Category Archives: Current Exhibition

Current Exhibition

Dissolving Boundaries in Architectural Vestiges

This Is A Long Exposure from April 23 to May 21, 2025 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

Throughout my time as a docent at the Stamp Gallery, I have been fascinated by the gallery’s most notable architectural quirk: a short hallway ending in a door that never opens. Behind the wall which greets visitors as they enter the gallery lies this hallway, a subspace enclosed on three sides with a gap at the top allowing in ambient light from the primary space. This space exists in service of a door which must exist, yet is unused, like a vestigial organ of the building as a whole. The resultant alcove, often indirectly illuminated, serves as the perfect vessel for pieces which create artificial spaces. Permeation (2025) by Jeffery Hampshire is one such piece, making use of the auditory isolation and low light level to transport the viewer into a spatial imaginary.

Permeation (2025) by Jeffery Hampshire

Like an architectural womb, the nook insulates the viewer from the exhibition as a whole. Two large white curtains hang from the wall, obscuring the vestigial door behind the semi-transparent fabric. Behind this curtain is a projection of a scene through a window, alternating between the two sides of the virtual window. Along with each perspective is audio, the sounds of birds and nature when looking outside, and the sounds of plates, footsteps, and household movement when looking in. This audio corresponds to what is on the other side of the window, subverting the intuitive expectation. This subversion was not immediately obvious, yet reflects the unique role of the window to transport the user out of the space they are in. There is a distinctly peaceful quality to this piece; it feels like a moment frozen in time being viewed from an abstractly omniscient angle. The walls of the alcove shield the viewer from the ambient sounds of the building, transporting them into an imaginary space beyond a physical space.

Permeation (2025) by Jeffery Hampshire

Two projections appear: a crisp, defined image on the wall behind the curtain, and a diffuse, fuzzy image on the curtain itself. The projection takes on the materiality of the curtain and imbues it with a soft glow, giving the illusion of natural light through a window. Alluding to the title of the piece, it is not the direct projection which sells the atmosphere, but the radiance created by its permeation through the fabric. In the sterility of a gallery environment, softness in light is oftentimes lost in pursuit of clear visibility, yet the darkness of this liminal-vestigial vestibule harbors the luminous subtlety of Hampshire’s piece. The realism of soft light is present within the projection, too: the light sources in the virtual spaces themselves permeate through semi-translucent media. When looking in, a lampshade blunts the lightbulb, and the view out into nature is lit diffusely by sunlight through a tree. The window acts as the inversion of reality, a door which is visually impenetrable and functionally inaccessible. Jeffery Hampshire’s Permeation not only creates spaces, but portals into these spaces which transcend the limitations of the gallery setting.

Stamp Gallery is a modular space, whose layout and flow of movement changes dramatically with each exhibition. Moveable walls and track lights create a blank slate for each exhibition’s unique demands. Yet, the back micro-hallway remains constant, an inner space which surrounds and immerses the viewer. Permeation masterfully engages with this architectural oddity, elevating it beyond a simple video booth by harnessing the inherent liminality of the corridor. The boundary dissolves between real and imagined, inside and outside, light and shadow; Hampshire’s work illuminates the beautiful mundane of the window as a threshold. 

Current Exhibition

And I am Happy to Have Been Here Before: An Exploration of Repetition and Liminality in Julia Reising’s Linoleum Room

This is a long exposure from April 23 to May 21, 2025 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Rachel Schmid-James

Déjà vu is a phenomenon very few are unfamiliar with. The sensation that one has been somewhere or experienced something before often creates an uneasy feeling within its host. This disruption of thinking is abrupt and yet fleeting- leaving just as quickly as it came. In Julia Reising’s looping short film This is a Long Exposure, she combines prose and image to examine the overlap between movement, time, and the illusion of recall. Through the various frames of the video, Reising herself or objects such as a chair and lamp are seen interacting with a red linoleum box adorned with a tile-like pattern, a mobile corner. The piece then appears again in two inkjet photographs titled Linoleum Room Landscape One and Two, which are positioned as if in conversation with one another—each on opposing walls that converge to create a corner. Though the box is present, it is intangible—never appearing in its palpable form. Its absence highlights the idea of liminality: and poses the question of “how can we feel familiarity despite never being present with something?”

