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Grateful to share that I am part of the @forbes @forbesunder30 30 Under 30 list for 2026 in the Art and Style category.

Growing up in the inner city of Washington DC, I never imagined that the path I chose would bring me to a moment like this. My work has always been about shining light on marginalized communities and giving voice to histories and realities that are often ignored. Art has been my way of holding space for people who feel unseen, and every piece I make carries a bit of that responsibility.

This moment is bigger than me. It belongs to every kid who sits in a classroom dreaming of creating something meaningful, every young artist who feels pressure to pick a safer path, and every person who has ever been told that success in creative industries is out of reach. I hope this reminds you that your voice matters and your vision can take you farther than you think.

Thank you to my team, my community, and everyone who has supported me over the years. None of this happens alone. Conceptual art is often overlooked in favor of work that feels more immediate, but there is power in experimentation and storytelling that challenges people to think differently. I am proud to break through for artists who push boundaries and redefine what art can be.

Ps. I might have to turn the city up at @rosebardc 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Also I said if I made Forbes I would play this Chief Keef song all day long

Grateful to share that I am part of the @forbes @forbesunder30 30 Under 30 list for 2026 in the Art and Style category.

Growing up in the inner city of Washington DC, I never imagined that the path I chose would bring me to a moment like this. My work has always been about shining light on marginalized communities and giving voice to histories and realities that are often ignored. Art has been my way of holding space for people who feel unseen, and every piece I make carries a bit of that responsibility.

This moment is bigger than me. It belongs to every kid who sits in a classroom dreaming of creating something meaningful, every young artist who feels pressure to pick a safer path, and every person who has ever been told that success in creative industries is out of reach. I hope this reminds you that your voice matters and your vision can take you farther than you think.

Thank you to my team, my community, and everyone who has supported me over the years. None of this happens alone. Conceptual art is often overlooked in favor of work that feels more immediate, but there is power in experimentation and storytelling that challenges people to think differently. I am proud to break through for artists who push boundaries and redefine what art can be.

Ps. I might have to turn the city up at @rosebardc 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Also I said if I made Forbes I would play this Chief Keef song all day long

This sculpture expands on my ongoing interest in the relationship between Islam and incarceration in the American prison system. Growing up, I saw how prison shaped entire neighborhoods. I kept noticing the same pattern. Many young men who went inside came home as practicing Muslims, searching for discipline, structure, and a spiritual anchor in a place meant to remove identity and hope.

The work features nine heads stacked on a tall metal rod, resting above a three person Arabic prayer rug. The pipe running through them brings in the cold, industrial feeling of prison architecture, while the rug introduces softness, sacred geometry, and a sense of grounding. The white kufis signal commitment to faith, unity, and protection.

The number nine holds weight in many spiritual traditions, representing completion and the rise to a higher level of consciousness. The vertical lift of the heads suggests movement toward clarity, renewal, and transformation.

This piece documents how faith operates quietly but powerfully inside prison, becoming a lifeline that helps people navigate trauma, rebuild identity, and find community. It is about resilience in dark places and the ability to reach for something higher even under confinement.

Alhamdulillah, 2026
3D Printed Heads, Prayer Rug & Metal
Dimensions Vary

Apart of my solo exhibition “System Structures” at @bremondcapela

This sculpture expands on my ongoing interest in the relationship between Islam and incarceration in the American prison system. Growing up, I saw how prison shaped entire neighborhoods. I kept noticing the same pattern. Many young men who went inside came home as practicing Muslims, searching for discipline, structure, and a spiritual anchor in a place meant to remove identity and hope.

The work features nine heads stacked on a tall metal rod, resting above a three person Arabic prayer rug. The pipe running through them brings in the cold, industrial feeling of prison architecture, while the rug introduces softness, sacred geometry, and a sense of grounding. The white kufis signal commitment to faith, unity, and protection.

The number nine holds weight in many spiritual traditions, representing completion and the rise to a higher level of consciousness. The vertical lift of the heads suggests movement toward clarity, renewal, and transformation.

This piece documents how faith operates quietly but powerfully inside prison, becoming a lifeline that helps people navigate trauma, rebuild identity, and find community. It is about resilience in dark places and the ability to reach for something higher even under confinement.

Alhamdulillah, 2026
3D Printed Heads, Prayer Rug & Metal
Dimensions Vary

Apart of my solo exhibition “System Structures” at @bremondcapela

This sculpture expands on my ongoing interest in the relationship between Islam and incarceration in the American prison system. Growing up, I saw how prison shaped entire neighborhoods. I kept noticing the same pattern. Many young men who went inside came home as practicing Muslims, searching for discipline, structure, and a spiritual anchor in a place meant to remove identity and hope.

The work features nine heads stacked on a tall metal rod, resting above a three person Arabic prayer rug. The pipe running through them brings in the cold, industrial feeling of prison architecture, while the rug introduces softness, sacred geometry, and a sense of grounding. The white kufis signal commitment to faith, unity, and protection.

