Screenprints and accompanying zine based on stories of working in a community garden in Hamtramck.
Al-zawaj zayy al-batikha.
Marriage is like a watermelon.
(You never know what it’s like ‘til you open it up.)
One day in early June, I was in line at Al-Haramain, and the man in front of me was buying a watermelon. As he was paying, he thumped on it and asked the cashier whether it was a good one. The cashier just said, “You never know…you never know.”
While digging around for weeds, I spotted a glimpse of orange from the lone carrot whose seed germinated, despite our neglect (bordering on abuse) after planting. Salma was watering the greens at the time, but when I pointed out the bit of color on top of the soil, she offered to liberate it from underneath the ground and ran across the street to show it to her mother, who was (as always) at home.
Copper plate etchings of infrastructure in and around Detroit (see post below too).
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