Caribbean Friendship Bracelet — Hair, Memory, and the Stories We Carry

Caribbean Friendship Bracelet is one of the earliest works from my I Am My Hair series, a body of work that explores identity, memory, beauty standards, and the complicated relationship many Black women have with their hair. The piece is currently included in Fiber Forward at The Gallery at Yellow Studio in Cross River, New York, on view from May 30 through June 28, 2026.

The work began with rope.

I started wrapping and binding lengths of rope with yarn, recycled sari thread, ribbon, and fabric, slowly building forms that resembled braids, twists, locs, and tangled strands of memory. Brightly colored threads became extensions of personality and lived experience. What emerged was something playful on the surface, but rooted in deeper conversations around touch, identity, and belonging.

Hair carries history. It carries ritual, care, discipline, celebration, shame, pride, labor, and survival. For many Black women, hair is never “just hair.” It can shape how we move through the world and how the world responds to us.

Growing up, I learned early that hair could determine whether you were considered presentable, distracting, professional, acceptable, or beautiful. I remember the sting of hot combs, relaxers, tight braids, and being told my hair needed to be “managed” or “tamed.” I also remember the intimacy of sitting between someone’s knees while they braided my hair, the sound of beads clicking together, and the quiet rituals of care passed between generations.

This piece also reflects the experience of having personal boundaries crossed. The casual reaching out. The touching without permission. The fascination placed onto Black hair as though it were public property. Through this work, I wanted to create a space to reflect on those moments while also opening a bridge for conversation and understanding.

Part of the making process became communal. I invited people into my studio to wrap rope alongside me while we shared stories about our relationships with hair, beauty, family, and self-image. Their hands and conversations became embedded within the work itself.

The title Caribbean Friendship Bracelet speaks to connection, exchange, and collective memory. Like friendship bracelets passed from hand to hand, these wrapped strands hold traces of the people who touched them, contributed to them, and shared space during their making.

At its core, this work is about claiming space and honoring the fullness of who we are, in all our textures, complexities, and transformations.

Lifting Peace off the Ground

Small acts. Collective power.

You’re invited to create a textile butterfly for peace to become part of “Lifting Peace off the Ground,” a collaborative banner being assembled in Kjipuktuk (Halifax), Mi’kma’ki (Nova Scotia, Canada).

This growing work is led by:

  • Nova Scotia Voice of Women for Peace
  • Muslim Women’s Study Group
  • Halifax Raging Grannies

How to Participate

Create a butterfly (max 8cm x 8cm) using any cloth-like material — felted, embroidered, quilted, patchwork, or stitched by hand.

Mail by August 6, 2026 to:

Nova Scotia Voice of Women for Peace
℅ Kathrin Winkler
6280 Edinburgh St.
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Canada, B3L 1W2

The banner has already been displayed at Halifax City Hall and will be part of a 2026 Hiroshima/Nagasaki Memorial, with future plans to share it at the Canadian Peace Museum and the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum.

One butterfly is small.
Together, they rise.

Be part of the art.
Help lift peace off the ground.

Celebrating Rejection

Artists are rejected all the time.

We submit.
We wait.
We receive the no.

And I am learning to celebrate it.

During my CritLab fellowship, artist and curator Patricia Miranda offered a reframe that shifted me:

Celebrate the rejection.

Because rejection means you participated.
It means you answered the call.
It means you allowed yourself to be seen.

I recently submitted my Mummy Bears to a call centered on grief. That submission, not the outcome, was the milestone.

The Mummy Bears are for me and my dad. Every year on my birthday, March 11, he gave me a teddy bear and called me Bear. After dementia took his memory and he passed at Thanksgiving 2024, I began wrapping the bears. Preserving what I could.

Submitting that work was the next step in processing my grief.

The no does not change the ritual.
It does not change the love.

It simply confirms that I am participating.

As my birthday approaches, the day I feel his absence most,  I am proud that I pressed submit. That I let my grief breathe outside the studio.

Rejection is not failure.

It is proof that I am still making.
Still risking tenderness.
Still moving forward.

And that is worth celebrating.

Behold: The LOG

Behold the Lamb of God,
still walking among us,
in every act of grace,
in every choice to love,
in every soul brave enough
to forgive.

Recovered marine line, sea tumbled, woven and knotted with yarn , deconstructed line, ice dyed sari fabric, hair adornments, shell, wooden cross, spray paint and zip ties

FIBER & FORM: TACTILE ACTS OF THREADING SPACE

SDA’s 2026 Online Symposium | February 7–12, 2026

Fiber artists are claiming space, building, binding, and constructing works that move beyond the wall and into lived, dimensional experience. Fiber & Form: Tactile Acts of Threading Space, presented by the Surface Design Association, brings together artists, curators, and thinkers who are using fiber to address memory, justice, scale, and belonging.

