Date: November 2012
Dimensions: 6.5 ft x 3 ft
Medium: Wood, cast iron, cast aluminum, rope, cowrie shells

These hands hold more than a rope — they carry memory, sacrifice, and survival.
The cast iron turtle climbs a sacred ladder, bearing the weight of a tribe forced to move, yet never lost. A turtle carries home wherever it goes. Like my ancestors, it adapts, crossing portals of land and sea.
The wood is scorched — a reminder of how our histories were set ablaze. But we rose from the ashes, carrying fragments of language, tradition, and ritual, secretly woven into what we create and pass down.
The jewelry I crafted with shells and beads is not just ornament — it is offering. A portal. A vow.
The hands are cast in aluminum — unbreakable. The turtle in iron — enduring.
We are not descendants of slaves. We are the children of the Most High. Of inventors, healers, kings, queens, and warriors.
We are the continuation.
We climb not just for ourselves, but to carry forward what was left for us.
This is Transition.
This is remembering.
This is return.

Date: December 2017
Dimensions: Approx. 4ft x 3ft x 3ft
Medium: Antique chair, cast resin, dyed fabric, soil

This piece comes from a dream — a moment when I spoke, but no one heard me.

In the dream, I was sitting with my classmates, speaking from my heart, but I was invisible to them. No one looked up. No one listened.

And then, the chair tipped backward. I fell — not in fear, but into something ancient.

The ocean.

Beneath the surface, hands rose — not to pull me under, but to lift me.

Hands of those who came before.

Silent. Steady. Sacred.

From a distance, I saw fire move across the water toward me.

But I did not flinch.

The flames did not burn me — they passed over me like breath.

The ocean and the fire were in agreement.

And I was transformed.

This is a memory of being unseen — and then being reborn.

Not through validation, but through ancestral presence.

Not in the gaze of the living, but in the embrace of the eternal.

Date: May 2012
Dimensions: 20 ft x 8 ft
Medium: Mixed Media — oil on wood panels, pencil rod, tempered glass, glass beads, casted aluminum, seashells

This is a sacred landscape — not only painted from memory, but from inheritance. The scene is real: it’s where my father and uncles fished and hunted, where stories lived before I ever told them. But the land holds more than memory — it holds presence.

Welded in pencil rod, the seated forms appear faint at first. Ghostlike. Almost missed. That’s the point. Like the ancestors, they ask you to look closer. To sit with the image. To wait. Then you’ll see — they were here all along.

The installation is a meditation on ancestral reverence. It reminds us that freedom, knowledge, and opportunity were not given — they were earned, fought for, passed down. You cannot shape the future without first acknowledging the sacrifices and spirits of the past.

This is not just a painting. It’s an encounter.

Year: 2018
Medium: Wood, Aluminum Flashing
Dimensions: 5 ft x 3.5 ft

These are the wings of a messenger — forged through turbulence, shaped by resistance.

This sculpture speaks to the sacred responsibility of carrying messages between realms. But flight is not always graceful. I have faced storms — not just from the world, but from within. Temptation. Doubt. Fear. I’ve forgotten my wings before, letting fear convince me I couldn’t fly.

Each feather, each fragment of metal, is a reminder of that struggle. The weight of delivering truth. The cost of spiritual obedience. The dual battle: against the world’s noise and my own silence.

This piece is not about flight alone. It’s about remembering that I can.
It’s the shape of survival — and the sound of a message making it through.