healing from art school

part 1.

I started painting again this year, after many years off.

I have been painting to explore play, to explore color, to commune with my ancestors and to feel closer to the landscapes of home (South Carolina).

I’ve been painting as I re-read Song of Solomon, my favorite novel by Toni Morrison. I’ve been painting as I experiment with making new ice cream flavors and as a form of prayer. I’ve also been painting to keep my hands busy and get my mind still.

It feels energizing.

I remember my first painting class that I took as an undergraduate photography student. I signed up for a painting class because I had always been curious and it seemed fun- although I was super intimidated by the medium! I was filled with nerves and excitement as I learned about figure drawing, acrylic, oil, perspective, color theory. It was thrilling yet I deeply felt like I was starting way too late and compared myself to classmates who had been painting since childhood.

My first critiques were encouraging and I received positive feedback from classmates who I admired and professors to my surprise!

I remember one day during a figure drawing session one of my professors said “You need to learn how to draw!” My already shaky insecure self felt HEARTBROKEN. I continued and finished the class though and even took a summer painting class afterward. During my summer class I made a series of paintings based on the documentary photography of Phyllis Galembo. I absolutely loved her work and the photographs of spiritual ceremony and ritual in Haiti and Benin- yet at the end of that summer I threw my paintings away.

Why did I do that I often wonder- I liked them- but part of me thought they weren’t “conceptual” enough or that I started painting too late! Can you imagine???

I felt I had so much to prove.

And realistically I was carrying the weight of being the first person in my family (myself, my mother and sister) to go to and complete college. I was also in an environment where I was one of very few Black students and often felt flattened in critiques.

There were very few Black faculty or faculty in general with the theoretical framework or lived experience that could support me in my exploration of spirituality as political and deeply conceptual in a real way. This felt extremely isolating and stifling of my expression- but I continued on in my research about ceremony, secular dance as sacred and Afro diaspora spirituality.

I didn’t feel held or as if I was processing my work in a space that could actually hold me. I am grateful though to have met Dr. Kimberly Pinders in my second year and other professors such as Frederic Mofet, Anita Welbon, and Ruth Leitman between year 1 and 2. These relationships expanded my perspectives and shifted my life.

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My current painting practice is for healing, research, fun, inquiry, time travel. My work across mediums has always explored the element of time travel, through geography, Black diaspora dream symbols, dance, spirituality.

I am time traveling forward, back, in a circle and I have arrived at the moment I threw my paintings away- come with me.

Here’s the scene:

I pull up in a blue car ( why blue I have no idea!) and I see a young dark-skinned Black girl with a colorful head wrap. I see her reaching into a trunk and pulling out canvas after canvas. With her hands full she begins to walk towards a dumpster.

I hop out of my car and walk over with calm inquiry as not to startle her/me.

I go: “hi are those paintings? They’re really cool, who made them?”

She goes “hi” pretty flatly and also curious about where the hell I came from.

I go: “Wow these are paintings! Did you make them? They remind me of these photos I love about spirituality in Haiti and Benin”

[her eyes flicker and brighten]

She goes: “Really? I actually made them based off of some Phyllis Galembo photos, have you heard of her?”

I go: “I LOVE her work! But, wait, what are you doing with these paintings?”

She goes: “Um..I’m moving and I don’t have room for them in my new place and they’re also not that good.”

I go: “Not that good where?”

She goes: “Huh, what do you mean? You’re just being nice. I get it.”

I then say, “These paintings are cool and interesting and I think you should keep them and spend a bit more time with them. I have something for you- one moment.”

I head to my car and grab a Phyllis Galembo book on documentary photography and hand it to her.

She asks, “What is this? is this for me? why?” and I say, “It’s for you, you may need it for more painting!”

She pauses, looks at the canvases and says, “I am actually a photographer and filmmaker not a painter.”

and to that I say, “you are many things just you wait and see.”

I hop in my blue car and drive off.

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Thank you for reading! If this story resonated with you, I'd love your support. I'm currently fundraising for an arts and wellness space in Bahia, Brasil a place where artists can rest, make work, and feel held, rooted in the same African diaspora traditions that connect South Carolina, Haiti, Benin, and now Brasil.

If you can contribute, I'm deeply grateful. If you can't, sharing this post means everything.

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