Reising in a still from This is a Long Exposure, 2025, video

Since Albert Einstein first theorized that time was relative and nonlinear, but rather conceptualized through culture, not much has changed in our own human interpretations of how it functions. The human brain struggles to understand time in any way other than moving in a straight line. Our cycles influence this: all living things are born and die, an eternal circle. In This is a Long Exposure, Julia Reising plays with both time and space- challenging the way we perceive it. She questions whether anything can ever truly be still in our dimensional universe, and how medium, environment, and cyclicality can be reconciled. 

The words that accompany the visual scenes of the video add a layer to the narrative Reising is building. It both starts and ends with Reising saying the phrase “And I am happy to have been here before,” intentionally inducing a sense of déjà vu within the viewer. She then comments on the foreign feeling the box activates, saying “unfamiliar. A door, a cornice moulding, a chair, a lamp.” She makes the viewer question their perception of domestic objects through their positioning in the corner, as well as our perception of where these objects fit into a space.

The diptych prints enhance this message. In one, the box is set against a green, leafy landscape, the shadow of the photographer and a branch visible and almost bleeding onto it. In the other, the box is the only object set against a stark, white wall- giving the opportunity for it to gain the viewer’s full attention. The simple backgrounds allow for reflection and for the feeling of intimacy with this inanimate object to continue to fester. By the end of the video and upon leaving the gallery, the viewer feels intrinsically tied to this intangible concept- a concept that encapsulates both the physical and the metaphorical. The ways we experience the metaphysical can be translated onto a smaller scale, as they have in this exhibition. 

Julia Reising, Linoleum Room Landscape (One and Two), 2025, inkjet print diptych

The reason humans are so rigid in our unwillingness to perceive time in a nonlinear way is that it disrupts our cultural creations of life and the universe. We find meaning in these systems and their strict nature, something so cemented that we don’t understand how to exist without them. Reising seeks to meld the familiar and unfamiliar into one, pushing the bounds of what is and what could be- that one can be somewhere and nowhere all at once, that we can truly accept the message “and I am happy to have been here before.”

Julia Reising’s work is included in This is a long exposure at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 23 to May 21, 2025

For more information on Julia Reising, visit https://www.juliareising.com/.

Artist Interviews, Current Exhibition

Why aren’t you here?

This is a long exposure from April 23 to May 12, 2025 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Trinitee Tatum

In the quiet between moments, between internal ideas to realized words and actions, Julia Reising listens. Her work— part sculpture, part language, wholly attentive— asks us to consider not just what we see, but what we sense in the periphery, what lingers in the edges of our minds and our environments. Through tile, text, wood, and gesture, she maps the topography of home, the self, memory, and meaning.

As the exhibition title suggests, This is a long exposure– a line taken from Reising’s personal writing– the stillness and contemplation within her work emerge from the act of waiting and watching closely, mirroring the slow revelation of detail in long exposure photography, where what is hidden at first gradually becomes visible. Thus, Reising moves at the speed of the careful capture of light. Her work dwells on the overlooked, the unnoticed. Radiators, wooden banisters, linoleum floors: these architectural fragments, often existing without much fanfare, become in her hands conduits for cultural signifiers and unspoken values. She is interested in how objects and ideas hold us and how we hold onto them; what we inherit not just instinctively, but also spatially. What we pass down through the corners of our homes, the language of domesticity, the invisible codes of belonging and power.

Still from This is a long exposure (2025), Video.

Tiles reappear throughout her work in This is a long exposure like punctuation. Cool, ordered, repeatable. It speaks to both industry and intimacy, of bathrooms and boardrooms, kitchens and clinics. In one piece, a red “linoleum” corner, a meticulous replica of beloved studio flooring now long gone, appears only in photographs and video— its physicality left out of the gallery space entirely. The absence is the point. What is not there feels expansive and loud, an omnipresent force making its presence known. It is, in part, about control. About the visibility of power, and the spaces it occupies silently. Her work is full of such inversions. Stillness brushes up with animation. Emptiness becomes form. Decay is immortal. 

Branch (Green and Blue) (2025), Branch, grout, ceramic tile, wood.

Reising molds and casts not just objects, but echoes, memories. Tree limbs and stumps contend with tiles, drawing precarious lines and alliances between nature and manufacture. The result is often eerie, liminal, familiar, yet unsettled. Memory, too, plays in this register. Not memory as in strictly nostalgia, but as structure. What stirs memory into being? How does context shape what we remember, and what quietly slips away? Reising uproots sentimentality and instead holds space for the complexity of recollection, contemplating the idea of self-affirmation and the existence of multiple truths. Memory here is not a return, but a reframing.

