Memories of my great-grandmother's home, located between Kinloch and Berkeley, MO, often revolve around family gatherings after church on Sundays and during various holidays. During these occasions, every part of the home came alive: older family members congregated on the front porch and around the kitchen table, while the younger ones played in the back rooms and the backyard. The sounds from these different spaces would crescendo as more and more people joined in one area or another. The sacred conversations would only be interrupted by the sounds of airplanes flying above. Situated less than a mile from St. Louis Lambert International Airport, the constant roar of commercial aircraft seeped into the home through crevices and loose floorboards.

For generations, my family learned to live with the nuisance of the airport's proximity; the roar of engines became as normal as the occasional hum of passing cars and the chatter of neighbors walking by. Yet, beneath these disruptive sounds lies a very real and troubling relationship between the international transportation hub and Missouri's first Black city. This relationship illustrates how the community was sacrificed to enhance the region's integration into a growing global transportation network—a haunting reality where Blackness has often been viewed as a burden to be eradicated for the sake of progress.

"The Spirit of St. Louis" is a three-channel video installation that visualizes Blackness in relation to modernity, capitalistic industry, and the subsequent erasure of Black spaces. In this work, I utilize a queer visual aesthetic to explore Blackness as a lived condition deeply rooted in care and preservation, especially in the face of global capitalist interests reshaping geographic spaces.

The piece takes its title from the aircraft flown by Charles Lindbergh during the first transatlantic flight. It aims to shed light on the region's historical significance in aviation while expanding upon scholarly work by Walter Johnson and Keona K. Irving, who examine how systems were created to further national—and even global—efforts to diminish the viability of communities standing in the way of westward expansion and financial growth.

This project emanates from a series of questions regarding the concept of Black Modernity: What is it? What does it look like? Is there a form of modernity that thoughtfully centers Blackness? How do we engage with the modernity we currently inhabit? My inquiries are informed by research focused on Kinloch, Missouri, the first Black city in the area, alongside Kevin Lynch’s "Image of the City," which provides a framework for urban planning, and Katherine McKittrick’s insights into Black Feminist Geographies as articulated in "Demonic Grounds."

Through this research, I have come to see the practices in Kinloch as a lens through which to understand the erosion of Black spaces in the industrious Midwest. Archival videos intertwine with a performance featuring Jamal, who sweeps the derelict spaces around Kinloch while wearing coveralls. This act of sweeping serves as a form of maintenance and caretaking for the space. The performance is significant as it highlights the roles of Black labor in constructing and sustaining Western economic interests while also acknowledging the impact of these interests on Black bodies and spaces.