Installation

Miscegenation

The Flowering of Miss Cegenation:

See No Evil Hear No Evil Speak No Evil

Once upon a time, long, long, ago Today. Just out of nowhere three hauntingly beautiful flowers took bloom on the crooked branches of a might oak tree.

Truly, it was the birthing of an untold story that coveted a whole race of people. Shrouded in mysterious secrets no one bothered to take notice. The people strolling by pretended not to See it.

Not to Hear the heralding cry emerging from the root of the tree. Not a word was Spoken about the shredded bandages laced around gaping wounds that never healed.

This fine Louisiana Oak, larger than life, born in the heart of the bayou native of the land of sweet magnolias, surrounded by lush fertile swamps, whose spirit, steeped in the culture of a rich Diaspora lay choking; gasping for air.

The deconstructive ivy growing beside it year after year twines its long arms around the tree only to suck the earth dry about its roots; living on its life, over running its branches until at last the live – strong, Mama oak withers and dies out.

The infectious lust of the creeper will stop at nothing. It’ insidious vine, able to live in no other way but by drawing the life sap of its host, cutting off its light and air.

The endangered tree can barely lift itself from the ground; hung heavy with guilt and shame. How can something so beautiful bloom from this barren tree? And why are they blooming now, out of season?

What can be the reason no one wrote about this phenomena before? This surely is living proof that ‘All sleeping dogs aren’t dead and the truth that – Timing is everything.

But who will make time to sort through the miscegenated roots, and search out the heritage of a lost people due to nation formation in the form of appropriate violence – the rape of the land under colonialism.

Where are you? I can’t see you. Why does no one come forward to behold these rare and wondrous flowerings? What…I can’t hear you. Why are you whispering? What are you saying?

Shhh! – Hush, Hush now my love, let blissful shadows lull you into forgotten yesterdays and by gone tomorrows.

Today you must sleep in my arms, embraced in the history of promises not kept, and lost memories. Be still my quiet soul; whisper softly of life’s belongings.

Let not my name moisten your lips; for in the end we will be one. Only when dusk falls upon us as we lay listening to the birds of paradise coming home to roost.