Exhibition View of Linoleum Room Landscape (One and Two) (2025) and Stump (2025).

Collaboration extends this inquiry outward, becoming a way of grappling with the in/visibility of power and control. It’s about the give and take, about depending on someone else to help you affirm what is reality, our perception of reality, our memory of reality. There is a deep humility and vulnerability in this. A willingness to admit that we do not shape the world alone, that our truths are numerous, that meaning is not fixed but fluid. Reising’s work makes room for this. For uncertainty, for multiplicity, for the poetry that happens when form and thought meet halfway.

As an architectural practitioner of feeling, Reising builds with absence as much as substance. Her materials speak, but they also listen. Her objects point to what is evident but not always seen. Her spaces remember. Her words extend. To view her work is to step into a kind of threshold, the in-between of the visible and the vanished. And it is there, in that hushed middle ground, that her art takes shape, not as a statement, but as an offering.

Julia Reising’s work is included in This is a long exposure at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 23 to May 12, 2025

For more information on Julia Reising, visit https://www.juliareising.com/.

Current Exhibition

Seeing Beyond the Glass: Reframing Materiality in Suspension

This is a long exposure from April 23 to May 21, 2025 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Olivia DiJulio 

When viewing and creating digital art, how can we see beyond the glass? With image-making, how can we elevate the flat nature of screens? Transcending the medium of the digital realm, This is a long exposure explores the methods and artistic revisions in reframing environments and reshaping the everyday with digital and analog means. 

Photography, videography, and digital projection are deeply integrated in this exhibit as central conveyors of time. These mediums are concentrated on generating and controlling visual phenomena. The camera and the lens have the power to capture light into a still image, and putting those images together in a sequence creates the motion picture. However, there is often a predictability in the traditional presentation of video feeds. In a hyper-digitized world, the novelty of screens has become an everyday interaction. As users of technology, there has been a standard expectation of clarity and instantaneous feedback.

Suspension by Jeffery Hampshire aims to reconfigure these notions of viewing into sources of motion, angles, and change. The piece features four monitors, each with custom acrylic castings to mount the transparent film. Both the acrylic mountings and film have a digital quality to them, almost replicating refresh effects of CRT TVs. The film itself was made using inkjet printing techniques, and is the highlight of this work. Each video feed features looping video feeds of suburban sights. There is something inherently human and man-made, featuring construction, architecture, a fallen e-bike, and a small forest clearing. The familiar sights combined with the unorthodox presentation create a unique composition within the genre of video installations.

Jeffery Hampsire, Suspension, 2025, 22” displays, transparency film, cast acrylic

Video art as a medium speaks to the very form of light. In combination with film and physical optics, Hampshire works by rebending, refracting, and changing our perspective of reality. Rather than just isolating the feed, the negative and positive space created with the film forms new dimensions to the piece. The contrast between the video feed and the transparent film seeks to form optical tension. The literal layering of images also speaks to the processes of filmmaking and digital art creation. Digital artists often work in layers to have control over the independent aspects of the piece. Layers are meant to be invisible, unnoticed, and embedded into an artwork. However, Suspension turns this workflow into a tangible outcome, by refracting and distorting the video feed below.  

Quite fully, there is a visual hierarchy at play. The physical barriers and materiality of the film used in Suspension challenge the viewer to reconsider the ways we perceive the world. The film, being transparent, is not necessarily erasing what is there, but recontextualizing it into an ever changing viewing experience. It is more so an interruption rather than a deletion. You will never get the full image when looking at the piece head-on, and viewers are encouraged to move and find the spaces between the video and material. 

Hampshire challenges the traditional linearity of observing video installations by adding additional visual depth to his work. Exploring the transformative nature of video, he promotes the ideals of the ever changing states of reality. Our environments will never be static, and neither is the dynamic form of video and multimedia works. Rather, there is always motion in the perceived stillness of the mundane. Suspension emphasizes the role of physical materials in shaping how we understand time and imagery. The physical materials remind us that what we see can always be filtered by tools and contexts. Through this lens, Hampshire opens up a broader conversation about the optics of perception, questioning not just what we see, but how we can reconsider the driving factors of attention and perception in the world around us.

