I could say these are confusing times but there is, in truth, nothing especially confusing about what we are witnessing. What unfolds now has been unfolding for a very long time. As someone deeply devoted to history rather than politics, I nevertheless find that politics has a way of dominating the narrative. It is both frustrating and beautiful, infuriating, yet profoundly revealing. At once disorienting and remarkably clear when examined through the lens of humanity and its many layers. Many maaaaaaanny layers.

I am writing this with very little sleep, it seems lack of sleep awakens something in the back of my brain that says “here is resignation, you couldn’t see it before.'“ There was a conversation that had to be had and with that a lot of questions. Some had answers but many simply led to more questions which are some of my favorites and out of that conversation was so much room for anger and gratitude, love and grief, exhaustion and the readiness to take on what is knocking at the door. Confusion, however, is not merely an obstacle; it can also be a form of salvation. To question is to open a path toward understanding…of the subject, of the self, and of the space between. I cannot receive information without interrogating it. I cannot experience without questioning the experience itself. Curiosity and confusion often coexist: one is the choice to look closely, the other the feeling of having no choice at all, maybe of being shaped by circumstance. A kind of captivity, perhaps, but also a catalyst. I started this newsletter saying these are confusing times and then went back and edited. Because when have things not been confusing and when have things ever been crystal clear and that clarity lasts for more than a moment before something else knocks that one has never seen before in this particular way.

I often speak about intention when it comes to art, though intention is never singular or simple. It is deeply nuanced, shaped by complex conditions that give rise to countless small decisions, questions, and renewed curiosities. Intention is not static; it is responsive and requires multilayered vision. I think of this vision when I think of beautiful things like the Monks walking to D.C. or the hard things like the complexities of what is happening in Venezuela. Someone’s leg was made sacred and offered to the mission. Another felt liberated by another’s capture and there is much more nuance in both of these examples.

I do not speak about this often, but there are moments when I feel compelled to name it: my work is not inherently political, yet depending on how I enter a space, it may be read as such. To show up in Blackness is to occupy a political space. To show up as a woman is political. To show up as an American is political. I am often uncomfortable articulating this, particularly as I continue to benefit from programs and structures that require identification. Yet, as I grow more confident in the authentic mirror I am becoming, I feel called to say this plainly:

As a Black American artist, I navigate a complex set of expectations surrounding how my identity should be expressed through my work. There exists an implicit pressure for artists from historically marginalized communities to center narratives of struggle, trauma, or social urgency in order to be legible or supported. While I deeply respect the necessity and power of such work, my own practice moves in a different direction.

My work is rooted in tenderness, intimacy, and the exploration of shared interior states—what might be described as soul, collective consciousness, or the emotional undercurrents that connect us beyond fixed identity. Creating work that seeks to transcend categorization rather than reinforce it can present challenges within systems that more readily recognize art framed through hardship or visible crisis.

In moments when the world feels acutely fractured or burning, work that operates through care, quietness, and emotional unity can be more difficult to position, advocate for, or sustain.

I make work as something operating a body, for other things, put even more plainly, trying to understand how all of this functions, how we align, and what within me/us responds.

*Where All Things Connect… It’s Just Less Dense Here*
2025
Mixed Media Collage, Japanese Paper, Fibers, Watercolor, Spray-Paint, Acrylic, and India Ink on BFK
30” x 30”

Because times may always be confusing and may always require those affected by immediate danger to take the stage, my concern lies with “ will there ever be space for peace. Is peace worth investing in? Do museums want to put on a exhibition and highlight what some may deem as an unrealistic worldview. Or a worldview that the world can not support while its on fire, because the conversations must happen. I titles this newsletter In the studio with the heaviness of awareness, because more often than not more awareness doesn’t band-aid the hurt if anything more awareness is just surface exposed more wounds to talk about more scratches, bruises, and broken bones and, and, and. My work exists in a space that fluctuates between ecstasy and peace, only because of its acceptance, willingness, love, compassion for the grit, the fire and the destruction, and the artist in me really hopes that institutions make room for aerial perspectives. That are not confused. But dare to be in awe.

Okay lets end on a really positive note this time around. Here are some new things happening. I am in beekeeping school working to get state certified in taking care of nature’s angels. I am a resident artist at the McColl center in Charlotte NC. I am a freshly made business owner, shout out to Komikka & Company. I currently have a piece showing in Baton Rouge, and I am getting back into the printmaking studio… I am probably missing a few things but this is just straight off the dome. If you, you know. 2026 started with go go go in mind and I am grateful to move forward with a momentum that feels right rather than rushed. Life has a way of showing you how ready you are to experience things you never thought you would. Cheers to breaking ceilings that went unnoticed and borders that seemed impossible. I’ve been shown what life can be when one allows themselves to live in constant ecstasy, and that comes with accepting it without conditions. Rolling around in joy when joy presents itself.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

- Komikka Patton