A year-long exhibition bringing together seven artists in conversation to their cultural identities and homelands.

Cultural Confluence is the sixth rendition of the Bright City initiative, a major public art experience bringing light and artwork to Macon's unique alleyways, presented by Dashboard in partnership with NewTown Macon.

Featuring April Holder, Brittany Postoak, Carrie Lind, George Alexander II, Hotvlkuce Harjo, Jessi Sands, and Randy Kemp, and curated by Yatika Starr Fields.

Cultural Confluence connects the history and stories from individuals and communities spread all throughout Turtle Island¹ (North America).  

Native people today often have more than one tribal connection; this is in part due to the constructs of cultural globalization and by the many infringements on Indigenous people and lands² that started centuries ago in 1492 with the first arrival of European presence. From 1830 to 1956, many Indian treaties and policies were used as means of displacement that contributed to forced removals of ancestral homelands and tribal connections, but brought more native communities together in new ways of cultural survivance³ – art making is one of those ways.  

Each artist demonstrates a lineage through their art that is a testament to cultural survivance in modes of imagery and material. Just like the Ocmulgee river’s confluence at the Oconee River and Altamaha River, these three rivers once held thousands of Mississippian⁴ mound communities and stories. The artwork on view is a confluence of time, branching off from one story to another, always shaped by the next generation’s movement, but holding memory of our ancestors and past. 

At the heart of Native American philosophy lies a profound respect for the natural world, embodied in the concept of Turtle Island. This land, stretching across vast territories is not merely a geographical entity; it is a living, breathing relative. Our connection to the land is intrinsic and sacred, echoing the beliefs and practices of our ancestors. The air we breathe is a gift; its purity essential to our existence and well-being. The waters that cradle Turtle Island are our lifeblood, sustaining ecosystems and communities alike. As custodians of the lands, we uphold the principles of Indigenous sovereignty, striving to protect and honor the integrity of our ancestral lands. This commitment is not just about preservation; it's about nurturing a relationship with the environment that is as much a part of us as we are of it.

¹ Turtle Island is a term used by some Indigenous peoples, primarily those in North America, to  refer to the continent. This name stems from various Indigenous creation stories which describe  the landmass as being formed on the back of a giant turtle. The concept of Turtle Island is deeply  significant in many Native American cultures as it reflects our spiritual beliefs and relationship  with Mother earth. 

² The land as a living entity, deserving of respect and care. This view is central to many  Indigenous cultures' philosophies, spirituality, and practices. 

³ A concept developed by cultural theorist Gerald Vizenor, is an expression of active presence.  The term denotes a response to the attempted cultural and physical genocide of Native  peoples in the United States that is beyond simple survival, but involves acts of resistance  that declare a dynamic presence – often combining traditional ways of knowing with  contemporary technologies that are specific to an individual or tribal affiliation. 

⁴ The Mississippian Period in the midwestern and southeastern United States, which lasted from  about A.D. 800 to 1600, saw the development of some of the most complex societies that ever  existed in North America.

George Alexander II

Osceola, a prominent Muscogee-Creek/Seminole leader, at the moment he is stabbing the Treaty of Payne's Landing. The Treaty of Payne's Landing was an agreement signed in 1832 between the United States and several leaders of the Seminole tribe. The treaty aimed to relocate the Seminole people from their ancestral lands in Florida to designated Indian Territory west of the Mississippi River. This was part of the broader Indian Removal policy pursued by the U.S. government during the 19th century. The treaty stipulated that the Seminoles would move within three years, but it was met with resistance from many within the tribe, leading to the Second Seminole War when the U.S. attempted to enforce the relocation.

Osceola's act of defiance against the U.S. government's efforts to remove the Seminole people from our lands in Florida is a powerful symbol of resistance and courage. This moment, captured in my painting, highlights Osceola's unwavering commitment to our people's sovereignty.

In 2016, I traveled to Florida with Kenneth Johnson and Enoch Kelly Haney, who painted Oceola in the 1980s. Both artists have greatly influenced me. Haney's work, one of the few visual representations of that moment, originally inspired me to become a painter. For my piece, I included a ring by Kenneth Johnson and used the same framing as Haney's original painting. Since I've been exploring Creek history and flat style, I also incorporated a background influenced by Fred Beaver.

Jessi Sands

In Indigenous communities it only takes three generations to lose culture, language, and identity due to forced assimilation and the trauma that follows. I am changing that narrative. I understand the influence of my role as a queer matriarch and by passing on my traditional knowledge I want to focus on healing that intergenerational cycle by not passing on my ancestral wounds to my children.

It has taken three generations from my grandma to my mother then to me, for me to begin to recognize and face the intergenerational trauma that has haunted my family since our removal to Oklahoma in the 1840s. The battered squash forms represent my wounded matriarchal lineage, personifying the slow cycle of destruction and covering up of ancestral wounds that get passed down. The squash at the bottom of the cycle represents myself, the vessel is standing tall and confronting this flooding of generational wounds that has been passed down, but I am refusing to pass on.

The distressed cotton fiber is dyed with beets and red onion skins to represent bloodied wounds and a physical manifestation of trauma. The hue isn’t stable, meaning it will fade from a red blush into a warm magenta then finally after a few weeks into a soft sandy hue. This fading process of the fiber mirrors the subtle ways the body heals itself.