Algae Tears for Jon Jon was installed in a small room in an old church. There was live algae, a large photograph and a velvet bench to sit upon and breathe while thinking of Jon Jon.
In 2020 my brother Jon Jon was shot and killed by persons unknown. Jon Jon was murdered in September 2020 in Stockton, CA. His death ripped me apart. I felt very alone. It was also deep pandemic. I struggled hard to find outlet for my sorrow and rage. I tried to find support groups for family members of murder victims. The ones I could find were centered around seeking vengeance through the criminal ‘justice’ system and I was an abolitionist grieving a brother who had suffered police violence. During this period I took a lot of solo walks. I also started growing algae. It gently bubbled as it created oxygen for me to breathe. It sometimes helped calm me. I didn’t think of it as art. I’m not sure what I thought of it as other than a small strange source of comfort during an excruciating time. A year or so after Jon Jon’s death, I made an image under the tree where I would go and cry for him. The image was made on a scanner that I converted into a high res camera. It shows the movement of the sky and trees above and algae mixing with my tears on sensor. I couldn’t imagine a right place to ever install it until Marian Casey approached me about an apexart project she was working on called Death Rites. It would be held in an old church and would be about artists dealing with death and loss in radical and experimental ways.
This is work is very hard to talk about.
I am grateful it had this space to breathe.
The video depicts queer artists and activists frolicking with wigs and sometimes struggling to stay upright in the tide on Riis Beach, a queer and BIPOC beach in NYC. It is projected through a tank containing saltwater, causing the light to refract and rainbow and the image to split into three color channels. The sound is made from gritty recordings captured of waves underneath the sand and a ship’s distress signal-meant to forewarn of something unknown that is to come.
The sculpture is made from wig hair from the video shoot left in the tide to attract detritus. It picked up bits of shell, fish bones and a bracelet.
Tidewrack refers to the evolving space on the shoreline where the mixture of seaweed and synthetic materials are deposited by a receding tideline. This creative tangle may survive—churned and changed—or be decimated and swept out to sea. The tidewrack is temporary, collaborative and evolving. I make this work while contemplating what it’s like to create and hold space together in celebration while simultaneously holding anxiety for the next displacement.
Tidewerack March 2024 in Death Rites curated by Marian Casey, an apexart NYC project in San Antonio, Texas (iphone walk through)
Tidewrack at MASS MoCA residency, 2020
Tidewrack at MASS MoCA residency, 2020
TIdewrack at MASS MoCA residency, 2020
Tidewrack, overhead projections of sand & algae at MASS MoCA residency, 2020
Tidewrack at SomoS Berlin, 2020 in Futureless curated by Oliver Dougherty
Tidewrack at SomoS Berlin, 2020 in Futureless curated by Oliver Dougherty
I grow 4 different types of live microalgae. I build bioreactors to sustain them, using repurposed vessels such as vintage high heel decanters and perfume bottles. These bioreactors support live microalgae that absorb carbon and produce oxygen for us to breathe, while cleaning the air.
I also make bioplastics from microalgae and seaweed. I dye them with phycocyanin extracted from green algae and with shimmery eyeshadows. I photograph them and incorporate them into installation.
Algae Panes, 2021
artist-made algae bioplastic, 2021
artist-made algae bioplastic, 2021
High Heel Algae Bioreactor, Studio 9D Chelsea, 2022
Algae Bioreactor Installation at MASS MoCA alumni residency, 2022
Perfume Bottle Bioreactors installed at Flux Factory on Governors Island, 2023
Perfume Bottle Algae Bioreactor and Algae Bioplastic on Cinderblock
Algae Experiments, 2021
In this work I attached ropes and buoys to wigs and sex toys and placed them in the sea on an oysterfarm to attract seaweed and sea creatures. I photographed the changes. I explored the kinship I feel with macroalgaes and bivalves and drew correlations between the labor they provide by mitigating nitrogen to the labor so many in my queer community put towards working for social change.
The photographs are archival pigment prints on cotton rag in editions of 3.
16 x 24 inches
16 x 24 inches
16 x 24 inches
16 x 24 inches
24 x 24 inches
Site-specific installation made while in residence on Governors Island in New York City that was part of the Castaway’s exhibit in an abandoned house on Colonel’s Row. This was the Alumni Show for School of Visual Arts curated by Mark Ramos.
Pictured: synthetic hair rope and bucket, overhead projector containing seawater and false eyelashes and anti-anxiety meds on the half shell.
Also shown are prints from “Eyelash Grass ,“ “Sea Bottom Fornucata.” and “Body Exaltations and the End of Land.”
The portrait of Dust Tea Shoulders was taken on the Island, it is about scarcity in terms of both queerness and water access. I also used the bucket with hair rope to gather water from over the sea wall for my installation.
I started working with false eyelashes, synthetic hair and seawater to work through my grief following the Pulse Nightclub Shooting and the Ghost Ship Fire, a fire that took the lives of 36 people in an artist space in the Bay Area community I came of age in. Inspired by that which brought comfort—queer femme signifiers and seagrass —eyelashes and hair are submerged in a tank suspended by touch. They migrate, form new connections and grow algae. The tank is mounted on fire resistant cinder blocks.
I’ve installed the tank in exhibitions and photographed the changes. Eyelash Grass was installed as part of "A Dark Rock Surged Upon" curated by Faheem Haider at Garner Arts Center in New York.
Also pictured: "Panic Room: A Safe Space for Reflection on the Value of Black Lives" by Tiffany Smith.
The detail photographs were taken after 6 months of algae growth. The water receded leaving behind sculptural forms. They are 16x24” archival pigment prints on cotton rag in editions of 3.
Selected works from Body Exaltations and the End of Land. In this series I make portraits in places vulnerable to environmental and economic forces, exploring what it's like to hold space for celebration while simultaneously holding the anxiety of displacement. Inspired by my history of creating places of gathering, I make connections to the loss of space my queer community faces to the loss of land we all face. I also contend with outdoor queer spaces that do not feel welcoming to women and trans people.
Photographs are archival pigment prints on cotton rag, 16 x 24 inches in editions of 3
