âMy queer childhood wasnât spent drawing hearts in the margins of textbooks. It was spent being hurt. Queers often donât grow up singing love songs. To me, they seemed abstractions until I met someone who treated me so nice that I sometimes want to cry thinking about how they could possibly be so kind to me. Iâm 28, and for the first time in my life â after the hell Iâve gone through â Iâm in love. I spent this month building a queer black love song as beautiful, messy, and wild as I am. I want this space to lift away the misogyny of an art world so obsessed with seriousness and solidity that it forgets the power of a good meal, a tender embrace, or the joy of being given a rose. I want to slow down again. I want to get to know somebody. I want to spend hours with someone and get to know their touch. The gallery needs love. The institution needs love. A riverâs caress will melt a mountain. Love will melt the stones of our society.â
â Zeelie Brown