You can’t compromise my joy.

Solo Exhibition by Kori Price

New City Arts Initiative’s Welcome Gallery - Charlottesville, VA

Artist Statement

Purchase Pieces

Exhibition Video

C-ville Weekly Article

Ariana | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 16 in.

Fragmented I - V | 2022 | Sheetrock, latex paint, bullet holes

Did you just touch my hair? |2022 |Faux hair, dowel rod, wooden beads, metal adornments

As a Black person, it feels as if our every action is under examination and compared to “perfection” (read as: white beauty, social, class, and economical standards). We are told that we can exist if we conform. Though, even if we do conform, the color of our skin is still a target for racism on a scale including suburban Karens who feel threatened by our existence; school officials and workplaces that say our natural hair is not appropriate; white men with guns “protecting” their neighborhoods from Black people walking home or out for a run; and law enforcement that kneels on us until we can’t breathe or charges into our homes in the middle of the night and kills us in our groggy daze. We face this reality every single day. That at any time, without warning we or our loved ones could be the next face spray painted on the side of a building or sketched with sharpie on cardboard signs. Our name could be a part of protest chants or a hashtag under a blank black square on Instagram. That even if we are murdered, we may not receive the justice that we deserve. Yet, amidst this terror, this threat to our existence, we live. We choose to experience joy

Miray | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 18 in.

Aaliyah II | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 16 in.

Scattered: Pages from Louisville Metro PD’s PIU 20-019 Case Files

De’Ajree | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 18 in.

For this exhibition I created a Black woman’s headspace to demonstrate to how this tension between joy and terror can exist internally. The gallery windows are obscured by fabrics woven with different colored and textured Black hair to stand as a barrier between what is external to the Black woman and what is internal. Once inside, the viewer must continually choose to experience joy as they navigate between portraits of Black women from our community doing something that brings them joy and a representation of the terror that Black women face.

Thirty-seven woven pieces installed hanging from ceiling. Materials include: faux hair, yarn, wooden beads, metal adornments, and braid rings. Over 85 hours of work went into just these weavings.

This tension and turbulence between joy and terror affect our body, soul, and mind.

Nicole| 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 18 in.

Tobiah | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 18 in.

Courtney, Phoenix, Amari | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 12 x 18 in.

Reyshawn I | 2021 | Inkjet print on photo paper | 16 x 16 in.

…there are certain events and stories that hit home harder than others and Breonna Taylor’s murder was that for me. A few months after I moved into my home I had a peaceful encounter with police officers knocking on my door in the middle of the night looking for the previous homeowner. I didn’t think much of that interaction until years later in 2020 when Breonna Taylor was murdered in her own home in the middle of the night because police officers were looking for people who weren’t there. To translate this reminder into something physical, I painted a piece of sheetrock the same color as my bedroom and shot it thirty-two times to represent the number of bullets police officers fired into Breonna Taylor’s home. In addition, I display pages from some of the investigative reports from her case.

Portraits from the Exhibition

Exhibition Photographs

Exhibition Video by Kim Salac

At night I snuggle under the covers and pull up my weighted blanket to put it in just the right place. I tie a silk bandana over my hair to keep it fresh and my dog jumps up and curls into a little ball next to me. Sometimes I read, other nights I journal, and most nights I try to quell the whirlwind of ideas and thoughts in my mind to a soft breeze. Ocasionally, just as I start to drift off, I think:

"Am I safe in MY bed in MY room in MY house?"

At the center of "You can't compromise my joy." is this question and the unsettling thoughts that branch out from there. What trajectory set forth by the actions of others will impede the path that we've chosen for ourselves? Will we be blindsided and wrecked or merely caught in it's wake?

I hope that you've gotten a chance to sit with me amongst this fear and uncertainty.

When you're ready, stand up…

…and leave with joy.

Say this out loud: You can’t compromise my joy.