Revival Taste Collective
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Revival is…

A living, breathing journal documenting my journey to reframe and uplift black food narratives - while preserving my families rich history in Agriculture and food. It is also made up of the food, art, and stories contributed by the elders in and around my community.

This journal is made possible by folks like my Great-Uncle Andrew Lee. He has patiently shared his growing practices, recipes, art, and most importantly our family’s oral history - broadening my understanding of who we be and from whom we’ve come.

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Donate to the forward movement of these stories.

These films, journal entries, exhibitions and dinners are made possible by the people who understand the importance of regaining our self/community sufficiency. Thank you in advance for your donation!!

This journal is dedicated to those with gardens in their yards, protected by tin pans in the wind. Those who dressed bare trees with glass bottles to bring the rain. Those who swept their yards, dressed their lawns in wheels, and hanged their clothes from a line held up by wood slowly rotted by the rain. Those who collect things that others won’t seek out as valuable until deemed as such by folks with money. I see you ,and I thank you. Because you all were the Artists that helped me see me. Your hand carved walking sticks will be mocked and reproduced by those that don’t understand boundaries and what the word sacred really means. To the seasonal fruit wine and beer crafters, brandy makers who use steels passed down from their mothers and fathers who made and sold liquor in a different time. Putting it in the hands of those dancing in the juke or drinking to mourn the heartache of the rural south, that has treated us without the care and love we deserve. May I honor your techniques, traditions, and stories with the work that I produce. I do this so that we can always remember how, why, and most importantly who. I do this in my leisure to acknowledge that you did this to survive. I honor the time I’ve spent in your kitchens, yards, living rooms, dining room tables, counters and the moments on your porch that I waited in anticipation for you to open the door to my curious sometimes naive youth.