Color is my first language. I grew up in a home alive with it — an orange sofa, blue and orange walls, a yellow kitchen — spaces that taught me early that color carries emotion, memory, and possibility. Even as a child, color shaped who I was; black was "for older people," so my world was built from vibrancy and contrast.
One of my earliest creative joys was opening a new box of Crayola crayons at the start of each school year — the 64 or 96 pack with the built-in sharpener. I loved the colors, but I loved the names just as much. The rhythm of the words, the way they looked on the label, the feeling of entering a tiny imaginative world through color and language. That delight in naming, in language, in books, in stepping into new worlds through words, runs alongside my visual practice.
In my work, color and pattern become a way of remembering and honoring where I come from. I'm drawn to the exhilaration of placing one hue beside another, watching new relationships spark through rhythm, repetition, and layered surfaces. My practice is grounded in the material language of the African Diaspora — assembling fragments, building textures, and improvising with the hand.
Each piece is a continuation of those early encounters with color and words: a space where memory, imagination, and material come together to express something alive. I hope viewers find their own stories reflected in these layers - moments of joy, heritage, and the everyday beauty of color speaking its truth.