The symposium launches Saturday, February 7, with keynote talks and panels, followed by intimate meetups and small-group sessions through February 12. Held on Zoom, all sessions will be recorded and available to attendees through April 2026.

I’ll be facilitating a community meetup:
Meetup | Fiber Therapy: Untangling Creative Problems
Wednesday, February 11 | 7 PM EST

This is a collective troubleshooting session. Bring your most difficult projects, perplexing problems, and frustrating obstacles—we’ll work through them together. Come to one or both meetups and tap into the shared intelligence of the fiber community.

Learn more & register:
https://www.surfacedesign.org/events-exhibits/sdas-2026-online-symposium/

Marking a Year of Remembering

This week marks one year since my father’s passing, November 22.
In that time, there have been so many milestones without him: his birthday, my birthday, holidays that felt quieter, thinner somehow. Each one has been a reminder of his absence, but also of the love and ritual that remain.

I’ve been working through the loss with my Mummy Bear series; a practice that began long before he died, when his memory started to fade. Every year since, I’ve created a new bear as an act of remembrance, a way to preserve our bond through my hands. What began as grief work has evolved into something larger, a visual language for love, memory, and transformation.

Grief doesn’t move in a straight line. It loops and unravels, it knots itself into the fabric of daily life. As I approach this anniversary, I find myself both heavy and grateful, for the years we had, for the ritual of making, for the quiet ways art holds what words cannot.

Each Mummy Bear is a conversation between what was and what remains. In the knotting, the wrapping, the layering, I find him, and, in some small way, find myself again.

Classic LBD & Boa Quill

This October, I’m honored to share two deeply personal works, Classic LBD and Boa Quill, at the Newark Arts Festival 2025: JOY. Both pieces reflect my ongoing exploration of how beauty, adornment, and protection intersect in the face of microaggressions.

  • Classic LBD reimagines the iconic little black dress as armor, turning a fashion staple into a shield against the daily cuts of bias.
  • Boa Quill asks: If I adorned myself in a feather boa made of zip ties, would you still come for me in the same way? Here, materials usually associated with containment become symbols of defiance and resilience.

These works connect to my larger practice, including the Blackity Black Blanket Ladders, woven monuments of reclaimed materials that honor Black resilience by transforming the weight of microaggressions into visible, collective testimony. Together, they stand as reminders that what was meant to harm can also be reshaped into protection, beauty, and joy.

Mummy Bear: Ritual of Remembrance

Wrapped in Memory

My father called me Bear.
Each year on my birthday, a Teddy Bear arrived in his hands, a small ritual of love, a thread tying us together.

Then came the forgetting.
Dementia unraveled his memory, his personality, his knowing of me. The year the ritual broke, I wrapped one of his bears in cloth and yarn, sealing love inside layers of fabric. That first act of mummification became a meditation, an attempt to hold what was slipping away.

Since then, I have bound bear after bear, each one heavy with memory. Each one a vessel of grief and tenderness. Each one a tether back to him. By the time his eyes no longer found mine, six Mummy Bears stood as witnesses, silent guardians of our bond.

On Thanksgiving 2024, my father left this world. Yet the ritual endures.
Each year, I wrap another bear., to remember, to weave him back into my life.

My Mummy Bears are not toys.
They are offerings.
They are prayers.
They are the shape of love, surviving loss.

To wrap a bear, is to wrap my father back into being, to fold time, memory, and grief into a form I can hold.
He remains with me, thread by thread, bear by bear,
forever my father,
forever his Bear.

Work In Progress: Swallowed Silence

Recovered marine line, sea-tumbled and salt-worn, is my starting point for this vessel. I wove and knotted the rope with yarn, letting each twist carry memory, frustration, and resilience. What emerged is not just an object, but a container for the silences I’ve had to swallow.

This piece speaks to the moments when ideas were dismissed until repeated by another voice, suddenly valid, but no longer mine. It embodies the raw tension of being unseen, unheard, and undervalued. Every knot becomes both a reminder and a refusal, binding what was silenced into something visible, undeniable.

The vessel is tangled, resilient, and true. It carries the weight of memory while resisting erasure. Like the marine line itself, once discarded, now recovered and remade, it is a testament to survival and transformation.

Alongside the work, I wrote this haiku:

Sea-tumbled cord knotted,
swallowed silence made visible,
resistance holds fast.

Together, the poem and the vessel create a net of memory and resistance—an offering of truth that can no longer be unseen.

Work In Progress: Wash Woman’s Rites

This mop, once a tool of labor, is now a symbol of resistance.

Knots of yarn and thread echo the rhythm of praying a rosary, each knot a meditation, each pull a remembrance. Soon, crystals will be sewn into the bottom of the mop, grounding its transformation from utility to ceremony.

Theda Sandiford
Wash Woman’s Rites
Upcycled mop, acrylic yarn, embroidery thread and gold leaf.
60 x 12 x 5 inAugust 2025