Diaspora, manipulated antique iron crib, garlic, twine, 2011

In this piece, a crib mobile made from garlic cloves is suspended over a badly damaged iron crib. Taken at its most superficial level, the piece could be a discourse on the difficulties of parenting; the seemingly impossible task of protecting your children from all the hazards presented by a dangerous world. Actually, though, at the time I made it I had been tracing my family’s ancestry, which is very mixed. Again and again, I saw movements of individuals or little family groups across oceans, across continents, across countries, each time sparked by conditions that had become unsustainable in one way or another. People were starving, people couldn’t get paying work, people were fleeing racial or religious persecution, they were uprooted by war or its afermath. A pattern emerged of the cradle becoming unsafe or smashed to bits, sending the occupants scuttling away in search of a safe haven, a better place, a chance to start over. The word diaspora is derived from a Greek word that meant scattering or sowing. I am writing this explanation in October of 2024, when immigration is one of the primary topics of debate in the upcoming presidential election. It is a complex, difficult topic and I have no easy answers. Truthfully, I don’t think there are any easy answers. As a child of many broken cradles, though, I hope we end up on the right side of this and that a healthy dose of compassion is leavened into the solution.