HOME
Current/Upcoming

A Story, An Image

In 2004, my eldest sister and I took to the road to travel from Camp Pendleton in California to Bay City, Texas for Christmas. At the time I was roommates with Matthew Philips and his father, in the home they rented in Bonsall, California. I experienced a brief moment of homelessness, one which he and his dad removed me from. I was grateful as he was one of the first friends I made in high school after moving from Texas to California.

Matt was a photographer in high school and was already really good at it. I recall how he had taken some of our classmates' senior photos. I was interested in photography, but nowhere near as involved as I am currently. I had only used point and shoot disposable cameras, but did not have any other experience.

When I moved in I would shadow him, not as an assistant, but as a friend that just wanted to be around. However, I would assist as much as I was interested. I would mostly hold onto a reflector in weird angles to bounce or add light to his subjects. I was also the subject in many of the photographs he would take.

Over time I grew interested in the possibility of becoming more adept at photography. In my previous residence in Costa Mesa, my roommate James McKnight was a photographer. As with Matt, I would become the subject of some of his photographic ideas and concepts. I liked being in front of the camera with them. I felt comfortable.

One day Matt offered me a Nikomat film camera and a 50mm lens. After a few pointers as to what shutter speed and iso were, I started aiming the camera at just about anything. I would take the camera everywhere. It felt great to be able to capture so much and for the images to be as I imagined them in my mind.

On the way to Texas and back to Camp Pendleton I shot about twenty-seven rolls of film. At the time, Matt worked at Calumet and would develop his own film. He offered to process my many rolls of film as well. I would wait patiently for the roll containing this image to be processed. I thought about it all the time, wondering whether it would come out as I shot it.

When the image was finally produced I was ecstatic. I could not believe I captured it. I was so excited about it. Matt recommended that I enter the photo into the Del Mar Fair photo exhibition. He would have it matted at the store and submit it for me. I did not have big ideas about winning. I had only been shooting for maybe three or four months.

I did not place, but I did receive eight out of a possible ten. I recalled meeting one of the judges that juried the show. She was an employee of the camera store. She asked about how I was able to create the blue hue in the top of the image. It was strange as I knew she had already asked Matt the same question prior. I told her and she feigned interest. I would later learn from Matt that my image was not selected because she wanted to make sure her friend’s work was included.

I did not attend the photo exhibition. I was satisfied with having an image reviewed and scored in a photo exhibition. I recall the pride I felt after collecting the image from the fair. I knew that I wanted to continue taking photographs, that I might have found an additional outlet of expression outside that of skateboarding, writing, and collage.

I thought I would keep the framed image, but I gave it to my then neighbor and newest friend Melissa Guiloff. I would spend a lot of time at her house after I was introduced. We would cook together, watch movies and listen to music. I remember she gave me a hard time for not knowing how to dance, or at least not moving my body when I danced. I have not yet been able to enjoy dancing in public as I always feel like a spectacle.

Aesthequity [A New Entity]

You can embed a lot within the name of a company, an organization or entity. A company can choose to broadcast their intentions within the confines of a few characters, or they could purposely hide themselves and their intent within their chosen name. It is imperative that community members and their representatives know our aim and intentions immediately, as many of whom have already had several unfortunate experiences with outside influences.

Aesthequity is the partnering of the two words: aesthetics and equity. Our singular goal: illuminate opportunities for communal growth and equity for disinvested communities through creative practices. The goal is not to become wealthy monetarily, but to produce immediate results wherever possible, while also creating ongoing self-financed initiatives that can and ultimately will be managed by members of partnering communities.

Aesthequity speaks to the need for creative communities to acknowledge more than the desire to create, but the understanding that by creating publicly, within and in collaboration with a community, real change can be attained.

Local, state and government agencies and organizations have long denied funding for projects that would provide greater visibility for underserved communities only to, years later, seek to employ entire departments to do the same work, not in collaboration with but as proposed experts on the needs of said communities. A pathway to a more equitable future for underserved and disenfranchised communities should not be dependent upon a juried selection; resources and engagement are what is needed most within these communities.

If no one is coming to save us or tell our stories in their proper context, then it is our responsibility to make sure there are those that can speak to it, in the future; not just to carry our memories, but to carry all of our communities into a future that is equitable for all. Although Aesthequity may be an entity that is required at present, it is my hope that the future will not require such an entity to exist.

[Briefly] A Monolith

Upon entering the upstairs backdoor you find a dimly lit entryway. The only light source highlights the three panel portrait and two doormats depicting Bjork. The main light is controlled by my neighbors and they keep it off to make it hard for me to be comfortable.

Once inside the space you are greeted by photographs, silkscreen prints, and a television showcasing the forty-five stories from the video series Stories Within City Limits. This room is an entry point within the life of Ronald L. Jones. This room is an acquaintance's description of the person.

Peering into the adjacent room many sculptures, a series of prints and a void fill the space. This room serves as an introduction to the thoughts, ideas and understanding made present for friends of Ronald. In this space you learn of the constructs that the artist navigates and the tools developed to traverse the world. Ideas encapsulated in tangible form. In this friendship space you are aware of an elephant in the room, a source of ideas presented, a black box hidden in a dark void.

The contents of the black box are made tangible and present within the next room. In this space you are asked to navigate a dark room filled with ulcers spewing highlights, or trauma made into positive energy. In this space, audio from another space is heard. The path leads to a hidden passage. This path leads to a crossroads where the future is made visible. You appear from the darkness, illuminated by the light of the future. To exist in the trauma, or to accept the lessons and move into the future is the question posed.

As you turn to leave the projected future, the audio is nearer. Crossing a new threshold, patrons are invited into the mind of the artist, behind his eyes. Pillows depicting hearts tell those that enter this space that they are in my heart. The pupils of the half-closed eyes replay ten years of documentation of the Houston community. These images are funneled into the mind’s eye where they are filtered through the conversations and experiences shared with those held close to the heart and converted into sculptures that carry the information into the future.

[The Bridge]

I called Mutulu. I did not want to be alive any longer. I had a fellowship, but it did not pay enough to live. I had a small apartment, which was a sublet. I made one thousand dollars every other month. My rent was three hundred-fifty dollars. I would not be able to find a stand alone home for the same price.

My attention was always drawn towards the water height measuring legend. I would pay attention, even if it were not hurricane season. I took note of the fenced overpass and the walkway to the top. The railcars would sit for hours, days. It was different during the day. It was much more somber at night.

This is where I thought I would go prior to calling Mutulu. I never let the idea of being through leave the recesses of my mind. Heavier then, than they are now: my hands. I could not reach for the phone, but it made it to my hand. I did not think I could find the words, but they came.

