Les Parages artist statement. written on the indigenous never-surrendered land of the Shinnecock Tribal Nation (currently Southampton NY) 11.2021
If, through this work, I change how one person perceives soil, land and the dialogue of elements, my work here is done.
If, through this work, I can bring to light the power of this never surrendered land, my work here is done.
The fact that the word culture originally comes from the root concept of cultivation, has felt deeply and acutely present in my residency here. Cultivation is an act of care, an act of nurturing, an act of support and sustenance. For art to be a form of cultivation has never felt more right or true.
To be here, to be welcomed to learn and create on this never surrendered land of the Shinnecock has been transformative, tremendous. Some days, almost haunting. I’ve had spiritual encounters here, undoubtedly, especially while visiting the first Land Back site on Sugar Loaf Hill in Southampton. The visible and invisible energy of this land is tactile. The verdant biodiversity of plants and trees differs from the manicured rigidity of the surroundings. More land should look, feel and sing like this.
In 2021, is not the most fundamental radical transformation needed in our society to be found in the recreation of the relationship between ourselves and land? For too long the planet and people have been degraded by the violences of colonialism, capitalism and white supremacy. In Marie Monique Robin’s book La Fabrique des pandémies (2021) she explains, through her research with hundreds of scientists, how the species of bat that disseminated COVID-19 was a climate migrant, fleeing its original territory as a result of deforestation which led to weaker immunity, ultimately resulting in the last 21 months of our lives.1
There is a deep grief I have felt, too, that these people have had to endure so much violence and suffering. I understand that as a BIPOC Korean-American-French female, having lived a certain breed of that as did my ancestors. I’ve re-felt rage, or re-embodied this rage, towards the colonialism & white supremacy that exploited so much land, from this local setting to the global scale. Realizing that we are feeling the blows and repercussions of that violence in this age of extreme climate change, hurts.
While also feeling these aches and pains, I also feel relief to be here. The relief is deep. To be on indigenous, never surrendered land. To be in a BIPOC art space. These people and this land are here, living, now. These 800 acres rustle in the wind with a beauty that is alive, rooted in a time that is deep. Millennia. Even as I feel the scars, there is an incredible safety here. I am seen. I am welcomed by my peers. I am told to slow down, be myself, to learn to lay into the land, the sea, and let it all hold me.