I am a visual artist working in collage, assemblage sculpture and altered books. My practice explores identity, memory and the history of the African diaspora. Vintage and contemporary images collide to convey how the past informs the present.


Don't look! Wait -- gotta look. Don't look! Wait...

I'm watching this election between my fingers, as if it were a scary movie. I can't stand the suspense. There is just so damn much at stake this Election Day.

I'm not watching the counts as they come in; this is almost as bad as waiting for the next birth contraction. How bad is it gonna hurt? Is it bearable? Did we get what we were hoping for?

And don't even get me started on what my parents would be thinking at this point. One born in the middle of the Great Depression in the Deep South; the other born at the beginning of the baby boom into relative privilege. One too sick to vote at the end of her life. The other too sick of the political process to vote at the end of his life.

Okay, I have nothing productive to add to the discussion. Email me tomorrow so I know the world hasn't ended.

[enormous exhalation]

Aged, vintage, whatever