I think often of my maternal ancestry. This has become more so after I had my mitochondrial DNA tested. I didn't know my grandmothers and to an even lesser extent my great grandmother and beyond. My own mother was too consumed with the present, trying to keep up with a houseful of children, to tell stories of family history in any detail. Every once in a while she'd mention something about my grandmother, but never really much about what my grandmother would in turn say about her own mother. Perhaps between the absence of deep connection with my mom and the lack of information from the past, I've filled in the gaps as best as I could, often pulling from cultural/collective consciousness. Frequently feeling on the outside, I look for ways to experience being more part of a greater whole. I blur the line between who I am now with who and where I come from, in my art and my various creative endeavors. The colors with which I surround myself, what I grow in my garden, what I cook and conjure in my kitchen, all of these and more reflect my search for personal history, inclusion and meaning.
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