Mixed media on canvas | 21ʺW × 2ʺD × 21ʺH | Cheryl Fudge
In The Poetry of Maya Angelou That Moves Through Us, Cheryl Fudge offers a lyrical protest against erasure—a tribute to the enduring voice of one of the world’s greatest writers. The piece responds to the recent removal of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings from shelves at the U.S. Naval Academy’s library, an act that echoes a long and troubling history of silencing transformative narratives.
At its center, a luminous fish glides through layers of deep color. Its body, inscribed with vintage stamps and faded script, becomes a vessel of memory and resistance. It does not pause to understand the absurdity of censorship—it swims forward, untouched, refusing to be caught in the net of suppression.
Below it, a woman strums a mandolin, her music glowing with light. Her melody, like Angelou’s poetry, cuts through silence and lingers in the air—a force both tender and unyielding. Circular forms drift through the canvas: orbits, portals, the shape of breath, the shape of speech.
Threaded through the composition is a quiet defiance, best captured in Angelou’s own words:
“We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.”
Framed with a gold-edged inner mat and housed in a museum-quality frame, this piece invites us to listen—to the voices that refuse to be erased, and to the art that moves through us, still singing