Jeffery Hampshire and Julia Reising’s work is included in This is a long exposure at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 23 to May 21. For more information on these artists, find them at https://www.instagram.com/j.hampshire_art/ and https://www.juliareising.com. For more information on This is a long exposure and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery.

Current Exhibition

Cyclicality And GIS Structuring In Jeffery Hampshire’s Orientation

This Is A Long Exposure from April 23rd to May 12th, 2025, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by James Cho

Pinned to the front wall that greets visitors entering the STAMP Gallery are dozens of photos taken by Jeffery Hampshire in print, film, or as projections that comprise Orientation (2025). Another set of photographs in print and film which are stapled together in a triangle, and another film-printed photo of power lines oriented in a tube-like composition sit on a podium in front of the wall. Together, they act as a representation of the cyclical relationship between humans and nature, and by extension, memories of space and place. 

Hampshire places a lot of emphasis on the centrality of travel in Orientation. For humans, pictures of roads, trash that is waiting to be collected, an abandoned bike, and books from a Little Free Library represent the transition through the space between to points. For nature, pictures of bike trails, trees, overgrowth, and rocky paths showcase the other side of the cycle. Together, they create a dynamic in which trash travels between humans who create it and nature, before presumably returning to humans in the form of recycled items, lest it be abandoned like the abandoned bike or lone trash can under a tree. 

Jeffery Hampshire, Orientation, 2025. Inkjet print, transparency film, projection. Photo Credit: James Cho

Furthermore, Hampshire adds more depth to his take on travel in relation to space and place by using multiple mediums to display the photos. Namely, the pictures that are physically nailed to the wall tell the story of the connection between human trash and nature, as well as the space between them. Meanwhile, the photos printed onto film represent the deterioration of memory about that cycle. As one travels from place to place, the time that it takes to travel across the space between two points results in a slow loss of memory of these physical places. Hence, the film represents memories of places that are beginning to be lost to time, as seen in how some of there are empty spaces between the print, film, and projected photos where additional photos (i.e. memories) of places might have once existed. 

How then, might we maintain these memories? How can we lessen the impact that space has on “understood memory” and the memories that Hampshire has pinned to the gallery’s walls? Through the projected photos. More specifically, through the medium that they represent: Geographic Information Systems (GIS). GIS software, in short, is a field where hardware and software capture, store, and visualise geographic data. Images of specific places are captured through Light Detection and Ranging devices (LiDAR) like mounted cameras, that are used to scan different points around a space to recreate 3D rendered structures on a computer. In Orientation’s case, this means capturing different points along the biking trail that Hampshire travels along. Things like power poles, biking and pedestrian signs, and sewage tunnels that are either on or visible from the biking trail are captured in this way and then projected onto the wall. Thus, Hampshire implies that though we may lose our memories, or attempt to store imitations of them in film as a form of reconstructed memories, by collecting geographic data we can maintain near-exact replicas of our memories to better understand them.

This expression of the distance between points in a cycle and how memories of them are retained in works like Orientation embodies the idea of playing with “still life in motion”. The pictures, whatever their medium may be, reinforce the notion that time is the “keystone” needed for their production while also being the factor that leads to the deterioration of memory. Hampshire’s work offers three new ways in which our environments are reconstructed and preserved through images: through inkjet-printed photos, film, and GIS reconstructions, which are projected onto a surface or screen. Altogether, Orientation can be understood as a culmination of A Long Exposure, encapsulating the prolonged and evolving interaction between people and their environments over time.

Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

Unlocking Stories Beyond: The Open Narratives of Schroeder Cherry’s Mixed Media Art

Written by Jasjot Kaur

How do unwanted objects, sign language, and keys become a language that transcends the frames of an artwork, inviting reflection on personal stories? Schroeder Cherry’s art is not about prescribing a single narrative but about offering an open-ended conversation that resonates with those willing to pause, observe, and engage. His work speaks beyond the African diaspora, inviting all viewers to find meaning within the layers of repurposed materials, folklore, and memory.

Cherry’s mixed-media assemblages on wood embrace storytelling inspired by travel, history, and real and reimagined events. His pieces hold multiple interpretations.  Cherry’s use of sign language and alphabet, spelling out specific words that connect to the work’s title, acts as both a riddle and a guide, nudging viewers toward understanding the arts concept without dictating what they should see. The harmony of pictorial and materials makes his art into a language medium that transcends words, across the stories of the African diaspora allowing each individual to bring their own lived experiences and an opportunity to learn from another.

