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I'm a Haitian artist working in textiles, born in Brooklyn, raised in Port-au-Prince.
I work in blue. Indigo, cyanotype, denim, cotton. Blue is both language and landscape to me. It holds mourning and freedom, ceremony and survival. Across Haitian Vodou shrines, Muslim tiles, and Catholic robes, blue is often understood as a sacred color, one that summons and protects whatever realm holds your belief.
I grew up one of six girls among seven cousins. Hand-me-downs weren't just clothes; they were culture. A tutu or Victorian dress passed from body to body carried traces of each celebration, each season of wear. That rhythm taught me care and transformation, how to find beauty in what already existed. Kaymanmzel, my sustainable fashion project, continues that lineage, reworking discarded materials into garments that hold memory and possibility.
That same understanding of objects as carriers of history took root early. My grandparents' house in Port-au-Prince had vivid blue walls that soaked up the sun. I lived there until I was twelve. From the open balcony I watched funeral processions, listened to Rara bands, heard vendors calling out their own makeshift jingles. Blue was always there, painted on walls, woven through memory, alive in gesture, song, and ceremony.
I return to it again and again.
