INHERITANCE: When the Soul Remembers

Pen and Paper This piece took a bit out of me. The top half came almost like a whisper, clear, steady, like I was being shown something rather than creating it. The face, the flames, the cowries orbiting the head like ancestral satellites, all of that flowed. It felt like memory. Like something I had already known but never drawn before. ‎ ‎But then the lower half… that was a different kind of journey. Slower. Stranger. The hands opening the torso, what were they even revealing? I paused a lot. Stared. Walked away. Came back. I wrestled with space, with form, with meaning. But eventually, that void, the cosmic nest at the core, emerged. And I realized it wasn’t empty. It was alive. Loud in its silence. Sacred. ‎ ‎This work is a meditative hum that carries the essence of somatic philosophy—the weight of Black/African culture, cosmology, mythological fusion, and ancestry. And also, the very human truth that creating something meaningful isn’t always graceful. Sometimes it’s slow, weird, painful… but it reveals itself through the process of trying to bring invisible things to paper with just a pen and stubborn faith. ‎ ‎It’s spiritual and a little mad. A prayer dressed in surrealism. ‎A glimpse into my insides and the places my mind drifts when I listen deeply. ‎ ‎It’s not perfect. But it’s honest.