This is an ode to hair that has been shunned, dismissed, chemically burned and hidden for centuries. This series is an effort to come to terms with conflicting feelings I have borne the moment I realised the significance of the crown that was placed upon my head from birth. I invite the viewer into my space, to experience my daily rituals and the intimate and complex relationship with my hair. Brushing, shedding, cutting, detangling … discard These hairs from my head, light as a feather Yet heavy with the weight of history These fallen hairs are gathered for a new purpose, a drawing of sorts. They are truly dead, but the moment they make contact with hot fused glass, they come back to life—crackling and dancing on the surface. Each hair takes its last breath and fizzles into the air. Leaving its scent, an intense mark, stronger even—than when it was a part of me.
Funlola Coker MFA Metals