You're good.

Cool.

It was such a pleasure having the opportunity to meet with you and talk with you. 

I feel so grateful. So, thank you.