irene antonia diane reece

Give without sparing . . . Proverbs 21:26, 2023,( 27:00m ) audio recording

Irene Antonia Diane Reece

Archives, Oral History & Persona Items: courtesy of Albert Ceasar, Henrietta Robinson, Linda Preston Johnson

You Can’t Pray A Lie, 2023, installation

Irene Antonia Diane Reece

Archives, Oral History & Persona Items: courtesy of Albert Ceasar, Henrietta Robinson, Linda Preston Johnson; Slave Narrative Collection, Houston History Research Center, Houston Public Library

A photographic series with the collaboration of native 4th ward residents’ archives, oral history, and portraits. 

I often think that the majority of my history whether it be family or community has always been passed down orally. The great-grandparents, the auntie, uncs, grannies, grand-daddies–the family friends, all have been a part of our lives and have at one point bestowed knowledge or gifted down memories. I often thought about that when creating this work, much like previous work with the archives. I was reminded recently about the significance of the meaning of when an elder within your family or community passes on. The effects it could have–if those memories, and knowledge were not preserved or circulated. I was reminded that when an elder passes on in the community, it's like a piece of that history dies with them. It’s like a library full of knowledge, identity, and culture, becomes destroyed. And if not treated or make efforts to collect, preserve, and circulate it will eventually be forgotten. I want us to be curious about our history. I want us to connect, continue to protect, and make sure nothing is forgotten.

Poem . . . by Langston Hughes 

‘The night is beautiful,

So the faces of my people.

The stars are beautiful,

So the eyes of my people.

Beautiful, also, is the sun.

Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people.’