Ologies - Astronomy

The next book in the Ologies series is Astronomy. For this book I sewed circles together to create an accordion, and stitched constellations into them. The structure allows the reader to view one constellation at a time, or all at once.

The law of stars

a study of observations

physical & chemical properties

things we cannot feel, but see

predictions about the sky

a charting of movement, of celestial bodies

sunspots & craters

massive collections of plasma

mapping planets paths

a history about the past

Ologies- Geology

This past semester I did an Independant Study in Bookmaking. My first project was a set of four books inspired by fields of science. The series is titled Ologies, after ology, which is the study of a given thing. I chose fields of science that relate to the basic elements that make up nature.

The first book is Geology. I chose to make this structure a tunnel book to play up the cross-section diagram of the Earth that is used in Geology textbooks.

the materials that make

a mountain range

or an ocean floor

deposit laid to rest

erosion & eruption

a landmass interrupted

continental drift—a migration below us

the time line from valleys to trees to ice

stalactites & stalagmites

caves carried to the core

soil in our blood

a flood that exposes roots

displaces years of layers

fossils: bones from the past

museums found in stone

how ash is another word for

what the earth produces

Caketrain Issue 7 Preorder

Quick update - Issue 7 of Caketrain (featuring a submission from yours truly) is now available for pre-order. Visit their website to purchase the issue. Do it so you can see my name in print! (and read the poem as well).

In progress

A few photos of my first book project of senior year. Stay tuned for more when they are finished.

A Letting

little disasters
we discover that a

ribcage fits
into the space made

for other organs—
spaces left

in the beginning of
the morning

here: my hand
a measure of

equal parts
dry & liquid

compared to those
holes of grey

coming in through
the trees

the bite marks
outlining your knee

keep breathing
into this season

a phantom kiss
a ghost an illusion

all those hairs
left on the pillow

become molted feathers
now flightless

breathe again
the glow from morning

the body loses
half a liter of water

each day
by breathing

tell me the part
about birds again

a Luna moth lives
for seven days

if I put my head
like this

you will look
at me sideways

the thought of
an arm:

a measurement of
the air between us

an ache becomes
an insect’s lifespan

growing & dying before
we change the calendar



(First poem of the school year. Not sure if it will be thesis material, but time will tell.)

The Studio Museum in Harlem

This summer I interned in the Public Relations and Publications department of the Studio Museum in Harlem. The museum is located on 125th Street, a block away from the famous Apollo Theater. The museum was founded in 1968 with a mission to exhibit artwork from artists of color, and artwork that reflects African-American culture.
The museum is well-known for its Artist-in-Residence program that has produced artists such as Kehinde Wiley, Pratt facility and alumni Mickalene Thomas, and Titus Kaphar. The museum also runs a series titled Harlem Postcards, in which four artists are invited each season to photograph an element that reminds them of Harlem. This photograph is then produced as a postcard that visitors to the museum can take home with them.

I am deeply interested in the relationship between art and writing, and this internship helped to stimulate that interest. While at the museum I was exposed to many different artists, including Glenn Ligon, who work with text in a visual manner. The internship also helped me to realize what I want to do after graduation: Museum Public Relations. It was rewarding to write press releases and copy that would interest readers and get them to visit the museum.

Untitled ("I am an invisible man") - Glenn Ligon

Hopefully this post will get you to visit the museum! There are some great shows up that end in late October. For more information visit the museum's website: Studio Museum in Harlem. PS- I believe admission is suggested, and the museum is free every Sunday!

Update: Kalup Linzy, who had a show at SMH this past spring, will be speaking at Pratt on November 3rd. Linzy is a video and performance artist. Read about his SMH show, If it Don't Fit, and watch some of his videos.

Birds Make a Better Escape

I.

I know better
than the birds do
about when it’s time
to come home

backs to benches bronzed
bones broken &
filtered into bottles

where did we leave off—
open ended questions
in open mouths

collarbone creeks
ribs thrown in rivers
legs making lakes
building bridges

waiting weeks
waiting weak
a different kind of
worry

(if I could paint this different I would)


II.

A true Indian summer
a departure of boats

there is want &
there is this:
the lies I tell myself

I keep asking
can I miss you

(this is not a map)

I’d like to
typeset your lungs &
print on your rib bones

each letter pressed
in spaces of skin
spelling it out

is a postcard better?
Dear you:
respond now


III.

I’m all about bones &
filling them with sand

making mouths move
for cities, for coastlines
for names sleeping on tongues

where do the trees
get their weight
not from the leaves they let loose

a promised promise I
like to repeat
on the quicksand of my tongue

be honest,
say:
I didn’t read
your postcards


IV.

A bridge keeping
the distance—
a way to get
over the water

bodies like land
fingertips & coastlines

how do we cross
from my bones
to yours

postcards marked
return home



V.

Promises past the shore
behind the fields

a nest of
month old sheets—
the wrinkles remembering you

distance:
that thing we hate,
that thing which
stands in the way

but can be settled
can be put to bed
taken to our islands

let loose


VI.

A fine layer of
clear cold over
these lungs

these birds caught
in our mid air

windows wide watching
beds, bodies
the top of the museum
streets away

puzzled roofs &
waves away

fall is a year away,
hands held
land-locked


VII.

A prayer fingertips away
speaking for us elsewhere
counting down the days

wait for
lines in the snow
the sound of cold
collecting in the streets

(get better)

thin branches breaking
under the weight of
dead letters

maybe the snow
will hide this
a scar in the lawn


VIII.

I know better
birds reflected
shadows between us

cold hands
cold waves waiting
oars too weak to
sail us home

our beds buried

maps made but
lost along the way

(I still have mine)

Not August

Graceless:
the name I give you
my breath on the window
the place where the sun
loses hold, falls
taking our shadows,
the wrong parts colored over
how to stop the voices
in the walls
how to step light
& remember worms,
remember things growing new
(a white underbelly
a branch
a baby) remember
last year & how
hands don’t wear age
but still fumble,
fawns & damp grass
not for firm footing