Back in the Studio: Where the Sound Has Been Taking Me

It’s been a while since my last blog post. The last time I checked in here, I was preparing for the Atlanta Black Girl Art Show—and now, somehow, we’re already in 2026.

Since then, I haven’t disappeared. I’ve been in the studio. Deep in it.

If I’m being honest, I’ve had a bit of cabin fever. I’ve spent more time inside this apartment than outside of it, working through ideas, materials, and questions that kept asking to be explored. Some seasons require visibility. Others require isolation. This one has been about listening.

If you’ve been following me on social media—especially TikTok—you’ve seen glimpses of what I’ve been working on. I’ve been continuing my exploration of Black music and the artists who shaped, carried, and sustained our culture. This work isn’t about nostalgia; it’s about honoring lineage while pushing myself to grow.

Lately, I’ve been immersed in a series of cassette tape paintings. Each cassette features a Black artist, with every artist representing a letter of the alphabet. Twenty-six letters. Twenty-six voices. A visual archive built through rhythm, memory, and repetition. The cassette tapes themselves feel intentional—objects that once carried sound, intimacy, and survival are now becoming surfaces for reflection and reverence.

This project has challenged my patience, my discipline, and my technical skill. It has asked me to slow down, to stay consistent, and to trust the process even when the work feels repetitive or quiet. There is something powerful about committing to a full alphabet—about seeing a body of work grow one letter at a time.

And I’m not stopping there.

My next project will push me further, both technically and conceptually. I’m moving into three-dimensional work, using CDs as a surface—similar to how I’ve worked with vinyl records and cassette tapes, but with a new spatial challenge. Light, reflection, depth, and structure are all becoming part of the conversation. I’m interested in how sound lives not just on a surface, but in space.

This season of my practice has been about expansion—of skill, of material, and of intention. I’m building something slower, more deliberate, and more aligned with the questions I care about now: How does Black music hold us? How does it heal us? How does it continue to shape who we are?

Thank you for staying, watching, and listening—whether that’s here, in the studio, or through the work itself. There’s more coming. I’m still building.