As part of my studies in Globalization and Art Education at the University of Florida, this study is created to understand what has led me to where I am now as a person, artist, and art educator.
I was born in Atlanta, Georgia, and I currently live in Tucker, Georgia. I am proud of my place among the generations of strong southern women in my family. I was fortunate enough to know my great-grandmother. It was certainly not intentionally planned, but I now find myself living just a few miles from the then, farmhouse she raised our family on for nearly 60 years.
In some of my earliest memories I was living with my parents and grandparents in Atlanta. I had a special table and spent a lot of time drawing or coloring. As time went on, it became a weekend treat to stay with my grandparents and take my place at my table to draw or color. I always felt encouraged to be myself. I saw my grandmother boldly assuming her place in the business world, paving the way for women in her time.
As I got a little older, I spent some weekends with my great-grandmother. She taught me how to sew. Although she never claimed to be an expert, and certainly wouldn’t have considered herself to be an artist, in many ways she was. I learned about how she used to make clothes for the family. She was a problem solver, innovator, and did so with a smile-always.
I spent most of my adolescence in a small town, about an hour north of Atlanta. The demographic was different, and much quieter. In between all the weekends spent on the lake, I took to art classes, as means to make friends but also to connect with the world outside, to make sense of things in a bigger picture. It was during this time that I saw the strength and selflessness of my mother. She may not have always understood me creatively, but it didn’t stop her from devoting herself to our family and made sure we had what we needed to find our own way in the world.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after the passing of my great-grandmother, that I learned of her old and brittle unfinished quilts. After my grandmother took me to a great aunt, also a quilter, she confirmed that they were made with discarded fabric scraps from handmade clothing. She also told me that the thread, all imperfectly, yet lovingly, hand stitched, was made from old tobacco sacks. I had no idea what to do with them, besides protect them. They sat in the closet for years as I embarked on my teaching career.
After college, I took my first teaching job in Clarkston, Georgia. Just outside of Atlanta, the city is an area designated for refugees relocated by federal programs. I taught elementary art to some of the most diverse students imaginable. This experience was powerful to say the least. Art bridged so many gaps between cultures. I honestly felt it increasingly challenging to continue creating art of my own during this time. Although a beautiful and meaningful experience, it was a stressful one. I found myself traveling back to my rural town from adolescence and connecting with nature.
I started painting and creating landscapes. It was peaceful to me, to see the places from my adolescence. Connecting with these places allowed me to process, connect spiritually, and take inventory. I met my husband, and moved ironically, to Tucker.
Atlanta has always historically been a crossroads, physically, ideologically, socially, really any way you look at it. It seems like all of this has been amplified in recent years because of political happenings. Living with my husband, of Trinidadian heritage, and being so ironically close to my great-grandmother’s farmhouse, has really inspired me to take inventory of who I am, where I come from, and where I hope to go.
I had an opportunity to explore this through studio classes at the University of Florida. It was through the prompts and notions of collecting, reflecting on what is precious, that I dug out these old quilts in storage, and all the meaning they still represent. I have been working to explore my identity using these quilt pieces as a medium of choice. The piece pictured is made from quilt pieces, hand stitched on paper dyed indigo. It is a personal representation of generational feminine strength, while also narrating the story of Atlanta as a crossroads.
I am currently still exploring these concepts. I have been working to further this by considering what my role is in this narrative moving forward. In this piece, I have combined a landscape painting, of the lake from my adolescence, with my great-grandmothers quilt pieces, and added my own stitching on top to communicate this personal exploration.