This show continues my proposition: how do we black conscious it to erupt? as the blueprints of ordained violence amidst the constellation of global empire is revealed and witnessed, ass completely out. As social media continues to unravel its authority as an eruptive, non-authoritative force of collective consciousness and social, political, and juridical death, I’ve been meditating on the necropolitics of decay and life, tension and release. This is a question I suppose on imagining Blackness and globally oppressed and ethnically cleansed communities who are rendered and unrendered adjacent to this otherness using the act of reconfiguring the image into a new one. An exercise of labor, a reclaiming in the power to do that. Pretty much, I am uncertain and certain at the same time, and in this juxtaposition, holding space for its fragility. What does the slickness of black oil do when the world begins to burn…besides burn brighter and swallows it in its flames and everything else in between? what’s left? what can rise?

black conscious it to erupt///

“Melodic pauses of a burning world, under your slick ass shoe”

black conscious it to erupt ///