Retraction, 2020, Acrylic, oil, glue and dry pigment on canvas, 72 x 54 inches 

Allusions to the red carpet date back to at least 458 BC in the Greek playwright Aeschylus’ Agamemnon. Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife, speaks of a “floor of crimson broideries to spread / For the King’s path.” In this case, the path was to his death. Today, rolling out the red carpet is typically a glamorous gesture of welcome, one recognizing celebrity or social status. 

Throughout American history, the reception of immigrants has veered between hospitable and hateful. Emma Lazarus’ famous 1883 poem describes the Statue of Liberty as receptive ““Give me your tired, your poor/ Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,/ The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.” That beacon has been nearly extinguished too many times, with welcomes retracted or denied.

Retraction presents a crumpled red carpet, backed by desiccated earth—suggesting the hostile terrain so many immigrants and refugees face in seeking survival.