The number nine holds weight in many spiritual traditions, representing completion and the rise to a higher level of consciousness. The vertical lift of the heads suggests movement toward clarity, renewal, and transformation.

This piece documents how faith operates quietly but powerfully inside prison, becoming a lifeline that helps people navigate trauma, rebuild identity, and find community. It is about resilience in dark places and the ability to reach for something higher even under confinement.

Alhamdulillah, 2026
3D Printed Heads, Prayer Rug & Metal
Dimensions Vary

Apart of my solo exhibition “System Structures” at @bremondcapela

This sculpture expands on my ongoing interest in the relationship between Islam and incarceration in the American prison system. Growing up, I saw how prison shaped entire neighborhoods. I kept noticing the same pattern. Many young men who went inside came home as practicing Muslims, searching for discipline, structure, and a spiritual anchor in a place meant to remove identity and hope.

The work features nine heads stacked on a tall metal rod, resting above a three person Arabic prayer rug. The pipe running through them brings in the cold, industrial feeling of prison architecture, while the rug introduces softness, sacred geometry, and a sense of grounding. The white kufis signal commitment to faith, unity, and protection.

The number nine holds weight in many spiritual traditions, representing completion and the rise to a higher level of consciousness. The vertical lift of the heads suggests movement toward clarity, renewal, and transformation.

This piece documents how faith operates quietly but powerfully inside prison, becoming a lifeline that helps people navigate trauma, rebuild identity, and find community. It is about resilience in dark places and the ability to reach for something higher even under confinement.

Alhamdulillah, 2026
3D Printed Heads, Prayer Rug & Metal
Dimensions Vary

Apart of my solo exhibition “System Structures” at @bremondcapela

This sculpture expands on my ongoing interest in the relationship between Islam and incarceration in the American prison system. Growing up, I saw how prison shaped entire neighborhoods. I kept noticing the same pattern. Many young men who went inside came home as practicing Muslims, searching for discipline, structure, and a spiritual anchor in a place meant to remove identity and hope.

The work features nine heads stacked on a tall metal rod, resting above a three person Arabic prayer rug. The pipe running through them brings in the cold, industrial feeling of prison architecture, while the rug introduces softness, sacred geometry, and a sense of grounding. The white kufis signal commitment to faith, unity, and protection.

The number nine holds weight in many spiritual traditions, representing completion and the rise to a higher level of consciousness. The vertical lift of the heads suggests movement toward clarity, renewal, and transformation.

This piece documents how faith operates quietly but powerfully inside prison, becoming a lifeline that helps people navigate trauma, rebuild identity, and find community. It is about resilience in dark places and the ability to reach for something higher even under confinement.

Alhamdulillah, 2026
3D Printed Heads, Prayer Rug & Metal
Dimensions Vary

Apart of my solo exhibition “System Structures” at @bremondcapela

INTERVIEW - Emmanuel Massillon speaks from the gallery about 𝑆𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑚 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠, his current exhibition at Bremond Capela, while reflecting more broadly on the concerns that shape his practice.

Moving across painting, sculpture, installation, and performance, Massillon examines how systems of power, language, memory, and representation structure contemporary life. In this conversation, he discusses the exhibition as part of a wider investigation into the social, political, and symbolic frameworks that condition visibility, experience, and survival.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡

@massi____ #EmmanuelMassillon #BremondCapela #ArtistInterview #ArtGalleryParis

This installation grows out of a lifetime spent in the Black church. As a child I sat in the front row every Sunday beside my grandmother. From that angle the preacher’s podium became a stage, a threshold, and a symbol that shaped my early understanding of power, spirituality, and performance. I was always fascinated by the way the preacher carried himself, how the congregation looked toward him, and how the clothing, the jewelry, and the objects around the podium created a presence that was larger than life.

In many Black churches the preacher holds a unique position, both revered and scrutinized. They often appear more financially secure than the rest of the congregation, which ties into traditions like the prosperity gospel. Growing up I noticed how sermons encouraged giving as a pathway to transformation, and how this created a complex mix of faith, hope, sacrifice, and spectacle. That tension stayed with me.
This installation suspends the preacher’s stand from the ceiling as if the structure of authority has been lifted out of place. The belongings of the preacher fall through the air. Printed pages, a Bible, a microphone, glasses, a suit jacket, holy water, a key, costume mustache, prop money, toupee hair, and a Rolex watch drift downward and scatter across the gallery floor. The viewer encounters the objects almost like artifacts of a person who has slipped out of reach or into another realm.

By allowing these objects to fall and rest on the ground the work suggests that the tools of the preacher are no longer fixed to one figure. Anyone walking into the gallery could pick them up and step into that role. The installation becomes an invitation to consider how authority is assembled, how identity is performed, and how spiritual leadership can be both genuine and theatrical. The suspended stand and scattered objects create a quiet disruption, calling the viewer to reflect on the systems of faith, aspiration, and human vulnerability embedded in the Black church.

