‘Sweet’
— Nix Thérèse
In truth, I lack fervor for the new year. An arctic cold front has gripped New Orleans and has reduced me to a shiver in bed; silver that usually hugs my fingers keeps sliding round and round my hand. It’s a time where the universe seems to be calling me to hibernate and recalculate while my eyes are constantly reaching for anything warm, and the ‘Sweet’ series certainly delivers. Men & boys are rendered at the barbershop, most of the collages offering sunset-colored hues. Their tears are glossy crystal, a move also employed by FKA Twigs’ Water Me; I consider how both perspectives are simply asking for space & existence. Can the femme body be allowed its emotion, gesture, and speech? Can the femme body be loved in spaces where masculinity reigns?
The glint of gold & silver glitter make what would otherwise be matte hair pop against faces, the hair holding a defined shape & gesture that speaks to us directly. After all, if you’re gonna suffer being uncomfortable at best and silenced at worst, shouldn’t your crown gleam? Some cuts feel just barely controlled: a smooth side taper while the rest spikes out in glory. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know the little plastic roses that cover their eyes wouldn’t be tasty, but the light pinks feel so much like soft, braided candy. Some hair feels like a spilled strawberry milkshake that we could lap off the scalp. Even the speckled chair calls ropes of Nerds or candy bark to mind. These intentional links to the candy-shop against the silent, crying body are such a stark juxtaposition. How often do we turn to the sweet for comfort, washing the taste of a bad day out our mouths? How often is the sweet matched with celebration, some willing reward for surviving? Too often we want to rob the femme body of sweetness, but here it rightfully cloaks each frame, a fire that can’t be put out.