The Proposal

My proposal for the grant would be to create an installation titled "I hit more than I missed." The installation will speak to the conditioning we face as black people in society and specifically to the unfair practices of mass incarceration. The installation will stay in the narrative of my pigeon/ black male contrast. I am working on another installation of this same work for my fall solo show at the University of Michigan, but I am applying for this grant to create this installation within the same timeline in Detroit, somewhere my community can see it. The university is 40-50 minutes away from the city, far enough to make it inaccessible for the masses especially in a city with- out a regional transportation system. I am working to activate art in more public spaces and specifically black art in my community. The installation is going to use "clay pigeons', which are red or orange flying disc used for target practice in sport shooting. I would like to have these disc fabricated with a vector drawing that I have created of a black man amalgamated with a pigeon on each disc. Each disc will have the exact same face to speak to how we are invisible to some in society and all of us have the same narrative to those who seek to keep us in our constructed social spaces no matter what our story is. Our color greets most people/situations well before we do. The pigeon has a similar story of an unwanted animal. They are hated and despised due to a designed narrative of someone else's doing and bought to America from their native land in a similar manner. Both being reduced for so long that they don't require at- tention. The disc are called clay pigeons because long ago real pigeons were used for target practice. The way I want to install the piece, is to have 3-6 pigeons hanging on the wall while dozens are broken all around the space. I want to use the color orange to reference prison uni- forms. The title of "I hit more than I missed" symbolizing the effects of America and its caste sys- tem and the long term destruction of conditioning. My hope would be to have it installed for a number of months in a space in the city. My greatest wish for this is to be installed in a window space in the city where it forces the community to view it and reckon with the damage each day. (This would also be COVID safe) (a concept design is including in my work examples)

The Proposal

“Communicating with your loved one has never been easier!” The words on the screen of a website designed for sending messages and video chatting with those incarcerated. While the tone of the statement, which certainly makes light of the situation, was a bit distracting, I wondered: Has it ever been easier to communicate with my brother? What does communicating with him now feel like?

In reality, communicating with Canaan is actually harder than ever before. The fear of missing his calls because I can’t return them. The censorship required because of who may be listening. And his letters. When I read the physical yellow letter, torn from my brother’s legal pad, it’s overwhelming. One, it’s a reminder of where he is, and where he’ll be for some time. Two, the ability to read, and reread, thus harping on his thoughts and feelings, is often paralyzing. Three, it allows me to hold something that he’s touched - almost as if that’s our form of contact for the time being, reminding me of just how much I miss him. And strangely, that’s the moment that is special.

“Canaan: when I read your letter, I feel your voice” is a multi-layered installation and collaborative performance that intimately facilitates communication between me and my brother, who is currently incarcerated within the Virginia Department of Corrections. The work, to include sculpture, audio, and text, narrates - through a series of letters and conversations - the close relationship he and I have, articulating feelings of grief, absence, erasure, institutional repression, and the personal and communal impact of mass incarceration.

I question: What comes with one’s incarceration? What does it mean to be the loved one of someone trapped within the US prison system? What does my own cell look like?

Constructed of needle felted faces, and quilted portraits, the sculptural component of this installation, exists as a 40 foot blanket that loops through a metal frame in the form of my brother’s cell, measuring 6.5 of his shoes wide, 10 shoes high and 11 shoes long, at Greensville Correctional Center. An acknowledgement that our communication is both what comforts me, and consumes me. Knowing that he’s okay, while simultaneously feeling responsible to aid in him being okay. The performative portion of the work involves me sitting inside the space, which becomes a sort of portal, on the blanket, reading his handwritten letters on yellow paper aloud. Afterward, I will invite those present to read aloud or in silence words from a loved one whom they cannot reach due to incarceration. I also plan to construct smaller works relative to the installation and exhibit them with the larger work. This project is in line with the values of the BBP as it focuses on and requires communal participation and their voices, while advocating for and with incarcerated men, women, and children, existing as a catalyst for change within our criminal justice system and the social perception of incarcerated people and their families. Mass incarceration in this country is a continued conversation be- cause it continues to be an issue. Community participation in the performance is important to me, because this issue isn’t mine alone. Or my brother’s. I am interested in extending my work outside of my voice to gather a group of people battling an uncomfortably mirrored experience and provide a space for community heal- ing, conversation and a call to action. Alongside the installation and performance, a series of programs and creative projects will support the conversation of collateral consequences that accrue for imprisoned people and their support systems, as well as the restructuring of the U.S criminal system. These will include panel discussions, public open floor conversations and printmaking workshops with previously detained youth in the Hamp- ton Roads area. Additional options for public programming will develop as planning with local organizations and sponsorship evolves. Local partnership options include, but are not limited to, Teens With a Purpose, Humanities Behind Bars, and Intercept Youth. An exhibition and culmination of my residency with The CAN Foundation, “Canaan: when I read your letter, I feel your voice” will open June 2021 in Newport News, VA.