Widline Cadet. Self-portrait, courtesy of the artist.  Widline Cadet's photographs, many of which picture Black women, compose their own visual poetry. The secret language they speak whispers in the symbolic devices of iconography, repetition, pattern and palette. Some of Cadet’s subjects, often caught mid-gesture, are suspended in the uncanny apprehension of imminent action. In one […]

 Widline Cadet. Self-portrait, courtesy of the artist.  Widline Cadet's photographs, many of which picture Black women, compose their own visual poetry. The secret language they

WORDS

WORDS

DATE:

DATE

SHARE

Twitter
LinkedIn
Facebook
Email

SHARE

Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn
Email

 

Widline Cadet. Self-portrait, courtesy of the artist.
Widline Cadet. Self-portrait, courtesy of the artist.

 

Widline Cadet's photographs, many of which picture Black women, compose their own visual poetry. The secret language they speak whispers in the symbolic devices of iconography, repetition, pattern and palette. Some of Cadet’s subjects, often caught mid-gesture, are suspended in the uncanny apprehension of imminent action. In one photograph from her ongoing series, Seremoni Disparisyon (Ritual [Dis]Appearance), two women in matching red gingham dresses bend in unison before a waxed gingham tablecloth, hung as a backdrop against a bright green lawn. The opaque sky suggests that it is night, while a beaming frontal light source indicates the camera’s flash; the resulting scene, as is often true of Cadet’s photographs, is immediately perplexing, loaded with surreal allusion. For this body of work in particular, Cadet manipulates her images, using layers and mirroring to express literally the intersectionality and complexity of diasporic experience.

widline cadet

Cadet was born in Haiti and, in 2002, immigrated to New York City, where she still lives. An early aspiration was to become an animator—she was intrigued by the otherworldly visuals of the mangas she was reading at the time—but her drawing practice eventually gave way to other forms of creative and personal exploration, most importantly photography. But Cadet’s work seems to dissect the photograph as a mode of recording space, time or personhood, welcoming instead a murkier set of truths in which photographic images are as compositional as a sketch or painting. This same set of possibilities, or confines, can be applied to the construction of identity, particularly to the spillage produced by colonialism, migration and the discrepancies between memory and history—all topics that weigh heavily on Cadet’s considerations of what it means to be Haitian in the United States. “My work is for me, first and foremost,” Cadet says. “But it’s also for others. I know I feel a lot of joy when I make something and others see themselves or their experiences reflected in it. I’m talking about other Black womxn in particular, Black immigrants from the Caribbean and beyond and Black people in general, who exist at the intersections of so many identities.”

Generic selectors
Exact matches only
Search in title
Search in content
Post Type Selectors

Not a Doomscroll. A Deep Dive.

Subscribe now for print that informs, inspires, and doesn’t get lost in the feed.

You’ve almost hit your limit.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

GET ACCESS

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want more in your life?

For less than the price of a cocktail, you can help independent journalism thrive.

Pop-Up-1_c
Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here
Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want more in your life?

For less than the price of a cocktail, you can help independent journalism thrive.

Pop-Up-1_c
Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here
Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

You’ve almost hit your limit.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.
Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here
You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want more in your life?

For less than the price of a cocktail, you can help independent journalism thrive.

Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

We have so much more to tell you.

You’ve reached your limit.

Sign up for a digital subscription, starting at less than $2 a week.

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want a seat at the table? To continue reading this article, sign up today.

Support independent criticism for $10/month (or just $110/year).

Already a subscriber? Log in.