I did not want to be homeless again. I did not want to be roommates again. I did not want to lie about how I was doing, again. I cried.

I could see it, though I could not know how I learned to tie a noose. I could feel it, though the rope never embraced my throat. I was already gone, though I could still feel my heart beating.

I thought I would spend my eternity at the bridge. I was engaged and we only needed to find a ring to wed us.

I visited and revisited the location. I documented it. I recorded and made short films about it. I took naps atop the hill, just behind the fence.

Then, suddenly, we were no longer in throes. We no longer had anything to say to each other. We no longer recognized each other as our paths crossed.

I once thought I would spend an eternity walking these grounds.

[Away]

I left a lot of things in this space, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. I made my peace with the domicile that nearly had me without air to breath and less blood to bleed. I no longer have to share space with a scammer landlord, or the racist microaggressive tenants next door, or their accomplice just below them.

All at once a weight has been lifted, the anchor cut and set free: I float above it all. There was a time when a shelter was all that was required. Now, more than a roof and four walls, peace is desired.

I don't have a clear cut plan, but my path is golden. I can see it, and regardless of whether its present for others or not, I have yet to lose the plot.

As a child, all I wanted to be when I grew up was happy. As an adolescent, the same. As a teen, the same. As a young adult, the same. At present, the same.

What makes me happy? Taking care of those that I love and love me. Seeking out truth, shining light within the darkness, hearing and learning from those I cross paths with, envisioning, planning for and executing community oriented equitable initiatives.

Fifteen years ago, within a courthouse cell, I prayed for a second chance. When one was given, I decided I would kill that shit. In spite of all the negativity and darkness that I found while journeying, I managed to do everything I set out to do and completed several side missions along the way.

A community accepted, supported and sustained me for ten years. A community made space so that I could say, one day, on this day, today, that I am who I set out to be and I have done what I set out to do and more.

Not saying goodbye, just saying that I'll see you later.

A Crude Illustration [Intersectionality Made Present]

There is a saying that appears in science fiction movies: the quickest path between two locations is a straight line. I think about how life is presented as a linear experience. How we are taught to traverse this plane constantly acknowledging the finite nature of our individual and collective existences.

If we were to view our lives, these linear passages as more than a one-dimensional experience, we can see that from another angle, that straight line is actually a system of peaks and valleys. It may actually read more like the display upon a heartbeat monitor.

Yet, still, within this same construct, we must also acknowledge the presence of others along this path. The individuals that arrive when we reach the valley’s pit and those that are present while we peak. These individual’s lives are also attached to our paths.

However, it is not always presented so directly, the impact or the importance of others. In some instances, an underlying theme, experience or occurrence weaves itself into the lives of these individuals. In those moments, we are made aware of our interdependence and reliance upon others and are forced to acknowledge the intersectionalities of our existences.

In this space you are able to see the overlapping dimensionalities that bind us to one another. In this space you can identify how important each individual is to the system and the amount of agency we possess as a whole.

I learned this from making art.

[Friends]

My childhood best friend took the stand as a state’s witness in a trial for my life. At one point he referenced the short stories that I used to write in junior high. That they were violent, at times, because I was dealt violence and did not retaliate. I sculpted characters that pushed back.

At the lunch recess I spoke to a former classmate that was working in the court. I was reprimanded by the bailiff for being close to her. I responded that I was not dangerous. They did not know me. They only knew what I was charged with.

When we walked under the court, to the transport back to county jail, I saw this person pass by with their mother. I wore the suit that my mom and sister picked out for me. My hands were cuffed in front of me. I did not hold a grudge. I was still happy to see him. I raised my hands to say hi as they exited the garage.

When we returned from the recess, my lawyer cross-examined him. Almost line by line, he crossed out the entirety of his statement rendering his testimony useless for the prosecution.

The following day, another childhood friend was set to testify as a state’s witness. My lawyer entered the room where I would be briefed on the day’s agenda. He was not confident that this witness would fall in line with the previous day’s experience. This witness had entered a plea with the guarantee that he would testify against me.

The District Attorney, who never offered me a plea deal, this day made an offer. I could accept two ten year sentences, to run concurrently or I could return to the courtroom and potentially receive up to 109 years in prison.

It was my 23rd birthday.

A Thread [Above The Darkness]

In March I left Houston to attend a two-week residency in Seaview, Washington. I'd never been to Washington before. While aboard the plane I pondered upon what it was I sought from the experience. All I could think about was a need to be free of something: to be relieved of the seemingly nonstop traumas of the past year. I had not yet come out the other side of it.

When I arrived, I realized the drive from Portland was three, almost four hours. I drove on roads and through wooded areas that looked like they were sculpted for car commericals. It was beautiful. Yet, it all seemed very temporary, much like my stay in the area. I noticed, as I grew closer, that there were big trucks coursing up and down the same highways. They were exporting this paradise for economic reasons. Their experience, too, would begin to feel temporary. I knew I wanted to speak to that.

I had an obligation to present a public work while undertaking the residency and I felt I would use that opportunity to paint a picture of how delicate the future of that community would be, if they continued in that manner.

I worked through a lot during my residency. As is the case, I went a little mad trying to remove my ego from scenerios so that I might be able to better assess my role in either situation I sought to investigate.

As a result, I created five new sculptures addressing a system of structures present within multiple facets of our everyday lives. I thought the best way to keep information hidden while passing it through to the future, would be through creative abstractions.

I also thought about how Dawn needed support while she was in Houston, so many years ago. I thought about how she stepped in and recommended that I apply for this residency. In a lot of ways she provided me a centering opportunity.

I bought this and another lockbox with the intent of creating two works that would speak to hearts of gold draped in soot. I felt slighted, abused, misused and ignored after departing from a large exhibition just prior to the residency. I wanted to characterize or encase the emotional response in a symbolic way.

Instead, there’s a gold heart that sits above the soot.

[Reflections]

After my release from prison, I immediately went back into photography and skateboarding. Well, honestly, I was really afraid that people would be afraid of me, or not want to know me. It wasn't until I met @skateorelse at the skate shop that I understood that folks still looked up to me. Folks had never stopped talking about me as a skateboarder. It was how Marcus knew who I was when he entered the skate shop. Ronnie Jones, the tall Black skater that's always skating in town. There were more Black skaters than when I left. It used to just be me.

I wanted to follow through with photos I imagined while I was away. I leaned heavily on the skaters in town for night time photoshoots. We were well aware that there was nothing to do, so we had late night adventures. Driving around looking for cool lowlight situations where I could test out some ideas or just to see if the camera could see in the dark.

