Mystery|Memory Photo Journal

I have 12 undeveloped rolls of film which chronicles the last 6 years of my life.  As a birthday present/creative project to myself, I will develop one role of film every month for the next 12 months, and post one new unedited picture a week along with a title and summary of the image.  How will I feel viewing these mystery images for the second time around?  How have these images, like ancestors, informed my memory, and sense of self?

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Week 5: Thrifty

I came to love Thrift stores during my last year of high school.  Before that I was one of those teens who wanted all the new and shiny things; those en vogue, quick to fade fads-of-the-moment things; those fleeting items that I would either outgrow, or never debut.  Around the age of 16, 17 when my identity began to really emerge and shine, I began to think more consciously about the world.  I was more concerned with our earth, and less wasteful.  Over the years I have found so many outstanding finds at thrift stores around the world, from Ohio, South Carolina, and Japan!  Thrift stores bring me joy, excitement, and comfort in knowing that I am makinga thoughtful choice about where to spend my money. This is a favorite Thrift store of mine in my hometown, the Neighborhood Thrift.

Week 4: Perspective

Home is on my mind, heavy as ever.  Open land in my heart, wide open spiraling.  Dance dance dance does my body like smoke unfurled; feet in prayer do hop, hip sockets rock it.  I release towards remembering.

 

 

 

 

Week 3: We Are The Land That We Save

We Are The Land That We Save

Name and land, interconnected, provide a part of identity.  In so many ways my name is a conundrum that I have been trying to navigate all of my days.  According to Free Dictionary .com, the meaning of my name is simple, Christian: Manifesting the qualities or spirit of Jesus; Christ-like; Showing a loving concern for others; humane.  Though I do not consider myself Christian, I do find great value in the spirit and message of Jesus Christ.  A common message, at once simple and deep, concerning the care of all of creation.  It also cannot got unnamed that the corrupting of Christianity has been used as a direct method and perpetuation of oppression in every form, and it becomes hard to remember the root of the meaning in the message and the spirit, just as we have forgotten the ways to live in harmony with the earth.  I cannot count the times I have been the receiver of disregard and disrespect because of my name, especially those who claim to be revolutionary, radical, or progressive in their politics.  After centuries of abuse of my people, and lies that claim we don’t exist… now is the time to stand, because despite what others think, I know I was named with purpose.  I will stand for fulfilling a life of service in the name of the spirit and the message on behalf of all my relations.  Anything short of this does not serve the process of individual, or communal liberation, and hurts the work of going home in service of our Mother Earth.

One of my favorite artists, Pura Fe (Tuscarora), says, ” You Are The Land That You Save”, in her song, Rise Up Tuscarora Nation.  The Tuscarora were close neighbors of my maternal people, the Cusabo from the southeast.  This song is an empowering example for me, laced with historical reality, and melodious cultural kinship that those of us who have suffered the effects of genocide, in all its forms, can understand.  This song, and this edition of Mystery|Memory is a poetic declaration to anyone whom has ever questioned the name, the people, or the history of my people.  I encourage all my relations, with our myriad names, to rise up and fight for this home, because we are the land that we save.

Week 2: The Eternal House (A)

Whenever I visit the country side at my family’s homestead for our annual pow wow, I make picture after picture of the house they used to live in, which has been through many a storm, but has not lost its foundation.  Yes, the walls, the roof, and all is caving in; there are leftover objects from generations past, and materials are covered in brownish/ grayish dust.  The house, eternal, holds so much profound meaning for me.  It whispers to me in a warm, late August hum, “We are still here”.    And each time I return, I am able to lean closer into the house, into history to reveal our culture.  Our culture, as BlackNDN’s is alive, and it is important.  For my family, with the lasting foundation of this cherished house, it rests in the deep, at the root, in my heart and soul.

The Eternal House (A)

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Week 1: “No mountain high enough”

My Papa, Pop, Papi, Dad, Father.  He is wearing the blue Ogatamura hat I sent him from Japan.  We are Acme Photo/ Video Store.  I think were were doing a check up on the camera I took the photo with to make sure everything was in tact.  My Papa still uses the old point & shoot machine, and clearly, it works well.

My Father.  A man who used to travel with his father, who was a sharecropper and worked on the railroad. He would play in the large sand piles and imagine he was climbing a mountain.  My father reminds me of a bird with a massive strong wing span.  He was in the Air Force– a paratrooper–  he willing jumped out of airplanes.  He willing took flight and always landed; has more guts and guile than anyone I will ever know.  One of my favorite things to do in this world is climb mountains.  I’ve climbed one in every place I’ve been.  When I reach the summit, I image what my Papa might have felt as a youth, playing, dreaming, and being present in his imagination sitting on those sand dunes that could have caved at any moment.  His bravery, his freedom to soar.  Junices Totty, my Father.  Niayweh for passing on the courage to jump, to have faith, and to land: more connected and rooted to this earth.  Aho.