How I Learned to Put Truth Where It Was Denied

There is a question that has been living inside my practice for a long time, and I want to name it directly:

How do we tell the truth in public space when the truth was never properly placed there to begin with?

That question is not rhetorical. It is the engine of everything I make.

I am a welder. I work in scrap steel — material that already has a life, already carries the memory of labor and industry. I build monuments. I research lineage. I return documented family histories to the descendants of the Transatlantic Slave Trade through handcrafted genealogy books. My whole practice is about finding the places where truth was deliberately omitted and putting it back — permanently, physically, publicly.

Augmented Reality entered my practice not as a trend, not as a tech experiment, but as an answer to a problem I had been sitting with for years. Traditional monuments flatten stories. They generalize. They leave out the very details that matter most — the names, the policies, the specific mechanics of how a community was built and then systematically dismantled. Steel alone, as much as I love it, cannot hold everything that needs to be said. AR gave me a second layer. A layer of voice. A layer of context. A layer of truth embedded directly into the experience of the work — not as an explanation added afterward, but as a dimension of the piece itself.

You can download the link to the AR app here:
Then point your camera at the artwork and you get a suprise!