Darius Smith ​

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What is a stain you cannot scrub out, like spaghetti sauce absorbed into plastic tupperware? 

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I explore the residue of inherited faith and the cultural rituals embedded in domestic life. Specifically, I examine the figure of "white Jesus" as an heirloom not chosen but passed down, one that has functioned simultaneously as a wound and comfort, as isolation and belonging, as the familiar warmth of a mother's presence.

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My work asks how belief systems are absorbed into the body and the home before we have language for them, and what it means to carry that mark into adulthood. The domestic space becomes both an archive and an inheritance: a place where identity, religion, and community are quietly transmitted through objects, habits, and images.

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What does your home mean without you in it?

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