C E D A R H O U S E G A L L E R Y
S A V A N N A H , G E O R G I A
J U N E 14TH - J U L Y 5TH
2 0 2 4
E X O D U S
A N E X P L O R A T I O N O F T H E E M A N C I P A T I O N O F A D O L E S C E N C E
[ E K - S U H - D U H S ]
N O U N
A G O I N G O U T ; A M A S S D E P A R T U R E
For the little girl within me.
Thank you for your patience as I learned to listen.
Listen while you view...
The term “E X O D U S” translates to a going out; a mass departure. “E X O D U S”, as it relates to me, speaks to my own departure from childhood and movement into womanhood.
This body of work is intended to explore my most sacred and suppressed memories and express the fears I carry at my core. The child within me sits patiently as I find the answers to my own questions.
It is my hope that, through this work, we will meet with open arms, enfolded in one another, prepared for childhoods final curtain call.
P R O L O G U E
"T H E V U L N E R A B L E C H I L D"
There is a round room in a round house
with yellow walls, a grandfather clock,
and Precious Moments
figurines staring you down
wherever you go.
I remember white trim and
sandy carpet under my toes
in the house that built me,
the home that burned me.
They called me the “Vulnerable Child,”
a self-diagnosed burden.
At twenty-five, I am becoming a mirror
of my younger self:
My hair is still full of tangles;
reminiscent of the rats nests I built as a kid...
and I still chew my cheeks when I get nervous
like I did that night in
Baton Rouge.
E P I L O G U E
"I N T H E B A C K R O O M"
At the end of guileless lies a room that muzzles and leaves me blind.
The vignettes around my childhood memories have swallowed every answer; and I descry but only a circle of light stalking my vicious ogle.
At six years old, I dreamt of geese ripping out my hair.
A nightmare that took away my ability to sleep beneath bedsheets until myths of fertility and an ode to empowerment made themselves known.
They masticated and gnawed until my scalp was weak and my cloak of protection confiscated.
Extrication is cradled in my infantile palms but my emancipation from this expanse is my induction to my own inquietude.
I now drown in my own E X O D U S scouring for an entity to shepherd me out of this amnesiac-induced concealment.
But it is within this labyrinth - trapped by brick and mortar - that I fear the incubus’ - the one I fight and the one I feed.
A D D I T I O N A L W R I T T E N P I E C E S
"L A N C A S T E R B L V D"
What those mirrors saw —
not for me to know.
My hands on you,
his hands on him.
Seeping light and oozing guilt.
He —
No bigger than the yardstick
I used to flip the switch.
Acting out sick desires
in the
refraction of reflections.
Hands gliding into
uncharted territories
Marked “No Trespassing”.
I, the villain,
he, the sitting duck —
Once.
The air tasting of Listerine —
A sheen of baby powder on
countertops and toilet
tank covers.
Isolation on Lancaster
to shame
radiating from fingertips.
Shuddering at the “What ifs”.
Now —
A baby in your arms,
A woman in your bed
fleeing a line of lineage.
I —
A silent statistic.
"A F T E R S C H O O L S P E C I A L"
With my tail between my legs
you put me in a box
locked the gate
left me for dead.
Mirrors and moldy couches —
glass splinters —
hazardous choking —
the only things that remain.
Mosquito bites and peach fuzz —
Sour cravings that made
your thumbs tingle.
A fallen angel hidden beneath extermination.
Serpents strangling childish limbs —
a sad excuse for fighting back.
Too much for you,
not enough for myself.
Toes breaking as they grip the only
foundation they’ve ever known.
I handed you my heart and you
fed it to the dog under the table.
Like Lazarus, I will die again.
"L O U S I A N A L U L L A B Y"
A twin-sized bed —
a pallet on the floor.
He above —
us below.
A question asked —
an answer abused.
Do you?
No.
A voice that ricochets —
a prepubescent growl.
Praying the invasion will be quick —
accepting an empty ending.
Tiptoeing through
five and a half minute hallways.
Cicadas at dusk —
my Louisiana lullaby.
Seeping into damp bath mats
as sunrise squeezes through fiber glass.
Bathing my wounds in oceans
of salt as I wait for my wings to
take flight in water.
What a plot twist I was.
In her latest project, EXODUS, Robin Elise Maaya (b. 1998) dives head first into the depths of childhood memories - and the darkness that surrounds them - while shedding light on the complex and fragile nature of the human experience. The creation of this visual journey that delves into the profundity of family dynamics showcases Maaya’s resilient nature through her navigation of the shadows and the acceptance of a hidden light.
Robin is no stranger to vulnerability in her work, however. In previous bodies of work such as
Girls Ward: Left and Moulting, Maaya tackles deeply rooted traumas head-on in an attempt to move forward from the past, create beauty out of heartache, and help people see that they are not alone.
With a lifelong interest in the arts and over a decade of photographic experimentation, Maaya has found inspiration from a variety of mediums and materials that have further inspired and pushed her photographic capabilities. Using tactile objects and a variety of printing methods, Maaya has elevated her photographs to an entirely new level.
Through literal and extended self-portraiture, Maaya uses the body as a tool in order to reclaim autonomy over a vessel that once felt stolen. Her use of film photography and historic process printing aids in the execution of hauntingly beautiful and introspective pieces. With the recurrence of butterflies standing as a symbol of rebirth, transformation, and resurrection, Maaya is able to emblematically tell her story within chapters of ignorance, remembrance, and acceptance.
Through her artistic lens, Maaya invites us to see the world with new eyes and embrace the power of raw vulnerability and healing through the art of photography. EXODUS is a visual testament to the catharsis that is within the dissection of our most sacred and suppressed memories and the fears we carry at our core. With each photograph, she transports her viewers to a place where they can confront their own childhood memories and find solace in the beauty of not having all of the answers.
Photos by Kazimir Skye
Limited copies of the E X O D U S catalogue are available for purchase via the contact page.
Softcover - 164 Pages - Foreword by Jaclyn Cori Norman - $50 + Shipping
For titles, mediums, and pricing please click here
Please visit the "E X O D U S" page to view additional images and writing from the show as well as high resolution copies of photographs featured in the exhibit.
