Anyway, the force from somewhere in Space which commands you to write in the first place, gives you no choice. You take up the pen when you are told, and write what is commanded. There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you.
—Zora Neale Hurston
I have spoken about stories before, creating them, the subject keeps creeping up. Zora is right, you do what you are “told”. And, it is agony, for me, right now to bear these anthologies, for various reasons: but not always. I remember when I first had my son, people, usually women, would ask if having a baby had changed my work. I didn’t think so, but after three years of being a mother, wife, and artist, I know that how I view womanhood has changed. It is enlightening and a bit scary to see how my body determines so much of my life. I really see that. It makes me more resolved to make art, because I am more than just my body. Creating art helps me to remember my power.
The Stamp Book Series embraces an amalgamation of stuff. Among some camps, it seems an unpopular notion for Afrocentric artists to claim their African origins in the context of their work. They suggest using heritage as content diminishes and limits the work and is less innovative than “universal” pieces. First, this seems to apply only to people of color; and you will find second-rate work in all genres of visual art. Second, as an Afrocentric artist I cannot let other folks put boundaries on my heritage and say it is only about this and that or only these people will understand it. My central theme is about afro-femininity, constructed within the figure, but, I don’t see my work put into a box. My cultural influences are too broad (no pun intended). Although the female beings I portray may be African, they are nonetheless diverse in appearance, attitude, and character, they, cannot be put in a box either. I feel called to create them, because, issues of sex and race dominate our collective cultures. There is work to be done between women and men. Sterotypes to obliterate. Still, voices go unheard. My visual anthologies are about those voices.
Just as important as the narrative and content in my work is the material I use to construct a piece. One is not more essential than the other because together they interplay with layers of meaning. This is why I ‘m charmed by the stamp books, using their pages in my work evokes nostaglia and historical artifact. I inhale the dusty past in those beautifully tinted stamps, which come from all over the United States, quietly gripping the histories of American life. But, they are also about unadulterated capitalism and a consumer culture where anything can be bought for a price. Kitsch and commodities. As a child growing up in Southern California, I remember gluing these trading stamps into books, then later looking at the retailer’s catalog and sometimes my mother redeeming them for goods. I think about how we define worth. Once you could buy a household full of furniture with the trading stamps I use and now they are worthless as currency. I find this funny and weird, because they have value for me and are quite worthy to behold. Afterall, they inspire my visual fables of Afrocentric women and culture.