One of the most striking elements in Cherry’s art is using keys. They symbolize access—both the power to lock and to unlock. “Everybody I know has at least one key they’ve had for more than a year and don’t know what it belongs to,” Cherry reflects. A key, seemingly insignificant in isolation, gains new life within his compositions, provoking curiosity and introspection. Keys are one of those overlooked items that are a part of our everyday lives, but we do not realize their importance unless we lose it. It prompts the question: What doors, both literal and metaphorical, have we left locked or forgotten? What memories remain suppressed but, if lost, would trouble us? What stories, memories, and emotions, though left behind in the past, still haunt us?

His mixed media art encourages a slow engagement—something rare in a fast-paced world—and urges viewers to pause, observe, and reflect. Recently,  I witnessed a family with young children embodying this philosophy. While looking at the Adam and Eve Enter the Garden 2024 piece, the parents encouraged their children to share what they saw and thought and how they might create something similar. The kids gravitated toward the colors, the recognizable objects like shells and the sparkle of the beads, and the sense of playfulness—all of which sparked curiosity and storytelling. One kid said it reminded them of upcycling, to which the parents suggested working on something similar at home. The parents realized they had lost touch with the arts and crafts activities they used to enjoy in their home garage—a special way they bonded with their children. Found materials in Cherry’s art serve as personal and collective memory touchstones. For one family, the shells and beads recalled childhood arts and crafts, summer beach days, and family traditions. The materials transcend as they may symbolize something deeply personal—an object tied to a specific moment or feeling.

By repurposing commonly found yet unused materials like wood, hardware, locks, and other household objects, Cherry creates sculptural paintings that feel introspective and transcend beyond the frames. There is a sense of familiarity yet mystery—a push and pull between the recognizable and the unknown. His background in puppetry and painting allows him to blur the lines between functional and non-functional forms, placing viewers at a crossroads. What is this material for? What is this story, and whose story is it? Do I have a role to play in it? 

Cherry often receives keys from people who visit his exhibitions—an exchange of objects that carry unknown pasts. For those who stop to look closely, the sensory experience of his work can unlock memories, traumas, beliefs, and fears hidden within themselves. His boundless frames extend beyond the canvas, reaching many people who belong to the story, inviting them to add their chapters.

Everyone has a story—a unique, incomplete story—one that is constantly unfolding.

Next time you visit Schroeder Cherry’s exhibition, take a moment. Look closely. Ask questions. What stories will you uncover?

Schroeder Cherry’s work is included in Open Ended Narratives: at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from February 18 to April 5, 2025. For more information on Schroeder Cherry’s work, visit https://bakerartist.org/portfolios/schroedercherry.  For more information on Open Ended Narratives: and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery.

Current Exhibition

The Aesthetic of Innocence

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Open Ended Narratives: Mixed Media Assemblages on Wood by Schroeder Cherry from February 18 to April 5, 2025 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Trinitee Tatum

For a fleeting moment, opening the wooden doors to Schroeder Cherry’s Adam and Eve Enter the Garden (2024) evokes the sensation of stepping into an old church, where, upon looking up, the heavens reveal angels and saints in divine splendor. Cherubs, plump, childlike, and almost always white, fill the walls and domes, shooting arrows, dancing, and playing tiny instruments. They have long symbolized love, purity, and divine favor. Yet, their racial uniformity, often unnoticed, subtly reinforces whiteness as synonymous with innocence– an aesthetic tradition ingrained over millennia.

Adam and Eve Enter the Garden (2024), Mixed media on wood.

At first glance, Adam and Eve Enter the Garden does not overtly replicate this imagery. However, through this work, Cherry establishes a recurring engagement with religious iconography throughout the exhibition. In dialogue with other works, it prompts viewers to interrogate the aesthetics of innocence: who is afforded it, and at whose expense.

Future Voter Series, Cute to Criminal (2023), Mixed media on wood.

Positioned alongside Adam and Eve Enter the Garden, Future Voter Series: Cute to Criminal (2023) more directly confronts the implicit right to cuteness and innocence. Centered around a portrait of a young Black boy, Cherry employs symbols of keys, cards, and a clock to evoke themes of access, play, and time. The boy’s youth, once deemed “cute,” is slipping away as time ticks forward. Here, Cherry forces viewers into a moment of reckoning, compelling them to meet the boy’s gaze and answer his pleading question: At what age do I go from Cute to Criminal?