We all start someplace. A lot of times the people around you aren't aware how much you actually need them. Then there are times when you aren't even aware of that required bond. I needed Marcus to walk in that skate shop. I needed Rusty, Josh, and Toby all those nights we went out shooting. Looking back on those times, reviewing images of those excursions, I understand that we all needed each other. They, and I, might have felt it, but we never said nor made mention of it.

Life is a lot like freeze tag. You meet folks and they touch you in a way that asks you to be still for them, if only for a moment. If you're willing or able, you stay there in that space with them until you're tapped to move for someone else. You move through life touching and being touched, freezing and being frozen.

The Church [And The Black Community]

My next documentary project will be examining the church in the Black community.

I grew up in a predominantly, if not entirely Black community. We had clinics, convenience stores, clothing stores, night clubs and speakeasys (my great-grandfather owned and operated one), laundromats, and so much more. Today, we only have the remnants of those structures, if they have not been destroyed or left as empty lots.

These changes, this devastation, did not happen in the dark. We were all here for it.

I started to think about what I longed for as a adolescent, what I really saw, but could not put words to at the time. It was willful disengagement, a sense of disassociation. It's all that I could feel; that someone felt it was not their part to play, that their role was to watch and not take part. But watching is taking part, an inactive role that allows the wave to crash.

While this was happening the churches within the community grew, new ones were built and new building funds started to maintain those new spaces, along with the old. The housing projects changed management, but nothing improved, no upward mobility was established. Community members, lifelong congregation members, were forced to hold a fish fry, bake sale, or another alternative as way to fund a proper memorial service.

I started to ask myself, why is the church here, aside from shepherding the congregation into the house Jesus built? If the nine churches aren't starting community gardens that become a community farmer's market; if they aren't buying the housing projects to provide upward mobility for the residents trapped in a cycle of poverty; if the church is not acting as a job fair; if it isn't paying the bills for the elders of the community; if it is not acting as the resource that it is, what is it here for?

The church, in many Black communities, is the heart of the community. Yet, in so many communities, the heart never circulates the blood it's fed. Humans are given a single heart at birth, but many Black communities have upwards of seven hearts. How is it that so many communities still seem to need a transfusion?

All these hearts pumping in so much of the community's lifeblood.

Cyclical [A Spiral]

I was beginning to feel myself spiralling. I did not want to die, I did not have those ideations. I just could not find safety, comfort, protection. I always felt like my artwork told the story of me, where I stand, where I come from and have been through, what I have witnessed, or wished to acknowledge. I tried to speak in parables, metaphors, similes and through abstractions. I was direct, focused and descriptive in the discussion and presentation of the narrative. Yet, people would ask me to elaborate upon those topics, they would ask why they had not known prior, they would continue to inquire. I started to feel like I was being gaslit by everyone.

I sat thinking about all the posts I had made about how my landlady would sneak into my apartment while I was gone. Usually following the compulsive transitioning of space which would follow any shift in artistic medium or traumatic life experience. I would rearrange my apartment to help me deal with things I could not control. I would minimize my imprint within the space so that more artistic possibilities could be presented or explored more readily. She and her brother had both walked in while Nina was painting her mural, I believe. And it’s possible that Latricio may have encountered one or the other as well. I know that my ex-girlfriend, when visiting from Sweden, encountered her. I would set traps to be sure, and I was sure. No one else could get in the locked gate or had a key into my apartment.

I thought about the stint of time where I paid more than both the individuals I shared the building with; something I learned only once my rent went up $135 when I needed the stove replaced. A stove which leaked so bad I had to cut the gas off if I was not cooking. It was the first thing you would smell upon entering my apartment at the time. It was not the first time my rent was hiked. It went up once before, just after I needed the refrigerator replaced. I had to catch the leaking water with pitchers before she believed me. When I asked for them to be my ally in an action to draw attention to the discrepancy, there were none to be found. I knew if anything else were to break, I would need to figure it out.

I am still committed to completing all exhibitions and opportunities that are scheduled, but can no longer reside in this space.

Please come to see this show. It has been years in the making. Everything I've done in the past ten years, all the conversations, interactions and engagements has been encapsulated in a single exhibition.

This exhibition exists as a projection mechanism for those wishing to be transported through the future, today. This show is all about leveling your preconcieved perceptions to give way to perspective.

We all deserve to feel protected. We all deserve to have a future. We must all act as shepherds for those unprotected individuals who have, currently are, or will need protection as they traverse this world.

I created this work so that you could know how to identify and protect those around you that will not know how to ask, but will always require assistance.

Fixed Up [Replaced]

I hate driving in Houston. It's not how I want to experience this city. I might love the people here, but once they get into their cars, I suddenly hate everyone around me. I hate having to drive for me and everyone else on the road. Although biking appears less safe, I feel more in control of my movement and have greater freedom to navigate the city.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this bike after what happened, even if it could be fixed. It just carries an ominous glow for me right now. Those feelings, I know, will fade with time.

I took my bike to @fixedupbikeshop just hoping that they could help me out with some of the repairs and replacement parts. It could be said that my preexisting relationship with the shop played a part, but honestly, I know they're just good people.

They reached out to folks in the community for parts that would fit my older bike. They put it back together for me and I couldn't be happier. Even though I may not feel extremely comfortable riding it at the moment, I am truly grateful for all the time and effort they put into making sure I was able to mount it again.

For now, however, I have another bike, which I purchased early in the week. It's a little shorter in length, but it is also much lighter than my original bike. So, for now, I have two bikes: one I bought to protect my current state of mind and another fully restored, and in a lot of ways, in a better condition than before.

So, this is an appreciation post for the work they put into making sure I was able to get back out there on the bike I've ridden almost daily for seven years. My bike is a mental health tool and not having it for any length of time could be potentially dangerous for me.

Thank y'all, I can never fully contextualize or express how much it means to have my bike back or how grateful I am that y'all went out of your way for me, especially given the circumstances.

Jumping [A Memory]

[In] Therapy

Sometimes I cry randomly thinking how I find comfort in the idea of committing suicide. I rush into all kinds of emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually taxing endeavors because I want the time I have here to be filled with projecting others into a future I never felt certain exists for myself. At times, it feels like a warm blanket.

Last year, starting from the very beginning of the year I struggled with being here. I wanted to die for a lot of reasons. I still battle with some of those issues. Many have followed me from childhood; things I could not shake and did not have the tools to ascertain what I was experiencing, or why.

First, it was the residency, then came the coverage and the folks that sought to attach themselves to me for their own benefits. If not for COVID-19 forcing a break and separation, I would have had a nervous breakdown before the summer.

Then the summer came and I had a nervous breakdown.

