Concepts of “here” and “there” within the Caribbean context and viewed through the lens of binary oppositional thinking, point to a distorted perception that stems from how the region’s residents are typically trained to consider each space (i.e. anywhere else is better than “here”).

 

Cusp is an ongoing series that presents some of my own experiences with what could be described as “mini migrations,” or being grounded in a particular location but engaging in a regular process of uprooting and resettling in the hopes of finding and sustaining new opportunities for creative growth. In these works, I use my own dependence on those temporary movements to examine the experiences of those of us who live and work at the edge of both “here” and “there,” by delving into themes of escapism, transformation, vulnerability and anxiety that are often closely linked to this cyclical process.

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I’m interested in how we navigate the two spaces; what we take with us versus what gets left behind; and the artificial systems designed to control our movement. I use my dependence on those “mini migrations” to examine the experiences of those of us who, while rooted in a very particular space, find both relief and discomfort at the cusp of those two spaces.

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The result is a series of work that features an interplay between my own body and the Beach Morning Glory plant, a recurring motif employed for its striking characteristics that, in my opinion, mirror those found in persons who exist in the space between "here" and "there." The plant stabilizes the coastline and prevents erosion, with roots running meters deep. The thick, waxy leaves are able to withstand extreme temperatures, unlike their relative variety that grows further inland. In addition to enduring the constant battering of salt water, the beach morning glory plant has also developed a chemical compound in its sap that deters grazing. But perhaps most poetic of all is the flower that blooms one day and dies the next. Beautiful and short-lived.

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