Angel Sconce #15 for 2 Candles (2025), Mixed media on wood.

Completing this visual and thematic trinity, Angel Sconce #15 for 2 Candles (2025), adjacent to the previous works, confronts the violent erasure of Blackness in both sacred and secular spaces. The figure, though visibly older than the boy in Future Voter Series: Cute to Criminal, remains too young to have died of natural causes. His vibrant royal purple halo and wings contrast sharply with the unspoken tragedy of his loss, prompting viewers to ask who, or what, took his life. Cherry’s sconces, designed to carry light both literally and symbolically, illuminate the systemic omission of Blackness from spaces of sanctity. Often found in family and home altars, these objects serve as sites of remembrance, honoring the departed with photographs, flowers, candles, and offerings. In this context, the sconce functions as both a memorial and a challenge to dominant narratives of purity and innocence.

Church altars, historically adorned with white angelic figures, have not only been places of worship but also instruments of religious and social hierarchy, where whiteness is positioned as pure, and thus superior. The racialized aesthetics of innocence, reinforced through sacred art and colonial missionary work, further entrenched these exclusionary structures. Yet, while churches have historically upheld these ideologies, they have also been sites of resistance. Many churches and religious leaders have actively challenged these racial hierarchies, transforming places of worship into spaces of activism, upliftment, and radical inclusion.

Cherry’s work lays bare these erasures, challenging viewers to reckon with the deeper implications of racialized innocence and exclusion. Through his assemblages, he exposes the historical frameworks that have dictated who is seen, who is protected, and who is rendered invisible. Yet, his work is not just about absence; it is also about reclamation. By inserting Black figures into spaces from which they have long been excluded, Cherry redefines the visual language of sanctity, innocence, and remembrance. His work urges us to question the narratives we inherit and, more importantly, to imagine new ones, ones that acknowledge, honor, and illuminate the lives too often overlooked.

Open Ended Narratives: Mixed Media Assemblages on Wood by Schroeder Cherry is exhibited at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from February 18 to April 5, 2025. 

For more information on Schroeder Cherry, visit https://www.instagram.com/schroeder.cherry/. 

Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

The Sweetness of Liberation: Reclamation of the Watermelon as a Symbol of Autonomy in Schroeder Cherry’s Open Ended Narratives


Open Ended Narratives from February 18th to April 5th, 2025, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Rachel Schmid-James

Just as the cogs of a machine must fit together seamlessly to work, an exhibition must build and mesh into something greater than the individual pieces. In Schroeder Cherry’s current show, Open Ended Narratives, the themes emerge like threads, twisting together to create a fluid experience. While certain motifs show up consistently throughout pieces, the Baltimore-based artist is adamant that he has no interest in telling one story. “There is no one story; viewers bring their own experiences to each piece,” Cherry writes in his artist statement. 

The idea that an artist has one message they are attempting to convey is simplistic and confining, as art can mean many things to different people. However, this is not to say that these thematic elements have no context outside of the viewer’s own. The image of the watermelon pops up more than seventeen times throughout the works displayed at the gallery. If the viewer has no knowledge of the historical context Cherry is referencing, the significance of the symbol may go unnoticed. 

The watermelon stereotype first emerged in the Southern United States in the 1860s, shortly after the end of the Civil War and the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. Former enslavers and Confederate sympathizers were flailing to combat the beginnings of the Reconstruction era, and observing that many formerly enslaved people were growing watermelons on their farms for profit, created a caricature to represent African Americans as immature and dirty. Over time this farce of a statement worked its way into generations of people, becoming a belief that many learned casually through subliminal messages. It appeared in caricatures on children’s television shows and other representations of minstrelsy. In contemporary history, politicians continue to push this stereotype among others to draw in racist supporters.

Unfortunately, the original meaning of the watermelon has become tainted with these narratives, but the African diaspora has worked to restore its original meaning in the community. Before white supremacists got their hands on the symbol of the watermelon, it stood as a message of liberation and autonomy for formerly enslaved individuals in the South. Cherry’s work reclaims the image, raising it into idolatry, a symbol of resistance, while also planting the seeds for a more positive interpretation of it for current and future Black children. 

In Cherry’s piece Twins (Future Voter Series), the watermelon takes the form of the two young girls’ swimsuits. They stand with their arms around each other, beaming at an invisible camera. They are proud of their swimsuits, making no effort to hide and instead exuding excitement over being seen in them. While each viewer is invited to add their own details to these girls’ stories, it cannot be said that they yet understand the burden of the stereotype. They become a symbol of hope for the present, that we may someday completely filter out the muddled narrative created by hate, and return it to its revolutionary roots.

