A Modern Day Griot in Venice

In bios of me, you'll often hear me described as a multidisciplinary artist and writer. In Yoruba culture, however, my title would be much more concise. I'd be called a Griot. There was no limit to the media that a Griot could master to bring their ancestors' stories alive for audiences. More than hereditary, a Griot's stories are written in her blood. Their DNA is an intricate sigil containing the tracks of their ancestors. It is believed that Griots are born to relay messages to the world in a way that only their unique incarnation can. No matter what the Griot's environment, they'll have a strong compulsion to tell the stories written in their blood.

This theory was proven when I unwittingly created an Egungun masquerade costume for a trip to Venice in July of 2020. I was selected to show a canvas at the Venice International Art Fair and wanted to make an impression when I arrived. I was living in Abruzzo, Italy, at the time. A friend of mine owned a bridal shop nearby, and she was planning to retire soon, so she had a lot of stock to get rid of. She offered me a plain white gown which she encouraged me to paint.

When applying for exhibitions in Europe, I noticed in the applications that there were questions about the artists you've been inspired by, but fashion designers were conspicuously omitted. Most of my influences at the time were fashion designers, as I was a rabid fan of the Dressed podcast. Fashion has and always will have an incredible impact on culture in the United States. As the prevalence of American culture grows across the world, however, the contributions of Black Americans have been erased.

Starting with my great-grandfather, Allen Small, I created stencil portraits of Black fashion designers who influenced American culture. Allen Small owned a tailor shop in Harlem, and my love of fashion was passed down from him. The First stencil I tested was that of Madam Elizabeth Keckly, dressmaker to First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln. One of the original stylists to the stars, her name should be legend, but it has mostly been lost to time.

Traditionally Eeliko Egungun masquerade costumes are made with strips of colorful fabric, just like the stripes I painted on my dress. These strips of fabric are supposed to be taken from your mother's old clothes. These costumes are a kaleidoscope of color that proudly announced your ancestry. I painted this dress before I was a Yoruba Orisa devotee and had even heard the term. But, as a modern-day Griot, these stories were written in my blood, and I knew they had to be told.

My Interview at the Venice International Art Fair: