May 2024
I DONT WANT TO FORGET A WOMAN IVE NEVER MET AND I STILL COULD NOT TELL YOU WHY.
IMOGENE HERRING, MY GRANDMOTHER, CASTS A BLUE HAZE OVER THE FAMILY; SHE WAS A PHOTOGRAPHER, SECRET HOLDER, UNWED MOTHER, CLOSET ALCOHOLIC, MENSA MEMBER, ADOPTEE AND RUNAWAY.
THIS INSTALLATION IS A FORCED CONFRONTATION OF THE PAST ADDRESSING MEMORY AND SECRET HOLDING; A SYNONYMOUS COMBINATION IN THE SOUTHERN STATES. IN DECEMBER 2023 I INTERVIEWED MY MOTHER WHILE VISITING CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. I WANTED TO DOCUMENT MY FAMILY'S ORAL HISTORY TO — MASS EXODUS IMOGENES SHAME THAT SHE CARRIED WITH HER UNTIL DEATH AND PASSED ONTO WHO SHE IS SURVIVED BY. STORYTELLING IS THE PRODUCT OF LIVING; I HAVE IMPERFECTLY TIPTOED THE LINE BETWEEN CURIOSITY AND HARM TO FIND ANSWERS. SELFISHLY, TO UNDERSTAND THE WAY I HAVE STRUCTURED MY OWN LIFE ON BEHALF OF FAMILY WOUNDS AND ALTRUISTICALLY TO LIE VERSIONS OF THE PAST TO REST.
I OPEN THE AUDIENCE TO EXPERIENCE AUDITORY AND VISUAL STORYTELLING IN A CONTEXT OF UNCERTAINTY. IT IS CONTINGENT ON THE TIMING ONE ENGAGES WITH THE MATERIAL AND THE LEVEL OF EXPOSURE DESIRED [ AUDIO/VISUAL OR SINGULAR COMPONENT]. WITHIN THE EXHIBITION THERE ARE PERSONAL PHOTOGRAPHS, FAMILY PHOTOGRAPHS DOCTORED BY HAND, WRITINGS ON MY RESEARCH AND OBJECTS REPRESENTATIVE OF MY GRANDMOTHER IMOGENE.
IMOGENE HERRING ( 23 DECEMBER 19XX- 4 JULY 1994)
RESTING IN THE CHARLESTON HARBOR
poems
nov 16. 2023
IMOGENE. i am method acting to know you
ive fallen to winter smoking cigarettes on the fire escape.
your genes made it to new york, california, atlanta
who knew id be telling your story
i always hoped to avoid anything connected to my past
i just got sucked into the reality, the gravity
there wasnt really a clear path until i accepted my role as the bending of roles.
did they tell you that everything looked good
looked good on paper?
was the paper as thin as this onion skin , see thru
like the words on paper that paper were not the reason
it was the feeling of it always being so hollow
how could i know
do i project all my fears beliefs on the story i only know through others.
we look through the same lens.
you shoot the truth through the barrel of a gun i think i was made to clean up the shells left by your absence.
its not that i savor my health but i protect me and mines from a demise in the light of yours. i always wanted a grandmother but i was left to see you through green and blued film and cameras.
it has finally become my turn to walk your story page from page
photo to photo bilding to building so much to hide.
i hide myself and live separate lives just as you did.
what constitutes a secret...who are the members
mine myself and i or the family in nuclear
have i opened pandoras box or is it true that you
spoke to me in blue visions. . all i can do is wander wonder
how it feels to die with you secrets for them to reveal themselves
like a bride on her wedding day.
you secrets consummate.
nonchalant drive
she lived on nonchalant drive
unbothered by the world
non-descript
non-fiction non-existent
tucked in nowhere simi valley
they dug her past into the ground like a grave
so she turned into her address
genie in the bottle
bottled up inside two secrets
the third in the closet
bottle-drinker...
aug 5. 23
i am writing from a familiar tongue and teeth
that yellow paper in dads trunk
back in georgia where i was born... two orange cats
beg their paws into the screen door
i have longed to feel the georgia summer
my heart a 4 story chapel with a wrap around porch.
nature has been given a price but folk art lives.
i asked for the path and continue recieving it
how still is life and loud the mind
i will one day die here just as i was born
in the mud creek grass of an assbackwards lowbrow town.
aug 11. 23
hawk flew in front of car
deer on the left
no guard rail
freedom in full fruit
attention
the road is quiet, isolate
theres two large lovers dining shirtless on an appalachian porch
two teens in a pick up truck grinding their tires into the road next to a gas station and dollar general.
sourcing my wooden frames and clown company
west vagina, virginia, marys land
in between shit stops or rest stops
goodwill with a wooden facade
im an ambassador to christ tonight in marlington, virginia
it is so silent except the rumbles coming from ted next door, my brother in christ tonight
devout snoring neighbor.
i bet hes talking to god in that room.
the sound of cars driving through the gravel is rainlike.
may 24. 24
i dont remember the last day i rested well.
joining the family business
one of secrets
like a fever that keeps returning
pulled the trigger of the gun
release
would i do it anyways?
share the forbidden
shredding the conditional image of a self-curated album.