Adora and Larissa discuss the arts

After Nanay’s Flesh An excerpt of a zine of Felt Pen Art and Words honouring Matriarchs, my Nanay (mother) for the love, life, courage and sacrifices she was able to provide for me and my siblings to have a better chance at life. Full zine will be officially released August 7th, 2025, her Birthday.

I felt compelled to be in the forest, my grand mother and great grand mother on my mother’s side speaking to me. Through my eyes, I felt that they were telling me to protect love and the lonely. 

This poem was sourced in Kingcome Inlet,BC and at an unknown river on the island of St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

An inter-dialogue with my Board about what it means to decolonise Board practices.

FIND MUTYA – sculpture – vision – sound – edit – stumbled into the moon on my wanders, recorded impromptu full moon phone clips on Dec 15/16th, 2024 JUNE PEREA – still & moving images – vision collaborator

Drums & Vocables Composer: Mshkiki Gitikaan Kwe Performers: Healing With Drums

Tribute for Mama Irva Roberts…

On managing activations of ancestral trauma: from the Mayan calendar to extra-dimensional downloads.

Arrivalling my Dida, my maternal grandmother.

This video is of a collaboration between Rosemary Georgeson, Jonathan Langdon and Julie Tamiko Manning that took place in September 2023, at The Final Steps, a monument on a pier in Kjipuktuk/Halifax, where each have ancestors that crossed this threshold between land and water.

from my work as a cofacilitator … musing on this concept and its metaphors, responding to some call within me to redefine it. that a container does not restrain or restrict. The soil is the container life grows from

A short video reflection on the shoreline in Nova Scotia.

Excerpt from solo performance I created with ALP sourced material and resilience.

Image of a seed cycle of life.

Whether it’s a missing Indigenous woman, a 2-Spirit, a trans person, a Palestinian baby buried alive, or a loved one, this song is to help you grieve and heal.

It begin with a blank page for the forgotten languages of where I came from. It ends with a blank page for the forgotten languages of the land where I settled. These are the languages that live within me.

Zainab and Larissa share some ideas.

Every seed has a source… And it reproduce new seeds like itself