What Village?

What Village?

There is a saying we’ve all heard: it takes a village to raise a child.

But I found myself asking—what happens when the village is missing or defunct?

In this piece, I focused on the portrait of a young girl, steady and present, surrounded by a simplified, abstracted neighborhood. At first glance, the environment feels familiar. But on closer inspection, something is off. The landscape is filled with churches—structure after structure—standing tall, visible, and established. There is also a liquor store. And among all of these buildings, only one house bears a message: “Help Us.”

That house becomes the quiet truth in the composition.

This work is my reflection on a contradiction I have witnessed too often—communities that are visibly struggling, yet saturated with institutions that claim to serve them. The question is not about faith itself, but about function. If the village exists, why is the cry for help still unanswered? If spiritual spaces are abundant, why does the foundation of the home remain in distress?

I am also exploring the idea of “spirits” in two forms—the Holy Ghost and the numbing relief found in liquor. Both are present in the same neighborhood, both offering escape, comfort, or transformation in their own ways. One promises salvation, the other temporary release. And yet, neither seems to fully resolve the conditions that leave that house calling out for help.

There is another layer in this piece that I did not plan, but deeply honor. I created this work alongside my five-year-old granddaughter. Without prompting, she added small hearts to both the churches and the liquor store. That gesture shifted everything. It became a reminder that love and attachment exist even within contradiction—that what sustains us and what harms us can live side by side in the same spaces we call home.

Her marks softened the critique, but also made it more honest.

Because the truth is, the “village” is not absent—it is complicated.

What Village? is not just a question. It is a confrontation, an observation, and an invitation to look closer at what we’ve normalized—and what we’ve neglected.