Call Me When You Get Home
The screen door swings open
the front door follows
and I step in,
I walk in searching, eyes darting left and right around each room, waiting to land on a familiar face. The air is warm like usual, everyone is “always cold.” I faintly hear a TV, probably playing The Price is Right or The Bold and the Beautiful. I realize the air is warm because the gas stove is on; there is a teapot heating up, a fried egg in the cast iron and a piece of toast in the oven. I move farther into the house and hear, “Oh! You should of guessed more! That car ain’t that cheap!” Someone is home from dialysis and already yelling at The Price is Right contestants.
Suddenly I feel a light smack on my arm and a voice say, “Why didn’t you say something, girl! Scared me half to death.” I chuckle and reply, “I have a key and I’m just stopping by to say hello.” Like clockwork I’m asked: “You hungry? Want me to make you something? Got everything you need? Need
anything for the road?”
Naturally I reply that I’m ok.
Heading out the door, I hear, “it was good seeing you! Make sure you call me when you get home!”
I shut the door as I think, “always.”
Call Me When You Get Home (2022) is a group of photographic works drawing from my relationships with the women in my family. It explores the place-making practices that occur within a Black matriarchal household, a generational exploration of world building and the celebration of the self constructed identity. The project:
seizes fleeting moments
brings forward deeply ingrained memories
challenges photographic tradition with an experiential eye.
Instead of crisp, white printed edges, this work revels in the deep, fluid, black photographic space, and the
expressive potential of alternative printing processes.
Those same black borders hold the most precious moments, the overflow of grief and contain a richness
What is the influence of a gallery showcasing Black women and Black experience?
The invisible becoming visible and deeply felt. Power. Space.
Start of a new cycle