For nearly three decades, Chakaia Booker has recycled rubber tires, manhandling them into fierce totems that suggest African objects while also referring to issues of contemporary African American identity and culture, gender and environmentalism. Booker chose tires because of their presence in the landscape, not only when in use, but when abandoned, congregating in mounds like tumbleweeds driven together by the wind. Using the raw but recognizable materials, Booker is able to make her works look like the skin of animals, or evoke the ancient objects of war or healing.
In Holla, a proud “figure” struts the street, her swirling layers of plumage catching the wind as it ruffles her skirt. Holla is shorthand for “holler,” or calling out, as if Booker’s bird woman is starting a parade.
For nearly three decades, Chakaia Booker has recycled rubber tires, manhandling them into fierce totems that suggest African objects while also referring to issues of contemporary African American identity and culture, gender and environmentalism. Booker chose tires because of their presence in the landscape, not only when in use, but when abandoned, congregating in mounds like tumbleweeds driven together by the wind. Using the raw but recognizable materials, Booker is able to make her works look like the skin of animals, or evoke the ancient objects of war or healing.
In Holla, a proud “figure” struts the street, her swirling layers of plumage catching the wind as it ruffles her skirt. Holla is shorthand for “holler,” or calling out, as if Booker’s bird woman is starting a parade.
For nearly three decades, Chakaia Booker has recycled rubber tires, manhandling them into fierce totems that suggest African objects while also referring to issues of contemporary African American identity and culture, gender and environmentalism. Booker chose tires because of their presence in the landscape, not only when in use, but when abandoned, congregating in mounds like tumbleweeds driven together by the wind. Using the raw but recognizable materials, Booker is able to make her works look like the skin of animals, or evoke the ancient objects of war or healing.
In Holla, a proud “figure” struts the street, her swirling layers of plumage catching the wind as it ruffles her skirt. Holla is shorthand for “holler,” or calling out, as if Booker’s bird woman is starting a parade.
