Your Privacy Choices
As described in our Privacy Policy, we collect personal information from your interactions with us and our website, including through cookies and similar technologies. We may also share this personal information with third parties, including advertising partners. We do this in order to show you ads on other websites that are more relevant to your interests and for other reasons outlined in our privacy policy.
Sharing of personal information for targeted advertising based on your interaction on different websites may be considered "sales", "sharing", or "targeted advertising" under certain U.S. state privacy laws. Depending on where you live, you may have the right to opt out of these activities. If you would like to exercise this opt-out right, please follow the instructions below.
If you visit our website with the Global Privacy Control opt-out preference signal enabled, depending on where you are, we will treat this as a request to opt-out of activity that may be considered a “sale” or “sharing” of personal information or other uses that may be considered targeted advertising for the device and browser you used to visit our website.
welcome to my table
Jane Adhi brings dignity to the ritual sacredness of having a table. In a world shaped by uncertainty, division, and instability, her work asks viewers to consider how connection is cultivated through the reach for a seat. With heavy strokes of oil, the table is still set, the chairs are still pulled, the candles are still lit, and the meal is still celebrated. As a self-taught artist with a background in engineering, Adhi takes an intentional approach to material memory, offering a contemporary lens on her Kenyan Luo heritage to examine longing.
Iweya
20x24 oil on canvas
Iweya means you have left me. There are 3 candles, but only 2 chairs.
A table holding the landscape of the relationship.
A third chair missing from the table and the third candle on the floor to show the bittersweet separation.
The two chairs are my parents. Left chair is my father with his high walls. The right chair, my mother without any boundaries.
The distance caused when one abusive parent creates a second.
The isolation felt by the child.
The distance so far from the table.
No longer able to commune with them.
Feeling even lower than the outlet.
