multi-media artist. family documentarian.



I have been documenting my family in Texas since 2008. Below are some are some recent photographs, along with a poem I wrote dedicated to my family (and potential Black American experiences, broadly).


In the mourning breaks


In the mourning breaks

I searched for blues –

forgetting tears ain’t blue

not clear as day, either


along the way

I came to think

a blue smoke trails black

not dark as night, either


our blues weren’t blue

or colored


are steps, sways, claps, and taps

our spirits laughing


In the mourning breaks

we play some






we retell some

history, only the funny

we know yellow circles shine against blue


we retell some

stories, about those gone



how Bertha let all the kids comb her hair

or, how she sang and danced with a broom

in the kitchen



how Glen was our Prince impersonator

or, how he shooed us

out the kitchen

because, his cakes would fall


how I remember Pam cooking fried chicken and spaghetti,

because, she lived in the “country”

where everything was from scratch

a whole other type of loving


how Gladys used olive oil to anoint

but, in her spaghetti?

don't remember


In the mourning breaks

we think about some,

history, the missing

who didn’t plan on leaving


we forget some,

history, the painful

we prefer roses, not too red


we wander some,

imagination, the picture-less

like Mamie and Radie


spreading your seeds

fruits and flowers

some bitter some sweet

some bloomed some blooming


all looking for your face

                                    who gave us the cheekbones?

all listening for your voice

                                    who has your laugh?


In the mourning breaks

blue came

and went

drifted into a white

brown-tinged, skinned

and pinks

inching back to

deep red, blood like

thick like


but, the dust cleared

ashes emerged


into the sky


waiting to return

but, mourning






(poem written in 2018 in conjunction with the exhibition, Mourning Breaks)