What History Forgets (3/10)

Full of Life, Now.

FULL of life, now, compact, visible,

I forty years old the Eighty-third Year of the States,

To one a century hence, or any number of centuries hence,

To you, yet unborn, these, seeking you.

When you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible;

Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my poems, seeking me;

Fancying how happy you were, if I could be with you, and become your comrade;

Be it as if I were with you. (Be not too certain but I am now with you.)

- Walt Whitman

This series celebrates the unjustifiably erased vanguard activists of the Civil Rights Movement. In this piece, the artist contrasts Whitman's timeless sympathy with the coldhearted official erasure of a person's identity and history by a government.

Fractal forms in this image hold dual meaning for the artist. First, the shape resembles mountains and valleys, echoing Martin Luther King, Jr.:

With current events (Transgender drivers' licenses revoked, Transgender restroom laws), we can see that civil rights are being whittled away by the current United States regime. These acts remind  the artist of the poem, "First They Came" by Martin Niemöller. This forces the question, "Who is next?"

Second, the fractal form vaguely resembles the abaxial view of the knuckles of an extended right hand. The human hand can represent agency, reminding the viewer to consider their relationship to the Civil Rights Movement's ideals and its continued advancement, as demonstrated by Whitman's exhortation to comradeship and the actions of Generation Fabulous.