Over the past seven years I have only reached out for help when I literally was about to go outside and kill myself. I'd call friends and tell them what I was going through, or not. Sometimes I would just cry with them on the phone. There were also times when I could not pick up the phone because I felt that it would make it real. Then there were others when no one I called answered.

In May 2020, I finally told myself that I did not want to die. Or maybe, I didn't want to die for those reasons. It was at that time that I reached out to the professionals at Montrose Center.

It took three months for them to meet the criteria I set for anyone who would be my therapist. They had to be BIPOC, preferably a woman. After dealing with HR at the museum, I swore I would never seek mental health advice from someone that cannot relate to my experiences. I also only have sisters and feel most comfortable speaking and sharing with women. In all my life, I have had only a handful of positive male role models.

After twelve months with my current therapist, I can say that I am much better at understanding myself and certain actions. I am sure of who I am, what I am capable of and who I want in my life. I have found comfort in these acknowledgements.

How It Started Vs. How It's Going

I had just moved from my apartment in Greenspoint and had nowhere to go. I essentially put all my property in storage and decided that I would sleep in my car until I figured something else out. However, I did not have to spend a single day in my car at that time. Eric Todd , whom I had only recently met, invited me to stay with him in Houston’s Second Ward.

Having no income, outside that of the grants and loans for UH, I was desperate for opportunities to not be reliant upon those funds. After missing out on several opportunities I lost my patience with college and dropped out to do the same work, without the additional debt. That independence only lasted a month or so. I quickly ran out of money and had to leave Eric’s.

During this time I saw a friend, Jessie was hosting an art exhibition in their home and I wanted to be involved, if only to have someplace to be for like 8 hours a day. The event was not posted when I saw it. It was only a blank page with a title. I called my friend Nina and told her about the project and we met there that same night. For the next two months we would collaborate with artists that I had, at the time, never met or heard of.

It was also the first time I would attempt to complete a mural. I had the idea to paint myself in a corner; a cramped and tight space. I wanted to show how I felt. I felt trapped and placed in a corner. I felt at risk, but did not wish to vocalize it. I just wanted to create something that would hold that space for me.

While working on it, I hit a wall. I did not know how to proceed. I asked Jah Jah if he could offer any advice and he simply told me to “just say yes.” I listened and ultimately accomplished my goal of creating the work. However, while we were away Baltazar had come by and marked over a lot of other people’s artwork, mine included. I took offense, but decided I would be more proactive and work with the mess he left. I decided I would create a spiral to cover the markings.

It reminds me of what I was willing to do to make it where I needed to be. I remember the learning experiences and the growth that was made possible just by having access to a space.

An Adventure

En Route [Carlsbad To Newport Beach]

Between [San Diego & Carlsbad]

Between [The Here & There]

Six Hours In [With Kitty]

The Night [In Question]

Out

Since the purchase of a used point and shoot camera, I have been rediscovering my love of street photography and shooting in general.

I loved the cameras I've used prior, but hated the thought that should anyone try it, I might have to die for the equipment. Not because I'm tough, but because it's an extension of myself. A part of me that I have activated to provide self care, as well as financial stability. So, I kind of have to fight you.

The past few days I have just been saying, "You know what, I'm gonna just enjoy my life for the rest of my life."

Here are some photos from the past few days.

G5 Collective “Emergence”

I biked to see G5 Collective’s Emergence, which was curated by Erin Carty and Sarah Beth Wilson of Art League Houston. The exhibition featured works by Isela Aguirre, Saran Alderson, Layla Bispo, Cat Davila-Martinez, Mark Francis, Liz Gates, Julia Kidd, Michelle Matthews, Reema and Sydney Parks, Ashita Sawhney, Hollie Stephan, Lee Walters, Douglas Welsh and Isabelle Zimmerman. I was invited to the exhibition by a very good friend, who was also in the exhibition Layla Bispo.

Layla is a friend I made by accident. I cannot remember it, but I am told that I rescued her from some creeps at what was once called The House of Creeps, or maybe it was the Dr’s Office. Both spaces served as hosts for DIY events, pop-ups and after hours spots for folks that were a part of the undercurrent of creativity existent within Houston.

They, Layla, would tell me about all the things they were learning and all the people in the collective. I learned of the field trips and collaborative projects they would be working on together. It felt like something familiar and welcoming. I was eventually invited to tag along with the G5 Collective to Galveston Artist Residency and Galveston Arts Center. I ate lunch with them and listened in on bits and pieces of conversations and read everyone’s expressions and body language. Everyone seemed to want to be present. It was what also spurred me to want to see the works they produced in their respective practices.

Community Artists’ Collective

Sarah Fisher, who recently purchased an artwork I submitted for DiverseWorks’ Luck of The Draw fundraising event, invited me to meet her colleagues Shang-Yi and Romeo Clay Robinson, and herself for lunch and a conversation. I never like that it happens, but I tend to strong arm conversations to disseminate my ideas, thoughts and projections. In a lot of ways, I am seeking out like minded individuals that I would like to help arrive in the future.

Our conversations led to a series of studio visits where I was informed about the thoughts and ideas, intentions and information embedded within the works of the respective artists. I was intrigued to learn of how they first met and how they have found a way to maintain a sense of community. Our earlier conversation created an opportunity for Sarah to provide an introduction to someone I’ve known and been a vicarious admirer of, Michelle Barnes.

Michelle Barnes is the Co-Founder and Executive Director of Community Artists’ Collective. As their website states,"the Collective serves as the catalyst which provides the inspirational and educational sources for artists and citizens so that they can use their talents and creative abilities to solve economic, cultural and social challenges in the natural and built environments in which we live, work and serve."

I was informed that some small people would be visiting the Collective that afternoon and I was invited by Ms. Barnes to visit with them. I am almost always open, willing, ready and able to spend time with, or make myself available for folks who would benefit from my presence.

The young persons pictured were from @shapecommunitycenter located in 3rd Ward on Live Oak. I was informed that they go om field trips like the one pictured every Friday.

(Not pictured Sarah Fisher, Shang-Yi, Romeo Clay Robinson)

A [Re]Union

I was mentally, emotionally and spiritually unwell. I didn't know what to do with myself. I reached out in all directions for a space to investigate what I was experiencing. I heard not a reply.

I remembered there was a place that could hold the weight. Would it still be there? It was not. But, another did exist.

For two weeks, I worked through my issues to find myself once again. Myself and friends cleaned this park. Shoveling dirt to clear pathways, picked up and bagged discarded clothing, branches leaves and waste.

For nearly three months, and almost daily, I returned to maintain the sculpture and clean the area. Today, it is almost always clean, without my help.

[black]

Plastic Futures

Lantern Lane

We were outside. It was 1st grade. I was attending Lantern Lane, a school in the suburb Missouri City. I don’t remember her name. But I do remember what she did to me. And I remember her reason why. Because she told my mother to her face. In front of me.

