June moves like a crossing. Two bodies of work, two distant geographies, each carrying its own truth about material, memory, and who gets to touch what.
Fiber Forward — Caribbean Friendship Bracelet
May 30 – June 28, 2026
The Gallery at Yellow Studio, Cross River, NY
Artist Talk: June 27 (Upstate Art Weekend)
Caribbean Friendship Bracelet reads like hair before you read it as sculpture.
Extensions of rope; wrapped, woven, tied, and embellished with recycled beads, zip ties, ribbon, lace, tape, and bottle-cap bobbles, pull you in with color first. Hue as lure. Texture as invitation. Then the work turns.
These forms stand in for natural hair: bold, whimsical, and loaded. They open a door to conversations people often avoid, microaggressions, stereotypes, implicit bias, carried in something as intimate and public as hair.
Imagine, hair. The elusive, coveted “good” hair.
On some days and for some people, that is my hair.
Or was. Or can be.
But you should know by now—Don’t. Touch. My. Hair.
This piece holds more than my hand. I invited the community into the studio, five people wrapping yarn, recycled sari thread, ribbon onto rope. We worked side by side, talking through the trials and negotiations of our hair. Their gestures live in the surface. Their stories are embedded in the tension of every wrap.
It’s not just a sculpture. It’s a collective record.
Miami Fiber Triennial: Exterior Interventions — Place as Material
June 11 – July 23, 2026
Threading the City: America250
Miami-Dade County Cultural Affairs / National Endowment for the Arts
In Miami, the work moves outward.
Fiber enters the city as a material system—bound to labor, migration, extraction, and care. It meets weather, infrastructure, and the public not as decoration, but as evidence.
As a place-based artist, I begin by walking—listening, foraging. Plants, seed pods, shoreline debris. Marine waste becomes material, but also record, carrying the imprint of tide, trade, and time.
Through weaving and knotting, I don’t transform these elements—I bring them into relation. Each piece is a conversation with the land and sea, shaped by what is revealed and what resists.
My practice moves across gardening, foraging, assemblage, weaving, moving image, sound, and installation because the story itself is layered.
Rooted in African diasporic knowledge and the weight of colonial and environmental memory, the work navigates inheritance and rupture—what has been preserved, buried, and what continues to surface.
Within the frame of America250, the work traces what has been built—and at what cost.
What does the land remember?
What have we taken—and what remains?
What continues to speak, whether acknowledged or not?
Across both exhibitions, the thread is clear:
Hair. Rope. Vine. Line.
Each one a carrier.
Of touch.
Of boundary.
Of history that refuses to stay hidden.
If you meet the work this June, stand close, but understand what it asks of you.