They come strong. But they come soft. They challenge and embrace notions about black women, femmes, art, music, feminism, protest, gender, life. They defy most social constructs because they are awake like that. E. Jane brings game to the art world. If you’re not ready for them, then you’re not ready to face life, to face truth.
Jane is E. Jane. They are Mhysa; they are the other half of SCRAATCH, digital art and sound project that includes lawd knows, aka Chukwumaa. E. Jane makes no real distinction between the three versions of self; as they say in NOPE: a manifesto, “I am a Black artist with multiple selves.” A genuine triple goddess, E. Jane is a gift. They float on clouds and come down like rain. One begins to wonder, what can’t E. Jane do? And then one is reminded of black girl magic.
E. Jane pushes themselves, pushes boundaries. They break and make molds of themselves and their alter-egos, of their divinities, of their spirits. The transformation is like witnessing a sunrise and sunset simultaneously; it’s that stunning. Should you take the time to be mindful, be still, rest, stare into the horizon –take it all in. You will be seeing art as a form as only E. Jane can does it. With a mission of softness, softer than anything you can imagine or have yet to experience, they pursue a path where black femme, queerness, and feminism intersect; at this crossing, a field of lavender so ready for QTWOC + POC to come rest, be safe, survive and persevere. They transform the image of black woman artist, they are beyond categories yet understand that society hasn’t quiet caught up with their altered consciousness.
This article isn’t about their accolades, although they are plentiful. From private shows to group events, E. Jane is no stranger to being on stage or being the stage. Voice and sound are the foundations of what they project. They use body as canvas, and their art collective brings a triad of voices. Listen closely and you can hear the voices of ancestors and the Afro-future selves that anticipate majestic birth, majesty, royal as any royal purple. Their art does manifesto, speaks against capitalism, calls out white supremacy. Their art gives voice to the millions of black bodies murdered, incarcerated, enslaved. Their art rises and rises and it’s like a balloon full of sound therapy, words, flowers, glitter, ribbons. Their art is ritual and selfie. Their art does not stop, does not quit and looks like it never will. Long live the manifestation of E. Jane.
From text to sound art to online installations in protest, E. Jane embodies so many energies. They are not one thing, one person, they are many and they like it that way. What captivates the viewer lies in E. Jane’s ability to tell story in multiple mediums for the artist who rejects and accepts classifications who grows into the blossoming iris. E. Jane is any and all flowers, lavender, purple. Even the sounds they produce feel purple, passionate, ripe with grape smudges.
Their Twitter and Instagram praise and protect black femme bodies, cover them like mothers and Mother Earth. Each selfie, each tweet, each post is a magic spell. Like from a sheer pastel purple curtain, they hide behind and come forth. She is the ghost of past and present and they will ghost into the future with the high bright intention of the seventh chakra, as violet as aubergines and amethyst impressions. They exist through empowerment and words that cut up white privilege, cut out innovative shapes, cut out beautiful paper dolls that lie down with her in lavender fields to sleep the sweet sleep of possibility.
“The avant-garde won’t save you, but the fugitives might.” – E. Jane / E. Scraaatch
WORDS BY: Jacklyn Janeksela