We were having a bubble gum bubble blowing competition. We were in the front of the school. It was a sunny day.

“Ronald, did you throw away your wrapper?” The teacher asked.

“No, ma’am.” I replied.

“Come throw it away.” She added.

I grew tense. I could feel that something was about to happen to me. That she was going to hurt me. It seemed the trash was further away than it was originally.

The school front facing wall was lined with brick pillars. Dull, blunt objects.

She stood in my path. Her presence signalling that I should go around her. I could see the bin on the other side of her. I could feel her foot stop my leg from raising. I lost my balance. Falling headlong into the corner of the pillar adjacent.

“AHHHHHHH!!” I screamed.

My head is bleeding. I’m cut. I’m crying.

I’m in the nurse’s office. No one believes the teacher tripped me. They put an adhesive strip on my head. I have a full head of hair. The strip floats atop my hair.

My mom comes. I tell her what happened. She wants answers. No one has any. They’ve made sure to send the teacher home before she arrived.

The teacher kept her job. No one believed a white teacher would purposely abuse a Black child in front of the whole class. In broad daylight. In the front of the school. Visible from the street.

--------

The last experience and the next are linked by location, educator and outcomes.

The memory starts in my living room. My mom is asking me to recite the ABCs. There is something wrong. I can’t understand why she is so upset with me.

Now we’re at the school. My mom is having a heated discussion with the teacher.

“Why doesn’t my son know his ABCs?!” My mom asked aggressively.

“I don’t feel like I have to teach your son.” The words came without hesitation.

“Why don’t you feel like you don’t have to do your job with my child?!” My mom asked clearly agitated.

“I don’t feel like I have to teach your son, because he’s Black.” She stated matter of factly.

We were supposed to go on a vacation. We had been planning this for some time. We couldn’t go. I had to learn.

“And the school...They’re gonna pay for your tutor.” My mom’s words were firm and resolute.

And they did.

Hearts [Like Diamonds]:
The Monozygotic Twins of 5th Ward

(Part of a series of public works funded by Houston Museum of African American Culture.)
---

Hearts [Like Diamonds] highlights industry’s insatiable need for expansion and capitalism’s dependency upon Black, Latinx, and other communities of color as preservers of unapplied capital. Expansion regards these communities as expendable, an attitude that can only be addressed through the transference of knowledge and the willful acceptance of that information. It symbolizes the unbreakable bonds forged within communities while its residents are shepherded into a system of intentionally, seemingly insurmountable hardships and hazards.

If they refuse to write about us, to present us as our whole, true selves; if they will not highlight or showcase our excellence, or entertain our assertions for agency, we must deduce that we are solely responsible for curating an inclusive space and assuming agency where it was once denied so that we may project our stories and the stories of our communities into the future.

Hearts [Like Diamonds] envisions, if not reimagines the community of 5th Ward, Houston, Texas as a mine where diamonds are formed under variants of discriminatory pressure. Pressures which are applied to all residing within the redlined district, indiscriminately. Diamonds, birthed, are raw glass like orbs of hardened carbon. However, once cut, the nearly colorless stones reflect and refract colors and light waves with razorlike precision, transforming white light into brilliant displays of rainbow-banded colors. Its preciousness, and near indestructible properties make it one of the most coveted naturally occurring objects in the world. The spaces these stones are found are not always the most beautiful, yet what lies hidden beneath the surfaces of these landscapes beacons prospectors.

Full description and press release coming soon...

Hearts [Like Diamonds] Pt. 1

Brief time lapse of an installation currently underway in Houston's 5th Ward. The installation is part of a series of public works funded by Houston Museum of African American Culture to be completed Summer 2021.

More information to come.

Shortcuts

Over the last seven years I have learned to view the application process as a glass ceiling and deterrent for individuals without professional artist and exhibition statements, documentation or previous exhibition experience. I, like many artists, became infuriated with the process and it's of lack clarity with regard to denials.

So, me being myself, I wanted to investigate that system. It felt like a gatekeeper for an audience that might want to meet me. I had been hoping to introduce myself, eventually. However, I wanted to speak directly to their audiences, circumnavigating the process entirely. I wanted to be sure I was wanted in the space and if what I was creating would meet someone new that would help to fund the continuation of that work.

I submitted two works to two silent auctions, two years ago. I needed to give myself an ultimatum on how much I was investing in investigating different mediums. I told myself, "If either one does not sell, I will discontinue that practice for the time being."

The events happened on Thursday and then on Friday. On Thursday, the print sold. The next day, someone stood in front of my piece to make sure they won it. Both instances were heartwarming and reaffirming.

This year, I expanded upon the concepts and ideas incorporated in the previous works. Both artworks sold.

This is not a knock at either institute as they both have provided opportunities for my success in the past. It's simply to highlight the need for more spaces for art to be made visible.

Sometimes the things that get rejected, if accepted, could change someone's life. Which is why I am so committed to the idea of intersectionality of community, because so many people just need a light to be shone on them for only a moment.

Leave Your Shoes At The Door

I was asked to help coordinate an arts event benefiting a company that provides shoes to developing nations.

When I was released from prison I started taking photos, skateboarding and making art constantly. With no place to show art, I decided to ask my friend Jeff if I could organize an impromptu pop-up exhibition. It was this that made me visible to the organizer.

It was a lot of work and all of my money. My friend Eric designed the flyer using my photos. My sister Rhonda worked the door, I mc'd and ran the raffle for art work. We had art from the high school, greater community and some from friends in California. My favorite band, Harold Borup played, as did Earhart and kthanksbye. My friend Fabian did a live painting which we raffled along with some other artworks. We raised a bit of money, some of which was used to send the shoes off.

The remainder was burning a hole in my mind so I kept it with me in the case that some worthy organization might spring forth randomly. And it did. The women's crisis center had a pop-up booth at the junior college I was attending. I ran to get them money.

It was pretty meaningful for me because there was a time when I lived in the women's crisis center for a couple weeks.

Ronald L. Jones
[black] in pursuit of a monolith

Sayers Gallery | Summer/Fall 2021

A Note From The Artist

I had it all figured out. I was ready. I’d quit my job and began to work as a contractor for other organizations. I was able to have the conversations I wanted to have, without fear of rebuke. I could begin to share myself freely. I was creating more artistic space and opportunities for myself. I was beginning to see the agency I could take hold and move forward with it in my possession.

I applied, was nominated and won a residency. I’d been prepared for them to decline my application during the submission process. I would use the declination letter to explain how my past attempts to beat me at every pass to shortstop my progress. In the application they said the background check would occur during the semi-finalist selection. It didn’t.

