I was leaving the South
To fling myself into the unknown...
I was taking a part of the South
To transplant on alien soil
To see if it could grow differently
If it could drink of new and cool rains
Bend in strange winds
Respond to the warmth of other suns
And, perhaps, to bloom.
This sculpture asks the question; can migration be a radical act? Particularly when justice is not available in the place left behind. I ask this question with a focused interest in the experience of my family in The Great Migration, labor rights, and current immigration politics.