“I light each candle as if I have a death wish and read between the lines of existence with an Eagle’s feather.”
— Daniel T. Gaitor-Lomack
Domesticity Forgotten: The Art of Assemblage, calls into existence an inversion of a spiritual iconology; an imaginarium and intellectual property baring fruits and poetic delicacies for the free mind to nest and confide in. It breathes life into the risk of experience, simplicity and prosperity. Such subtle nature narrates a river abundantly prolific in exaltation. Happiness is hidden within its temperatures. Process dances a tight rope reflected in the forgotten water below, from the everyday street wires, hanging above our own heads. Bootleg cable televises the fire grieving around us. Calling all area codes; has the music gotten too loud to hear our visions from across the room? Out the window we wonder into a city slicker than oil money. On the floors we sleep like sheep skin. Inside the memory holds the ghosts of our rawest moments that earned their wings in the physical and material appeal. Fight or flight? No, I do both and make one of the purest attempts at enduring a life most would call impossible. Yes, a natural life. This is a life you won’t find in magazines.
The exhibition’s constellation is charged and activated by what I have coined “conceptual performance assemblages,” which encompasses the hypnotic labor of my legacy. These are directions from the one who went left, East to West now around the world transcending onward through East. A universal reversal vs. the odds.
Throughout the exhibition each of them spiral and align in an orchestration enlightened by: metaphors, grand narratives, genealogies, double and triple entendres, a unique reversed orientational use of objects and symbolic gestures of cohesion. Many variations run above the sensory with their feet barely touching the ground. Present day codes of cultural wisdoms crack right beneath the eyelids. The communication of each work have become a ceremonial act of witnessing, birthing and empowering evidence of a divine presence. Stand behind it.
Edith (The Art of Assemblage), 2020 is the queen work of this solo exhibition. Hailing from an ongoing guild of work called Guardians of The Afro Fantasy, it’s a double headed totem of protection sanctified in vanity, riches and blessings that quakes and subconsciously clashes with one of Jan Vermeer’s most highest regarded artworks The Art of Painting, 1666-1668. Although the illusion was unintentional in the beginning, it has been made clear with time and is now here to stay. Cradled by the warmth of serendipity, Edith seeks no acceptance or inclusion. It didn’t come to leave a mark, it leaves a blood stain on the table cloth instead. Fate cleanses within the rinse. The DNA remains.
This proves the true scholarship of art making will always sail wherever it chooses, whether to or from, there are no boundaries, institutional control or physical clock. Only shimmers of rhythmic waves and the whale that lives to tell about it.