Having it all planned out. The idea that I would be in a position where no one would be able to decline me an opportunity. I had returned from prison dead set on owning everything I would need to create, live, and love myself through creative practices evolving from self-preservation and self-care needs. I just wanted to be able to say who I was, be me and not be restricted to a corner.

I wanted to say what my experiences were and I needed a jump off point. They gave it to me, but I had not thought I would be unprepared for it. Having the wind knocked out of me multiple times a day reflecting upon how bleak a future with no friends would be. Being transported to my release date and thinking, “Fuck, who is going to love me now?” And, “How am I going to make friends now?” Then, “What career could I have now?”

[black] in pursuit of a monolith, is an exhibition consisting of new sculptural works and installations by Houston-based artist Ronald L. Jones. This exhibition serves as a reflection upon that moment in time as well as an examination of what it means to be Black in America with the multitude of variants preventing the conflation of experience. [black] projects an answer into the ether with hopes that it reaches the future, those who will take up the baton to cross the finish line.

Half Your Worth [All Your Time], 2021

I have been working towards finding a binding media for some time now. Seeking out a way to create some kind of a unified form or aesthetic. A way to meld their respective vocabularies.

I created this piece with Marcus Wilson, my good friend in mind. I thought about him making me a clock in woodshop, while he was still in high school. My friend Matt Casas has the other half of the torn bill from the print. I carry my half in my wallet. Both are father's who work, or have had to take on jobs that limited available time with their families.

I received the acrylic sheets from my last place of employment, back when they would let me know when used supplies were available. I would always claim things. Subconsciously, I pr obably was looking for ways to make them pay me for how they treated me, by selling artwork created from materials sourced from the organization. In my artwork they are always representative of an oppressive structure, obstruction or glass ceiling.

The gold floss is representative of a path, or life. It is part of a vernacular developed as a result of the depression that set on after the revocation of a residency opportunity. It was originally a stand-in for lightning, or a light element. It is borrowed from the phrasing, "capturing lightning in a bottle."

In this work, the path is completely restricted to the confines of the task of working, knowing your full worth will never be recognized by those who employ you.

Back in my downloading days, I used to search random words and download whatever came up. One of those things was Kings of Convenience. It was a band and I'd describe them as upbeat and happy, but also still kinda depressing. They have a song titled Gold For The Price Of Silver. I feel like it fits the context.
This work is available for purchase through Art League of Houston at their 2021 MARTY Healing Art Exhibition & Small Gems Silent Auction. It is a virtual auction which ends at 8 PM, Saturday, June 26, 2021!

Projectors

^{[Or I have become infatuated with the idea of being our being a host of projections from the past onto the present learning to contribute to the messages echoing and projecting our aspirations, hopes, and prayers into the future.]}

These were not the first tools I used when my interest in photography was sparked initially. The first camera I used was a Polaroid as a child. I did not have an earnest interest, one with passion and purpose or intent. We simply owned one at some point in my childhood. I would have access to several point-and-shoot, single-use Kodak cameras during my adolescence.

The first Kodak cameras I ever personally owned were used to capture the new friends I made while away at a summer work/school program for at-risk youth. I was transitioning from the ninth to the tenth grade and had already developed a reputation as a classroom disrupter.

During my science class, I was taken by a photograph of a classmate. It was a black and white photograph of a younger version of her. It was the most beautiful image I’d ever seen and I couldn’t even express why I felt such intense emotion from a portrait. It was like a scene from a different lifetime captured by someone wishing to lock a special moment as it appeared. The image seemed to be projecting the past into the present to influence the future.

Projections, like predictions, aim to discern one or more potential likelihoods. However, projections unlike predictions seem to require a more active hand to maintain a prospective path.

I think nonstop. I constantly replay conversations and investigate their implications in a multitude of complex situations and scenarios. I overthink. I overthink out of self-preservation. A taught, learned, and adapted skill set built out of insecurities amplified by outside influences.

My thoughts consume me in ways that cause me to, at times become less reliable, flakey, short-tempered, depressed, and provoke suicidal ideations. There are so many conversations waiting for a starter, resting at the far corners and recesses of my mind.

I create constantly, mentally, and physically constructed improbable possibilities and structures. These works are conversations I create tangible forms to add physical weight and presence to abstract concepts and ideas.

I create in hopes that another can find the narrative that will direct them and their path into the future.

I once thought that the artist had an overarching, if not lofty responsibility: the production of imperative, documents of the varying life experiences and paths. Many times a day I find myself feeling as if I had a grasp upon an available pathway to a united future. In those moments I am overwhelmed with joy, love, and steadfast determination.

Lets Talk & Create

March 3 - March 9, 2021 | 7PM-10PM

Leaving space open for a conversation and creations.

Wave (Goodbye):
A Conversation with Ronald L. Jones

March 10, 2021 | 7PM - 8:30PM

Houston-based creative Ronald L. Jones will give a brief presentation about his exhibition Wave (Goodbye) followed by a Q&A session.

About the exhibition:

Wave (Goodbye) is a site-specific sculptural installation by Houston-based artist Ronald L. Jones. The installation is representative of a large tidal wave and its wake, sweeping through GAC’s main gallery space and engulfing visitors. Jones’ work adds physical context to the magnitude of repercussions regarding inaction and indifference in matters of human rights and equality, ecology, and industry. The wake of Wave asks visitors to acknowledge a shared responsibility to the preservation and maintenance of a living planet and its inhabitants.

UPDATE:
SILENT AUCTION POP-UP

I knew we could do it!!! The goal I set was $1,600 and we surpassed it by $105!! SO AMAZING!

I will be making up the difference for the lawnmower which will be around $300. The remaining funds will cover taxes and a 3-year warranty. This way if anything happens within that time period they will not have to come out of their pockets to have it addressed.

I will update you all with additional details, images and commentary once the purchase has been make and the lawnmower delivered.

Again, I just want to thank you all for being such great persons and such an outstanding, amazing and supportive community!

Wave (Goodbye)

Galveston Arts Center | Main Gallery
January 30 - April 18, 2021

Wave (Goodbye) is a site-specific sculptural installation by Houston-based artist Ronald L. Jones. The installation is representative of a large tidal wave and its wake, sweeping through GAC’s main gallery space and engulfing visitors. Jones’ work adds physical context to the magnitude of repercussions regarding inaction and indifference in matters of human rights and equality, ecology, and industry. The wake of Wave, composed of translucent reflective surfaces, asks visitors to acknowledge a shared responsibility to the preservation and maintenance of a living planet and its inhabitants.

