Blood at the Root
(Uses green stuff world skeleton crunch plates in the base.)
This piece started as exploring the idea of haunted houses that aren’t easily identified as haunted, but the longer I worked on it the more I realized that that may be a way of summarizing the ideas I had about this piece but my feelings about it lay more with the bones than I initially realized, especially when you consider the trope of haunted houses on “Indian Burial Grounds.”
All of our privileges and luxuries are built on the bones of people that our ancestors or our governments decided were unworthy of those luxuries, especially in the United States, and especially in the suburbs that for so many years explicitly excluded black and brown people.
All white folks should remember that we stand not only on the shoulders of our ancestors but on the bodies of those they subjugated, and that we continue to benefit from the oppression that they perpetuated and from oppressions that our lives still support.
Who haunts this house, and why? Are all the flowers just covering up the decay just under the surface, or are they funerary offerings? Is the bright cheery scene above a way to hide the atrocities below, or is it a part of the grief process, a way to move on? I think the answer to these questions largely depends on who the people living in the house are and what they do.