“Give Them Their Flowers” is a collective exhibition devoted to celebration and mourning: at the entrance to the show, synthetic flowers emerge from a wall and hang from the ceiling, while towards the back, the meditative installation of Loni Johnson The meal, 2023, features an altar with a statue of Yemaya, the Yoruba goddess of motherhood and the sea. On an adjacent wall are photographs of deceased gay black Miamians. Next to their photos are empty frames, spaces for those whose stories have never been told.
The title of the exhibit is taken from “Give Me My Flowers,” a 1965 ballad by the Reverend James Cleveland, which states that we honor our loved ones while they are still with us. The show represents years of research into Miami’s black queer history by Nadege Green, a writer and archivist who runs the online history platform Miami Dade Black and who co-organized the show with Marie Vickles, curator-in-residence of the Little Haiti Cultural Complex. Photographs of Miamians today are paired with text detailing aspects of their lives; for example, a portrait of local couple Frederica Dawson and Barbara Horne by Woosler Delisfort is tenderly framed – the sweetness of their embrace is only enhanced by their evident joy. “It’s a beautiful thing to love a woman,” Horne said, giving viewers a brief glimpse into their private lives. “At the time . . . you had to hide your identity, no matter how you feel, you know. Next to Vanessa Charlot’s photo of WNBA player Tracy Reid, the athlete reflects on his commitment to a woman “I see this should be shared and it’s powerful for me to be able to share here in my hometown.”
A section presenting archival documents, including a Miami Time newspaper clipping from 1951 describing the criminalization of two young black women in an “unnatural relationship” and vintage drag show programs – includes a selection of kaleidoscopic collages by Kendrick Daye that pay homage to queer icons who lived in Miami or honored the city with their presence. In a work from 2023, musician Sister Rosetta Tharpe emerges from a bloody sunset and glows under a shimmering halo. In another from this year, singer Phil Harris, aka Mother Harris, is pictured singing in front of a haunting lavender cosmos. This sense of reverence culminates in Johnson’s installation, but this quality is present throughout the exhibition, like a spirit of love.
