United States of Original Sin
Some paintings speak.
Others demand to be witnessed.
This piece is unlike most of my work. I often move by emotion, guided by intuition rather than intention. Meaning surfaces in layers, sometimes long after the paint has dried. But not this time.
This time, the story arrived with purpose.
This painting is the story of American slavery — a timeline woven from brutality, erasure, greed, and resistance.
The base layer, stark and pale, represents the foundation: a system built to benefit one race. Over it lies the rigid, oppressive form of the slave ships — dark, narrow structures evoking bodies stacked like cargo, families severed, humanity denied. Atop that, a fragmented layer of gold — wealth tainted by blood. A broken, gleaming view of a man’s worth, assigned by the whims of white ownership.
This gold is not glory. It is rot disguised as triumph.
The story stretches from the Middle Passage to modern protest — from bondage to BLM. It is not complete, and it is not mine to finish. But it is my duty to hold space for it in paint.
Each mark was placed with intention.
Each element was chosen to mean exactly what it means.
There are countless stories buried in this history. Most will never be known. But that doesn’t mean we can’t name the weight.
Some paintings speak.
Others demand to be witnessed.
This piece is unlike most of my work. I often move by emotion, guided by intuition rather than intention. Meaning surfaces in layers, sometimes long after the paint has dried. But not this time.
This time, the story arrived with purpose.
This painting is the story of American slavery — a timeline woven from brutality, erasure, greed, and resistance.
The base layer, stark and pale, represents the foundation: a system built to benefit one race. Over it lies the rigid, oppressive form of the slave ships — dark, narrow structures evoking bodies stacked like cargo, families severed, humanity denied. Atop that, a fragmented layer of gold — wealth tainted by blood. A broken, gleaming view of a man’s worth, assigned by the whims of white ownership.
This gold is not glory. It is rot disguised as triumph.
The story stretches from the Middle Passage to modern protest — from bondage to BLM. It is not complete, and it is not mine to finish. But it is my duty to hold space for it in paint.
Each mark was placed with intention.
Each element was chosen to mean exactly what it means.
There are countless stories buried in this history. Most will never be known. But that doesn’t mean we can’t name the weight.
Some paintings speak.
Others demand to be witnessed.
This piece is unlike most of my work. I often move by emotion, guided by intuition rather than intention. Meaning surfaces in layers, sometimes long after the paint has dried. But not this time.
This time, the story arrived with purpose.
This painting is the story of American slavery — a timeline woven from brutality, erasure, greed, and resistance.
The base layer, stark and pale, represents the foundation: a system built to benefit one race. Over it lies the rigid, oppressive form of the slave ships — dark, narrow structures evoking bodies stacked like cargo, families severed, humanity denied. Atop that, a fragmented layer of gold — wealth tainted by blood. A broken, gleaming view of a man’s worth, assigned by the whims of white ownership.
This gold is not glory. It is rot disguised as triumph.
The story stretches from the Middle Passage to modern protest — from bondage to BLM. It is not complete, and it is not mine to finish. But it is my duty to hold space for it in paint.
Each mark was placed with intention.
Each element was chosen to mean exactly what it means.
There are countless stories buried in this history. Most will never be known. But that doesn’t mean we can’t name the weight.