Who I am is inextricably linked to where I came from and how that place has affected me. My profession, faith, vocations and way of perceiving the world are all tied to a house, on a street, in a neighborhood, in a city, of a region, of a country. Harding Avenue, Garfield Park, is at once inconsequential and essential to whom I have become. Places are emerging or becoming; with historical and cultural change new elements are added and old elements disappear. Thus, places have a distinct historical component. I carry the memory of a place, Harding Avenue, the street of my birth. Harding Avenue has become more than a piece a land, but a historic and spiritual banner embedded deeply into my being; a container of my childhood memories and keeper of many beautiful stories.

Using art as a tool for social change has given me an opportunity to practice Urban Planning without having to be an institution and share spirit and love without having to convert or condemn. This most powerful tool has helped me recognize that I do not have to choose one vocation over another. I can reveal what Neil Leach calls the “emancipatory capacity of potential situations.” ¹

Where we are from is both personal and political. Our place, while occupying the potential for spiritual center also possesses extreme political and social implications. But how do we even begin to address the political, cultural, economic and spiritual implications of a place. When places are being examined for their importance to a group of people or as part of an environmental ecology, who has the right to defend space and who has the right to suggest that a particular place is no longer important? The art I make addresses with these divergent, but related topics.

The art I create is both physical and spiritual. It is physical in that I assert energy against planer, plastic and sometimes static materials. To reach an end product or “finished” work requires tremendous energy.  But when complete, there are tangibles that people can judge and enjoy, maybe find a connection with. Clay is constantly transforming from heat, chemical reactions and manipulation, so in a way, it’s more than an object. It is a necessary altar in the epoch of my life and serves as a storyboard for the lives of those around the audience and me who experience the work. This is spiritual.

When I work, I sing and pray, give thanks and offer praise and remember loved ones and realize new ways of transforming myself. These acts are not visible in the final objects but inform each pull, cut and coil making each piece of art sacred.