The stories of the South are written in earth and memory. As a Black Southern woman, my creative practice is rooted in the traditions passed down through generations—stories of protection, resilience, and deep connection to the land. Growing up, I often gazed at bottle trees in family yards: striking towers of cobalt glass glinting in the sun, their origins a convergence of West African spiritual tradition and Southern heritage. These trees were more than decoration; they were guardians, placed by elders who understood that the veil between worlds—natural and supernatural, human and ancestor—was thin and deserving of reverence.

In Echoes of Protection: Bottle Tree 2075, I draw on these ancestral signifiers to envision a future where environmental awareness and spiritual practice are inseparable. My engagement with Hoodoo and folk knowledge informs both the subject and the process. The use of digital media allowed me to reimagine the glowing bottles as guardians not only of homes, but also of the remnants of nature: plants, seeds, and the memories of vanished ecologies. Each bottle is a tribute to what has been, a hope for what may still endure.

My art practice is guided by a deep respect for the power of ritual—in art-making and in daily life. I consider how materials (whether glass, code, or narrative) become vessels for intention and remembrance. Through research, experimentation, and an openness to interdisciplinary tools, I aim to create works that bridge past and future, myth and material reality. The present project asks what it means to protect, to remember, and to honor—especially in the context of climate change and cultural loss. In 2075, will we have learned from our ancestors, honoring not only tradition but also our responsibility to nature?

Ultimately, my work seeks to illuminate the necessity of carrying forward ancestral knowledge as a resource for healing, resilience, and environmental renewal. In every glowing bottle, I hope viewers sense both a warning and a blessing—a call to remember and a promise that stewardship, like memory, can shine through whatever darkness may come.