^{Image Courtesy: Mich Stevenson}

SILENT AUCTION POP-UP

College Memorial Park Cemetery
3525 West Dallas Houston
February 13, 2021 | 8am-4pm

The past few months I have felt more compelled to educate my nieces and nephews on the importance of family and community and our mutual responsibility to both. On a tour of some of the different communities persons like ourselves live within and are currently under siege by gentrification.

One of the locations we visited was Emancipation Park, one of the oldest parks in the state which is located within the 3rd Ward community. Emancipation Park exists because the folks within that community knew that future persons would need a space to enjoy themselves during reconstruction and later Jim Crow. I wanted to show how resilient was a community has had to be over the past 400 years. I wanted to show how a few motivated persons came together to create spaces that spoke to the future of our community. Jack Yates, a formerly enslaved person, founding member of a great many things in the Black community.

I was introduced to College Park Cemetery early this month. I, along with others, were invited to the cemetery to aid in the lawn services that occur the second Saturday of every month by the Houston-based multidisciplinary artist Mich Stevenson.

When I arrived at to perform the tasks asked of us, I was informed of the cemeteries history as one of three of the first and oldest cemeteries where Black people could be buried. I was informed that the cemetery was actually founded by two white men. One of which died and his estate sold their half, which is currently being converted into a high rise apartment building.

My job, along with one of the property managers and another volunteer, was to poke through the soil to find if there were gravesites that were not marked. The cemetery is in the preparing to create a space to house individuals that have been cremated. Our job was to make sure that they were not leaving folks vulnerable to accidental exhumation.

After about three hours of work I needed to take my leave.

While in engaged in conversation with the main proprietor, a Black man, Mr. Anthony, has had the property in his charge since 2015, I found that the cemetery needed a new lawnmower. He told me that he planned to reach out to Bun B or Beyoncé to finance the purchase. Right then I looked up how much they costed. It was $1600. I immediately started to calculate how much art I would have to make to finance the purchase.

My intent is to create a space for folks to purchase artworks who's generated revenue will provide the necessary financial support to purchase a lawnmower to replace the current model.

30+ artworks! No reserves! No starting bids! Available artworks list coming soon!

Partnership Tower Art Exhibitions

HFC cultural programs manager, Christine West curated this year’s exhibition which features art works by contemporary, local African-American artists.

Color Story

February 6 - September 6, 2021

This two-person show features emerging Houston-based artists:

Lenecia A. Rouse and Jonathan Paul Jackson, who both explore personal narratives through abstract painting and multimedia
collage on paper and canvas.

Exhibition Location:

Partnership Tower
Level 2
Garage Escalator Lobby
701 Avenida de las Americas, 77010

Ivory Towers

February 6 - September 6, 2021

Ronald Llewellyn Jones constructs a site-specific sculptural installation that redefines the space visitors and employees experience as they enter and exit the building. Jones will work throughout the month of February in the Partnership Tower lobby space. Onlookers are welcome to observe him creating on site, and safely watch the progress of the installation from the exterior windows that line the entry to the building.

Note: Partnership Tower, currently is closed to the public for health and safety due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Jones will be on site February 5 - 28, 2021, 8 am-6 pm. (The artist’s schedule may vary from day to day.)

Exhibition Location:

Partnership Tower
Level 1
Building Entrance Lobby
701 Avenida de las Americas, 77010

Sou'wester Historic Lodge & Vintage Trailer Resort Sponsored Residency

March 14, 2021 - March 30, 2021

I was recently awarded a two week sponsored residency at that Washington (state) based program! During my time there I will be staying in one of the many awesome trailers they have on their campus. At the end of my residency I will present art work within the trailer gallery.

About the program

Up to two individuals per month are provided sponsorship of an artist or wellness residency at the Sou’wester. Applications accepted from BIPOC, LGBTQ, and/or artists/people working on social activism, equality, or identify as underrepresented. APPLY

This residency is available year-round (excluding holidays and peak periods) and generally run from Sunday at 4:00p to Friday at 11:00a. Sponsored Residencies are free.

Art Sale

December 7-14, 2021
20%-50% off

It's that time of year again. The time where I feel there is too much art surrounding me in my home studio.

I'm discounting several works that I would like to see in a new home. All prices are discounted by and will be valid thru December 14, 2021.

To inquire about item availability click this link.

BME [Shayna]

My dedicated photo camera broke and I couldn't take headshots like I intended. But I also wanted to play with my video camera near where I live. There are lots of cool low light scenarios that I'd wanted to place someone in for a while. It's not being the easiest thing to do, ask someone to just walk around and talk with you...while you record or photograph them. That's my comfort zone, where all my best work comes from.

I like getting to know people and also being able to share those experiences with others. The fear that we will all be forgotten eventually drives me to document every conversation, gathering, meeting or occurrence so that we can always look back and recall, remember and be reminded of our past selves and our community. My sole aim with everything I do is to project myself and my community that much further into the future because history books have always managed to leave out some of the best parts of the story...us.

BME [Shayna] is an archive of the time and space occupied, the conversations, topics and their tones.

Nevertheless, She Persists

Nevertheless, She Persists, which premiered over Zoom earlier this month, is a production by Sue Schroeder, Artistic Director of Core Dance, in collaboration with Core Dance Artists and Berlin-based composer, Christian Meyer. The new performance advocates for the dignity, intelligence, and potential of women everywhere. Six artworks from the Crystal Bridges Museum of Art’s collection prompted the approach, asking viewers to look again at the depictions of women from the nineteenth through late twentieth centuries—representations of women both prior to and following the passage of the 19th Amendment.

Again, Together

Online screening + panel (Intro by Ronald L. Jones)
January 21, 2021 | 6pm-7pm

A 13-minute documentary produced by Ronald Llewellyn Jones, in collaboration with One Breath Partnership, sets its focus on the cumulative effects of racist legislation that led to the contamination of communities of color, but more specifically those of the Black and Latino communities. The documentary looks back at what has caused a cascade of disparities within the Black and Latino communities starting with racist policies which gave open access to polluters within these respective and shared communities. Utilizing interviews the documentary offers first-hand testimony and experiences that cover a gamut of issues that stem from one root cause, racism.

Wave (Goodbye)

January 16-April 18, 2021
Galveston Arts Center

Wave (Goodbye) is a site-specific sculptural installation by Houston-based artist Ronald L. Jones. The installation is representative of a large tidal wave and its wake, sweeping through GAC’s main gallery space and engulfing visitors. Jones’ work adds physical context to the magnitude of repercussions regarding inaction and indifference in matters of human rights and equality, ecology, and industry. The wake of Wave, composed of translucent reflective surfaces, asks visitors to acknowledge a shared responsibility to the preservation and maintenance of a living planet and its inhabitants.

