12 07 2011

After countless hours of early morning photo taking, late night poem crafting and all throughout the day gallery preparing, Matt and I (Kate) successfully installed our collaborative work this past weekend in the Xnihilo Gallery at 2115 Taft St. One wall hosts a series of images of the public art installations Matt has placed in our First Ward neighborhood during the past 10 months. The opposite wall is a display of photo and text vignettes highlighting 9 different women and their lives in the neighborhood as captured by myself in informal interview format throughout the year. The third and most interactive wall is a combination of my photos and Matt’s poems in three distinct yet interrelated sections, each relating individual story with overarching issues influencing neighborhood dynamics. The gallery will remain on display until July 30.



21 06 2011



The discovery of a luxury loft next an vacant lot with sunflowers and an old house was to good to pass up. The text is three stanzas from a previous poem, the site is Silver St. near the corner of Edwards St. I had a second window installation, with a new poem, but unfortunately it was taken within 24 hours. Se la vie.

(Also, apologies to Becky Harlan to stealing your window idea.)



Translated [Pt. 2]

21 06 2011






A couple weeks ago I set up my translation the first stanza of raulrsalinas’ “La Loma” (the poem on my first sign project).

This is an empty lot on Crockett St. near the intersection of Silver St.




9 06 2011

My Spanish translation of “Having Heard of Rivers,” under the freeway along the Heights Bike Trail just a couple hundred feet from the White Oak Bayou.

Having Heard of Rivers (After Langston)

20 05 2011

This is my favorite thus far.

Having Heard of Rivers

After Langston

The Tire Dump, Redeemed

26 04 2011

The tires, as I had mentioned, were removed in less than 24 hours. I was disheartened, and had counted it as the third project (of six so far) to have been removed.

But then, on my walk to Gano Mission Center on Wednesday morning, I saw them in huge pile the adjacent field (behind the vine-covered fence you can see in the photos). And all the people of the land rejoiced. The next day I decided to just roll with the punches, and rearrange them in their new location.

Vacancies: The Tire Dump

19 04 2011

Aka the one that lasted less than 24 hours. . .  When I returned the next day, they were already removed, making this the third piece that has had a short life-span. They were gone before I could get any quality photos as well.

Seeing numerous piles of tires dumped in vacant lots or roadsides, I decided to play around with language, putting creative language where commercial language typically resides. (Unfortunately, it was still trash to someone.) I wrote this short poem specifically for the tires.

This is more commentary than I normally make alongside a poem, but I feel like giving some background to what brought the piece about. The 1st Ward was once the site of a Civil War mass grave — over which Jefferson Davis Hospital (now Elder Street Artist Lofts) was built — and I saw a connection between these acts of mass disposing of “expendables.” Two improper burials, with wider social implications. The subnarrative–the underlying connection–is the mass pushing out of people of color–having first dumped them into the ghetto then pushing them out again now that this land is desirable.

Dump us
in mass
graves, like
dead, like
runaway slaves
breath and noose.