The following conversation between artist M. Florine Démosthène and Frist Art Museum Senior Curator Katie Delmez took place in the fall of 2024. It has been lightly edited for clarity.
KD: In Multiplicity: Blackness in Contemporary American Collage, we focused on how collage was a part of your creation process. This exhibition is looking at how your Haitian American identity informs the work. What are some of the primary ways in which we can see that influence?
MFD: My Haitian identity echoes through the spiritual aspects of my work, drawing from Haitian folklore and spiritual practices. The dual reflections and representation of Marassa, the twin spirit, are significant here. I consider the notes of Haitian influences more subtle, especially in how the figures interact on the page. Having been born and raised in New York, you’ll also see American and West African influences. These influences are interconnected, and the spiritual aspect is the core of my work. I explore spiritual practices and their interpretations, which can be seen in the doubling of figures and references to concepts like the Marassa and the special significance of twins in African practices. Ultimately, the influences might be categorized as primary, secondary, or tertiary, but the spiritual dimension is fundamental to my work.
KD: What are some of the commonalities that you see between your work and Didier William’s, and where do you see departures?
MFD: Formally, we share similarities in how our figures are defined yet undefined, existing in spaces that are both defined and nebulous. The way our figures impose themselves on their surroundings is central to both of our work. It’s not always about the space but rather how the figure interacts with it. We also use a similar color palette, but our interpretations diverge significantly. For example, Didier constructs his figures with multiple all-seeing eyes, which imbues them with spiritual and metaphysical qualities. However, I don’t think he explicitly frames his work in that context, while I delve deeper into these spiritual practices. His approach tends to focus outward, viewing the world differently, often more politically.
KD: Do you see your work as being part of the conversation to present a more accurate and complete narrative about Haitians living in the and working in the US?
MFD: I find these questions frustrating because discussions about Haiti often reduce the narrative to just three topics: politics, poverty, and crime. It feels like there’s a lack of recognition for the richness of Haitian culture beyond these issues. For instance, when people think of Italy, they don’t immediately ask about the Mafia; they think about the food, art, and history. Similarly, Haiti has so much more to offer, but it often gets polarized into these narrow categories, which has always annoyed me. My political stance has often been subtle; for example, I once rebelled against the fact that Haitian Kreyòl wasn’t recognized as an official language by refusing to learn French. Regarding cultural practices, like the incident in Ohio, it’s a misunderstanding of cultural norms. Many cultures have different views on what is considered edible, and this reflects more about American perceptions of pets than Haitian practices.
In my work, I intentionally avoid polarizing politics and focus instead on the intricate ties within our culture—how it intersects with West African, French, and American influences. To discuss Haiti in a balanced way, one must understand its complex history, including the histories of the US, France, and the Caribbean, as well as the role of corporate entities like the Dutch West Indies Corporation. Most people seek quick answers and sound bites, which neglects these deeper connections. I prefer to explore the spiritual aspects of how we see ourselves and our cultural practices, which often go overlooked. Haitians are proud of their religious practices, including Vodou, and we don’t want them to be stigmatized or glorified. The immigrant experience is a sensitive topic for me because it highlights a broader ignorance about history. Understanding politics requires a deep knowledge of history, and unfortunately, many people overlook this essential context or don’t care to educate themselves.
KD: How do you see your experience as an immigrant or first generation American intersecting with those of immigrants from other parts of the world?
MFD: I believe many immigrant experiences in this country share common threads, but what makes each unique is the personal lens through which one views their experience, often influenced by family dynamics. In my case, my experience was shaped by the fact that most people I encountered associated Blackness with English-speaking individuals. If you spoke English, even with an accent, Americans, particularly African Americans, were generally more receptive. However, speaking a language like French or Haitian Creole sometimes made it harder for people to engage or accept you. I encountered more prejudicial and racial treatment from African Americans than from others. Additionally, during the ’80s and ’90s, the stigma around HIV disproportionately affected Haitians, leading to further discrimination. Despite this, my family wore our Haitian identity as a badge of honor, embracing our history and legacy. While I see struggles in the immigrant experience as universal—especially when families face language barriers and cultural differences—the unique stigma against Haitians tied to American policy stands out for me.
