Shafts of hair contain maternally inherited DNA, leading me to imagine all the untold stories of our Moms, Titas, and Lolas held in my family’s hair.
This piece was featured in Litany for Survival, the culminating exhibition for our cohort in E22: Glass for Social Justice, at Transformer in Washington DC.
“A Litany for Survival” is named after the poem by Audre Lord. Its final stanza expresses what compels our work:
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.
Salvaged recalls ancestral memory of a sea and land-based community culture before its devastating exploitation by imperialist invasions, of societies led by female and femme shamans before patriarchal violence forced a change in narrative.
The “Manila” hemp and ritual rice in Salvaged, having appeared in alternate forms in previous installations and ritual interventions, is charged with the energy of reclamation.
Me and Tim Tate, our cohort’s mentor, at the artist’s talk for A Litany for Survival. We learned how to cast in glass from Tim at the Washington Glass School, Mt. Rainier, MD.
The barber shop next door and my grandson’s baby stroller in the foreground join in the spirit of my conjurings of generational lineage through hair.
My ritual of growing my hair long then cutting it short is an act of renewal not only for myself, but for my ancestors as well, one ponytail at a time.