Magnolia petals
Sometimes our art has a way of revealing our shadows and their truth. Through my own art-making journey, I confront what I could not unsee and tried to avoid – white guilt, shame, and discomfort – that was coming out in my artwork during the time of George Floyd’s murder and ongoing fight for racial justice.
First published in July 2020 – Magnolia petals and leaves had been falling everywhere in my neighborhood in Alexandria, Virginia by late spring. The trees are so majestic and beautiful to me. The first time I saw a magnolia tree was in Philadelphia, where I went to college. I’d never seen one before. I was from the North and they were a tree of the South.
I began collecting the dried petals on my walks, lured by how they transformed from a creamy velvety white into a spice clay color and leathery texture. I filled up the fold of my shirt greedily with petals, as I reached for more on the ground. I was already imagining the beautiful things I would make with them.
Nature has always had an influence on my art - whether using twigs and stones as “brushes” to hold ink in expressive mark making, or my close up photography of tree bark and leaves, and more recently, making sculptural healing chimes from natural found objects and natural-dyed fabric and thread from Laos.
For many years now nature has been my practice and has offered me great wisdom in the process. When I see, when I listen, when I notice, nature shares her truths with me. I couldn’t have known then, that when I was collecting those magnolia petals she would be taking me not to beauty as I had imagined, but to the dark truths of my own racism and the centuries of killing of Black bodies. It would come out in my artwork.
At the same time that spring there was George Floyd’s brutal killing, were mass protests in response to end police brutality and racial injustice, a rise in Black voices and Black Lives Matter, and me having to contend again with my whiteness and waking up a little bit more to my own racism. It felt like a collective shift this time, of white people grappling with our not seeing, not listening, not noticing, and not getting it. I like to believe that more of us are getting it this time, in a deeper way. At least I hope.
All the white feelings of guilt, shame, and discomfort engulfed me, though. I bought books on white fragility, white supremacy, Black history, and anti-racism; listened to podcasts with Black thought leaders; listened to Black music; and attended webinars on what white women can do. Would it make a difference? I had my inner doubts and struggles. I was reminded of what Brene Brown said recently. “When I find myself in tough conversations, when I am being held accountable, when I am called to unlearn, relearn, or just learn — this is my mantra: I am here to get it right.”
Back in my studio, I was listening to Ibram X. Kendi read from his book, How to be an Anti-Racist while exploring what beautiful thing to create with the magnolia petals. I lined them up in neat rows to see their variety of shapes. And then I saw it. I couldn’t unsee it – Black bodies. It looked like what I had seen in drawn diagrams of slave ships, where all the African slaves were lined up and crammed tightly as stowed cargo below deck. It unnerved me.
I kept working. I’d been using natural indigo-dyed cotton thread from my travels to Laos in my artwork, wrapping leaves and stems in making various healing chimes. I began gently wrapping the thread around the magnolia petals, the indigo and spice clay such a dramatic color combination. And I saw it again – Black bodies. This time shackled African slaves. It rattled me deep.
My hands kept creating for three days, searching for my sanity and shunning my shadow. Wanting to make something “beautiful” I started to make a healing chime. But in the end I saw only more Black bodies, this time being lynched.
I tried one last time, wrapping the tips of the petals, but I saw only Black bodies being choked.
I could not unsee what I was seeing, or avoid what I was trying to avoid – the dark truth. I had to face what my mind did not want to accept – my white guilt, shame, and discomfort, all messengers of the unconscious shadow pointing to my own racism and ancestral reckoning. They were telling me it’s my responsibility now to try to get it right and do my part to right what our white ancestors got so wrong.
White velvety magnolia flowers – so noble and perfect on their majestic pedestal in the trees. When they fall their petals are scattered on the ground, soon to turn a spice clay color with a leathery texture. I pick them up, hold them close, and nature reveals her fierce wisdom.
What is beautiful anyway? Attuning to the rattling chimes of shadowy messengers that are integrated now into my own inner healing.
Listen to the audio
An edited version of Magnolia Petals and the four photos appeared WePAUSED! A Community Handmade Book Project by Studio PAUSE. It was also translated into Spanish by Rubén Villalta, and into Arabic by Soheir Ghali. You can listen to those below, as well in English by me.
See the show
I’m honored to have Magnolia Petals: Dark Truths in the WePAUSED! Unbound exhibit from June to August 2022, in the first installation, “The Water Still Churns… which finds the Studio PAUSE community navigating the outside world during a global pandemic and an on-going struggle for racial justice.” Read all about the year-long exhibit and the other artists here!
Magnolia Petals: Dark Truths, 2020 – Dried flower petals reveal dark truths about white America’s racial reckoning. Set of 4/Digital documentation of fiber sculptures. Framed set $2000. To purchase, email marylouisemarino@gmail.com.
I was asked to offer an update two years later for the exhibit program, and this is what I wrote:
On a recent walk in my neighborhood I passed by the big magnolia tree where I remember first picking up the dried petals. There they were again, scattered on the ground in their spice clay color and leathery texture. Then I looked up. There they were, too, big white velvety flowers. Many were already in a state of falling apart. They were opening up and relinquishing their place above. They were changing. I reflected on my own whiteness again, touching the fragile petals. This time I could see it and didn’t want to unsee it, acknowledging again my own racism and ancestral reckoning. This is the way. Keep falling apart. Stay open. Relinquish more. Be the change. Shake the tree so others will follow.
A huge thank you to Sushmita Mazumdar for the incredible opportunity to share my work in the WePAUSED! Community Handmade Book Project and the WePAUSED! Unbound Exhibit; to Susan Sterner who created the professional digital prints and donated the frames; and to Kathy Spritz for taking the photo of me in front of my artwork at the reception!
Would you like to get your own second edition copy of the WePAUSED! book and be a part of Studio PAUSE? Go here!
The WePAUSED! Unbound Exhibit is located at Arlington Arts Gallery, 3700 S. Four Mile Run Drive, Arlington VA 22206 until the end of August 2022.
And I’m excited to announce that since December 2022, I’ve switched to Ko-fi!
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A big shout out to my wonderful supporters! Thank you, each of you, for supporting my ongoing creative work – Julie B, Sharmila K, Sushmita M, Kori J, Marga F, Kara B, Kristina L, Laura C, Louise B, Beck C, Skip M, Chris Z, and Richie M. It means so much and I am grateful. I think of you as create these posts, what I write about and share, and I hope that it offers you insight and inspiration along the way.
