Imagine a place of peace and protection in a time of trauma. Deep within it: a serene, colorful, multi-tiered fountain. Wrapped by pink and magenta clouds. Sheltered by silk.
This sanctuary is shielded from the everyday, closed off from the noisy and the noisome by an 18-foot protective cocoon. That shell consists of hundreds of thousands of, yes, brightly painted artificial nails.
Actually, we don’t have to imagine it. You built it. You dropped this quiet oasis—fashioned from wildly colorful acrylic in shapes from toenails to talons—into one of the busiest districts in one of the busiest cities in the world. You called it “A Fountain for Survivors.”
Countless survivors—of the pandemic, of social upheaval, of personal ordeals—experienced it last fall in New York’s Time Square. This piece, the latest in the series of works you call “Fountains of Black Joy,” was your contribution to their healing process.
It is just one of many important commissions and public presentations of your much-admired art. Your oeuvre combines the disciplines of sculpture, architecture, writing and performance. It springs from a fantastic imagination grounded in the truth of what you see and the reality of what people experience.
Why this art? Why now? Your answer to The New York Times said it all: “We build monuments to winning wars and tragedies, but I need a monument to maintaining,” you said. “For some people, that is monumental.”
In recognition of your distinguished achievement in the arts, Williams College is proud to honor you with its Bicentennial Medal.