The Hotelmen is a tribute, a reckoning, and a reimagining. This body of work emerged from my desire to honor the Cuban Giants—the first professionally salaried Black baseball team—who played in St. Augustine, Florida, from 1885 to 1886. These men were more than athletes; they were waiters, performers, and pioneers who navigated a world that both demanded their labor and denied their full humanity.

My work explores the complex existence of these men, particularly through the figure of Frank Thompson, the head waiter at the Hotel Ponce de Leon and founder of the Cuban Giants. The name Hotelmen recognizes that most Black athletes of that time supported themselves as hotel staff during the off-season. Their lives moved fluidly between service and sport, performance and survival. In my paintings and installations, I attempt to capture that rhythm—the shifting posture between public persona and private self.

Using screenprints inspired by vintage posters, painted wooden pennants, Flagler-era tableware, and reimagined photographs, I reconstruct the fragments of a story too often overlooked. Color is my entry point. “Sharp color contrasts expose the players in visible and vivid hues—at once cool in tone, and then radiant, molten, and sunny” (Brantley, 2023). These color choices are not only formal—they are emotional and historical. They speak to the duality of being both performer and person.

The cakewalk paintings explore this tension more explicitly. As an African American dance that began as satire and evolved into spectacle, the cakewalk embodies the complexity of performative Blackness. Like the Cuban Giants, cakewalkers entertained wealthy white audiences in spaces like the Ponce de Leon Hotel, toeing the line between agency and caricature. The question of who performs, for whom, and at what cost is central to these works. These men lived at the intersection of post-emancipation hope and systemic racism. Their efforts helped pave the way for the Negro Leagues, one of the most successful Black-owned enterprises of the 20th century. And yet, the obstacles they faced—economic, social, psychological—still resonate today.

In this work, I offer both homage and interrogation. I pair contemporary portraiture with archival materials, including excerpts from the 1875 Civil Rights Act, to underscore the ongoing struggle for dignity and equity. The Hotelmen is not just a look back—it’s a call forward, asking us to reckon with what has changed and what remains.

 (with reference to Gylbert Coker, “The Hotelmen,” exhibition catalog essay, 2022, and Alexa Brantley, CEAM Art History Intern, 2023)