Schroeder Cherry, Future Voters #12, Twins, 2021, mixed media on wood.

The question of divinity is also raised in Cherry’s wall sconce pieces, which depict Black figures as one of the holiest symbols in Christianity: angels. Combining this with the symbol of the watermelon, most notably in the piece Angel Sconce #11, Red Wings, which features the image prominently throughout. Angels are also a symbol with a racist past, often depicting the ideals of whiteness as divine and darker skin as evil. By synthesizing these broader motifs into a piece that seems to reach outward with its curling pieces and a serious face that stares back at you, Cherry continues to weave together strings that connect the ideas of the past and present to those of the future. 

Schroeder Cherry, Angel Sconce #11, Red Wings, 2024, mixed media on wood.

Through these works, Cherry takes the history of a harmful stereotype into his hands and melds it into a poetic emblem of joy for the African diaspora. These symbols contribute to the building of a foundation for the narratives that Cherry threads the needle for but never ties off the stitch. 

Current Exhibition

Framing the Narrative: Access, Memory, and Identity in Schroeder Cherry’s Art

Open Ended Narratives from February 18th to April 5th, 2025, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Noa Nelson

Schroeder Cherry’s mixed-media assemblages do more than capture a moment in time—they interrogate the ways history, culture, and personal experience intersect. Using found objects like keys, locks, playing cards, and discarded picture frames, Cherry constructs layered compositions that question who has access to spaces, how identity is framed by society, and what stories are remembered or erased. His work invites viewers to engage actively, bringing their own interpretations and histories into the narrative.

Traditionally, frames act as boundaries, defining the edges of an image and enclosing it within a fixed space. But in Cherry’s work, frames are more than decorative—they become part of the story. They act as textured, layered elements that shape how we move through an image, drawing attention to what is included, what is left out, and how we are meant to engage with the subject matter.

Shroeder Cherry, Salvador Series #8, Desejar (Wish), 2024. Mixed media on wood; 32 x 24 inches. Photo Credit: Júlia Sodré

Cherry often acquires frames from a framer friend, repurposing discarded samples and integrating them into his work. This use of found materials mirrors the larger themes of his assemblages: history is not static, and objects—like stories—carry meaning beyond their intended function. His frames don’t just enclose a narrative, they challenge viewers to consider how images are constructed and how context shapes perception.

One of Cherry’s recurring themes is the adultification of Black children—the societal tendency to perceive Black youth as older, less innocent, and more responsible for their actions than their 

white peers. His work forces us to confront the unsettling question: At what age does a Black child transition from being seen as a child to being perceived as a threat?

This question is particularly poignant when viewed through Cherry’s layered, textured compositions. His frames become both a protective border and a confining structure, much like the ways society simultaneously scrutinizes and controls Black bodies. By incorporating objects like playing cards—a metaphor for the unpredictability of life and the unequal hands dealt to individuals—Cherry highlights the systemic biases that dictate how Black children are viewed and treated in different spaces.

Cherry’s travels, particularly to Salvador, Brazil, have deeply influenced his work. As home to the largest population of African diaspora outside of Africa, Salvador’s history is inseparable from colonialism, the transatlantic slave trade, and the ongoing complexities of race and identity.

Shroeder Cherry, Salvador Series #2, Four Drummers, 2024. Mixed media on wood; 33 x 32.5 inches. Photo Credit: Júlia Sodré

In his work, Cherry integrates symbols of access—keys and locks—to question who is permitted entry into certain spaces and who is kept out. A small bucket at his desk collects donated materials, later incorporated into his pieces, reinforcing the idea that history is built from what is left behind. His depictions of barbershops—intimate spaces of community and vulnerability—highlight places where Black men find both refuge and connection. The act of allowing another man to hold a razor to one’s throat speaks to an unspoken trust, a contrast to the often hyper-policed existence of Black men in public spaces.

Cherry’s use of playing cards underscores the unpredictability of life and the systemic structures that dictate opportunity. Cards hold different values depending on the game, just as people’s worth is often measured differently based on race, class, and circumstance. His works challenge viewers to consider: What do you do with the hand you’re dealt in life?