Zoom Co-Create Space

11pm-3am CST | 11/30-12/6

Are you one to disregard bedtimes? Same! I stay up pretty late, too. Let's stay up and cowork, create and conversate with each other.

Every night this week, starting at/around 11p I'll be hosting a Zoom call to make space for night owls that want to get work done while the world feigns sleep and scrolls underneath their blankets.

During that time I'll be cooking up bad jokes (I do this even without an audience or live streaming service), constructing new small works, editing personal video projects, printmaking, and digital artworks.

Visit my website, which is linked in my bio to access the necessary link to join the call.

Show or don't, I'll be creating either way!

The Brid[g]e

The Brid[g]e, a visual essay, carries the narrative of an individual reaching their lowest point, yet unwilling to give up. Moments of mania, pause and blurred vision scored by melodic tones. The score aids the narrative hinting at the incessantly nagging thought often muted and the desire to rewind life.The Brid[g]e a composite of 'bride' and 'bridge'. A phrase calling for a bond between person and place; in this instance, a bridge. The idea that life has an end that you can claim, that we are bound to ourselves and a divorce is always an option. That we can attach a location to the act and keep it in mind in case of hard times.

2020 VIRTUAL GALA: CAN’T STOP, WON’T STOP

honoring

Rick Lowe •
2020 Texas Artist of the Year
Celia Álvarez Muñoz •
2020 Lifetime Achievement Award in the Visual Arts
Mary & Bernardino Arocha •
2020 Texas Patrons of the Year
------

Art League Houston (ALH) will hold our first one-of-a-kind 2020 Virtual Gala: Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop on Friday, October 16, 2020, 7 p.m. CST. Co chaired by Dr. Rachel Afi Quinn & Eesha Pandit, Dr. Greg Shannon and Claudia Solís & Dr. Matthew Wettergreen, this digital event will combine many components of ALH's signature in-person gala along with some special surprises! The evening will be emceed by Houston artist Phillip Pyle, ll and feature a delicious, three course dinner created by Underbelly Hospitality. Gala guests will also enjoy a captivating online silent art auction featuring work by both local and nationally recognized artists, a live-streamed performance by the New York–based duo The Illustrious Blacks, plus our annual awards ceremony honoring some of the brightest lights in the arts and arts philanthropy in Texas.

Contributing Artists

Celia Álvarez Muñoz • Charis Ammon • Claire Ankenman • David Aylsworth • Rabea Ballin • Debra Barrera • Erika Blumenfeld • Sebastien Boncy • Alice Leora Briggs • Susan Budge • Antonius-Tín Bui • Violette Bule • Margarita Cabrera • John Calaway • Alberto Careaga • Angel Castelán • Jimmy Castillo • Eepi Chaad • JooYoung Choi • Lucinda Cobley • Ruben Coy • Colby Deal • Jennifer Ling Datchuk • Julie DeVries • Tyler Deauvea • Lina Dib • Marsha Dorsey-Outlaw • Luisa Duarte • Trey Duvall • Brian Ellison • Sharon Engelstein • Ibsen Espada • Orna Feinstein • Caroline Graham • Gao Hang • Joseph Havel • Rachel Hecker • Daniel Heimbinder • Hillerbrand+Magsamen • Clara Hoag • Robert Hodge • Maria Cristina Jadick • Terrell James • Selven O'Keef Jarmon • Ann Johnson • Jules Buck Jones • Ronald Llewellyn Jones • Nyssa Juneau • Tsz Kam • Michael Kennaugh • Bradley Kerl • Daniela Koontz • Dan Lam • Nicolle LaMere • Melinda Laszczynski • Trevon Latin • Polly Liu • Jesse Lott • Matt Manalo • Jake Margolin and Nick Vaughan • Gabriel Martinez • Gabo Martini • Melissa Miller • Delilah Montoya • Arely Morales • Shayne Murphy • Manik Raj Nakra • Karen Navarro • Jessica Ninci • McKay Otto • Sherry Owens • Steve Parker • Eduardo Portillo • Preetika Rajgariah • Josué Ramírez • Cary Reeder • Patrick Renner • Gerardo Rosales • Art Shirer • Anthony Sonnenberg • Alexander Squier • Kari Steele • Mich S • Richard Stout • Terry Suprean • Britt Thomas • Prince Varughese Thomas • Giovanni Valderas • Kelli Vance • Myke Venable • Sarah Williams • Erika Whitney • Dick Wray

Bidding opens September 23 and closes on Friday, October 16 at 11 PM CST.

Click the button be

A.W.H. [Ashley Was Here]

A.W.H. is a revisiting of visual aesthetic and lexicon utilized in my earliest video works.

Due to the unfortunate passing of her mother, Ashley returns visit to Houston. With no remaining familial connections to the city, wishing to close the chapter on Houston, Ashley takes in the streets of Downtown Houston for what could be the last time.

Arranged as a collection of vignettes and scattered moments, A.W.H. serves as documentation that Ashley was here and I bore witness of her presence here.

Art on the Avenue

September 15-19
Online + Winter Street Studios, 2101 Winter Street, Houston, TX 77007

-----
More than 250 artists contribute to Art on the Avenue—Houston’s largest silent art auction and annual fundraiser for Avenue. This annual event raises funds to enhance the quality of life of working families, and to promote healthy, vibrant, and economically diverse neighborhoods to ensure Houston’s future as a world-class city.Save the date for an online auction and semi-virtual experience celebrating the 23rd year of Art on the Avenue and the artists that make Houston more beautiful.

Due to the ongoing risk of the COVID-19 pandemic, this year’s event will take place mostly virtually - over five days – with an online auction and the option to view artwork in person safely during open hours and by appointment. We will be implementing strict safety guidelines and will require that all in-person visitors adhere to them in order to participate. A livestream program will take place on Saturday to close out the auction and contactless curbside pickup is available for all winning bidders.
Art on the Avenue is free to attend online and in-person at Winter Street Studios, but donations and event sponsorships are encouraged. Click the “Become a Sponsor” button for more information. Stay tuned to this space for information on how to reserve your free ticket on Handbid.

Proceeds raised from this event support Avenue’s mission to build affordable homes and strengthen communities but also the artists themselves. Participating artists have the option to donate all or part of their auction sales with Avenue.

Visit our website for more: https://www.avenuecdc.org/art-culture/art-on-the-

avenue/

String Tree

10 x 5 x 5 in2019

Nike i

10 x 5 x 4 in2019

10 x 5 x 5 in2019

Fall Park

10 x 5 x 4 in2019

10 x 5 x 5 in
2019

10 x 5 x 4 in
2019

10 x 5 x 5 in
2019

10 x 5 x 4 in
2019