My sister and I blossomed in the land of red dirt – of endless greens amid piercing blues as well – but as we saw it, of red dirt. Warm, dusty, rust-colored, stain your clothes, hands, face, body – red dirt. The type of dirt that seeps in your pores and consumes the landscape, leaving you wondering how the world around it, existing within it, flourished so. Sometimes we would mix the dirt with seawater and paint designs on our faces – carrying the vestiges of queens of old, other times it was for building structures, and still other times we would just lay until its warmth soaked into our bones. We came from that dirt.

Kirra Kimbrell Scape,  Mixed Media 2017




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