Similarly, keys function as a powerful metaphor for access and exclusion. Keys open doors, but they also lock them. They represent opportunity, security, and control—who gets to enter, who is kept out, and what barriers exist between individuals and the spaces they seek to inhabit. People form deep attachments to their keys, a subconscious acknowledgment of their importance in navigating daily life. By incorporating these objects into his work, Cherry asks us to consider the power structures that determine who holds the keys to opportunity and who remains locked out.

Shroeder Cherry, Salvador Series #3, Pausa, 2024. Mixed media on wood; 29 x 36 inches. Photo Credit: Júlia Sodré

Schroeder Cherry’s work is deeply layered, both visually and conceptually. His art challenges the ways identity is framed—how history, access, and systemic biases shape the experiences of Black communities. Through his use of mixed media, he reframes symbols often associated with exclusion, reclaiming them as tools of empowerment and storytelling.

Just as life unfolds in unpredictable chapters, Cherry’s work resists neat conclusions. His compositions remain open-ended, inviting viewers to bring their own stories, experiences, and interpretations into the frame. And in doing so, he reminds us that narratives are never static—they are constructed, challenged, and reframed with each new perspective.

Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

Unlocking Narratives: Exploring Schroeder Cherry’s Barbershop Series

Written by Soeun Kim

While people are often drawn to noticeably ostentatious and obtrusive works that grab their attention right away, there is an undeniable pull toward the everyday familiar spaces and moments that feel deeply personal and universally relatable. Even from outside the Stamp Gallery, Schroeder Cherry’s exhibition Open Ended Narratives immediately captures the attention with its shimmering keys, locks, and metal elements. While Cherry intended to symbolize them as tools of access, these keys, reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumb trail, acting as symbolic markers and guiding visitors through Cherry’s thought-provoking works. These objects invite the viewer to piece together a personal narrative, intertwining connections between seemingly disparate elements of the exhibition. Like unlocking hidden layers of meaning, these objects encourage visitors to follow the visual and thematic threads throughout the gallery.

Upon entering the exhibition space, visitors are immersed in an array of distinct themes and series from Cherry’s collection, with the Barber Shop Series standing out as a particularly compelling piece of the narrative puzzle. This series, rich in both visuality and concept, extends beyond the literal barbershop setting, opening conversations on broader social and political themes. Everyday objects, such as playing cards and mirrors, prompt viewers to pause, reflect, and construct their own interpretations. How do communal spaces, like barbershops and hair salons, serve as cultural hubs for storytelling, social bonding, and the exchange of perspectives? And how does Cherry establish such a personal connection with the viewer through his intricate use of found objects?

Cherry’s artistic philosophy resonates deeply with my own approach to design—drawing inspiration from the everyday, the familiar, and the overlooked. The Barber Shop Series especially evokes a sense of nostalgia, curiosity, and warmth. Through this series, Cherry highlights the role of the Black barbershops as more than grooming spaces. They are social sites where Black men are gathered to exchange ideas, discuss social issues and build connections among their community. These spaces serve as the cultural cornerstone that extend beyond the barbershop. Before moving to America in fifth grade, one of my most familiar routines was accompanying my grandmother to her hair salon appointments. There, under the warmth of perm heat machines, neighborhood women gathered to chat and exchange everything from small talk to the biggest gossip in town. Though I often didn’t understand the full scope of their conversations, I instinctively recognized the salon as more than a place for hairstyling. It was a social hub, a space for connection, conversation, and shared experiences, even among strangers. When I first encountered Barber Shop Series #35, Shoot, I felt as if a book in my mind had flipped open to a long-forgotten chapter of my life—young memories that had quietly lingered in the back of my mind. It’s remarkable how art has the power to resurrect moments we never consciously preserved, bringing buried memories back to the surface.

While we may never fully know all of the meanings these objects have for Cherry, what remains clear is his ability to guide viewers toward personal meaning-making. In exploring the Barber Shop Series, I found that my way of “unlocking the locks” was reconnecting with deep, formative memories—realizing just how much emotion and significance are embedded in the everyday. Through nostalgia, curiosity, and artistic deliberation, ordinary spaces become extraordinary, revealing new layers of personal and collective history.

Visit our Stamp Gallery and explore Cherry’s works firsthand. As you move through the exhibition, consider this: What is your key to the locks? What memories, emotions, or connections do these pieces unlock for you? Art has a way of revealing stories we may not have realized we carried—what story will you uncover?