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Maryland Institute College of Art (2015-2017) BFA, General Fine Arts; Minor, Critical Theory
UCSB College of Creative Studies (2013-2014) BA Candidate, Visual Arts; Minor, Black Studies
◼︎ Selected Exhibitions
Solo / Two-Person
#38: Gas, Honey (with Raza Kazmi). Museum Gallery. Brooklyn, NY.
It Might Be Warm But It’s Not Clean (with Trisha Cheeney) High-Tide. Philadelphia, PA.
Still Life. Drawer NYC. New York, NY.
Boredom Breeds Mischief. Mery Gates. Brooklyn, NY.
Bangalore Flat. Home Sweet Home. Bangalore, India.
SUPERHOST. Like a Little Disaster / Pane Projects. Polignano a mare, Italy.
U:L:O. Interstate Projects. Brooklyn, NY.
Pig Latin in Quicksand. Clima Gallery. Milan, Italy.
Pure Raw. Resort Baltimore. Baltimore, MD.
Birds of Prey Don’t Sing. 891 N Main. Providence, RI.
#69 The Clarkory Show. Museum Gallery. Brooklyn, NY.
The Length of our Shadow. Platform Gallery. Baltimore, MD.
Mousse Magazine (2019)
MICA Talent Grant
MICA Liberal Arts Award
Summa Cum Laude
VCU SSP Scholarship
Vermont Studio Center Artist Grant
Virginia Commonwealth University Summer Studio Program for Sculpture + Extended Media (2017)
Vermont Studio Center (2018)
It’s pretty easy to see that if you just enter a room and declare, I’m in charge here!, you’re going to upset like, most of the people in the room, probably. But you’re not going to upset everyone—some will be relieved by the simplicity of this new order, especially if you dress the part. The euphoria of this legibility really cannot be overstated—it’ll be like a glass house into which everyone can see, just like Il Duce said. In fact, they may acknowledge your leadership and then try to curry
Don’t lose your breath. Althusserian interpellation is famously exemplified by the reformulation that occurs the instant that a trooper shouts, “hey, you there!” During that moment, your subjecthood comes into focus. However, today, securitization now extends far beyond the vocal authority of the state—it is constitutive of the social, not to mention language itself. Basically, I don’t even need to tell you to watch yourself, but like, watch yourself (and everything that that entails).
I wake up in the morning, shit, shower, and shave, I cut my hair, I take a look in the mirror, and I put on my Bluetooth headphones. Suddenly, on a wreath of the colors argent and tenne a dexter hand couped at the wrist, clenched, palm affronte, grasping three forked lightning flashes, all proper, flashes argent. It reads like a laundry list of WebMD symptoms, the worst of which is chronic passive voice. It turns out it’s an overuse injury; I’ll let y’all figure out what part but all I’ll say is I’m getting friggin’ Desert Storm flashbacks.
I started stuffing salami down the sleeve of my crewneck to buff out the chippy chippy on my shoulder. I vandalized a community center while trying to go viral with a marriage proposal, but nobody was trying to hear it, including her, so like, go figure.