Had to add the photo of me and me grandma 💯

Fall From Grace, 2026
Preacher stand, ink-printed paper (priestly oath),
Bible, microphone, glasses, suit jacket, holy water
Variable dimensions

This installation grows out of a lifetime spent in the Black church. As a child I sat in the front row every Sunday beside my grandmother. From that angle the preacher’s podium became a stage, a threshold, and a symbol that shaped my early understanding of power, spirituality, and performance. I was always fascinated by the way the preacher carried himself, how the congregation looked toward him, and how the clothing, the jewelry, and the objects around the podium created a presence that was larger than life.

In many Black churches the preacher holds a unique position, both revered and scrutinized. They often appear more financially secure than the rest of the congregation, which ties into traditions like the prosperity gospel. Growing up I noticed how sermons encouraged giving as a pathway to transformation, and how this created a complex mix of faith, hope, sacrifice, and spectacle. That tension stayed with me.
This installation suspends the preacher’s stand from the ceiling as if the structure of authority has been lifted out of place. The belongings of the preacher fall through the air. Printed pages, a Bible, a microphone, glasses, a suit jacket, holy water, a key, costume mustache, prop money, toupee hair, and a Rolex watch drift downward and scatter across the gallery floor. The viewer encounters the objects almost like artifacts of a person who has slipped out of reach or into another realm.

By allowing these objects to fall and rest on the ground the work suggests that the tools of the preacher are no longer fixed to one figure. Anyone walking into the gallery could pick them up and step into that role. The installation becomes an invitation to consider how authority is assembled, how identity is performed, and how spiritual leadership can be both genuine and theatrical. The suspended stand and scattered objects create a quiet disruption, calling the viewer to reflect on the systems of faith, aspiration, and human vulnerability embedded in the Black church.

Had to add the photo of me and me grandma 💯

Fall From Grace, 2026
Preacher stand, ink-printed paper (priestly oath),
Bible, microphone, glasses, suit jacket, holy water
Variable dimensions

This installation grows out of a lifetime spent in the Black church. As a child I sat in the front row every Sunday beside my grandmother. From that angle the preacher’s podium became a stage, a threshold, and a symbol that shaped my early understanding of power, spirituality, and performance. I was always fascinated by the way the preacher carried himself, how the congregation looked toward him, and how the clothing, the jewelry, and the objects around the podium created a presence that was larger than life.

In many Black churches the preacher holds a unique position, both revered and scrutinized. They often appear more financially secure than the rest of the congregation, which ties into traditions like the prosperity gospel. Growing up I noticed how sermons encouraged giving as a pathway to transformation, and how this created a complex mix of faith, hope, sacrifice, and spectacle. That tension stayed with me.
This installation suspends the preacher’s stand from the ceiling as if the structure of authority has been lifted out of place. The belongings of the preacher fall through the air. Printed pages, a Bible, a microphone, glasses, a suit jacket, holy water, a key, costume mustache, prop money, toupee hair, and a Rolex watch drift downward and scatter across the gallery floor. The viewer encounters the objects almost like artifacts of a person who has slipped out of reach or into another realm.

By allowing these objects to fall and rest on the ground the work suggests that the tools of the preacher are no longer fixed to one figure. Anyone walking into the gallery could pick them up and step into that role. The installation becomes an invitation to consider how authority is assembled, how identity is performed, and how spiritual leadership can be both genuine and theatrical. The suspended stand and scattered objects create a quiet disruption, calling the viewer to reflect on the systems of faith, aspiration, and human vulnerability embedded in the Black church.

Had to add the photo of me and me grandma 💯

Fall From Grace, 2026
Preacher stand, ink-printed paper (priestly oath),
Bible, microphone, glasses, suit jacket, holy water
Variable dimensions

This installation grows out of a lifetime spent in the Black church. As a child I sat in the front row every Sunday beside my grandmother. From that angle the preacher’s podium became a stage, a threshold, and a symbol that shaped my early understanding of power, spirituality, and performance. I was always fascinated by the way the preacher carried himself, how the congregation looked toward him, and how the clothing, the jewelry, and the objects around the podium created a presence that was larger than life.

In many Black churches the preacher holds a unique position, both revered and scrutinized. They often appear more financially secure than the rest of the congregation, which ties into traditions like the prosperity gospel. Growing up I noticed how sermons encouraged giving as a pathway to transformation, and how this created a complex mix of faith, hope, sacrifice, and spectacle. That tension stayed with me.
This installation suspends the preacher’s stand from the ceiling as if the structure of authority has been lifted out of place. The belongings of the preacher fall through the air. Printed pages, a Bible, a microphone, glasses, a suit jacket, holy water, a key, costume mustache, prop money, toupee hair, and a Rolex watch drift downward and scatter across the gallery floor. The viewer encounters the objects almost like artifacts of a person who has slipped out of reach or into another realm.

By allowing these objects to fall and rest on the ground the work suggests that the tools of the preacher are no longer fixed to one figure. Anyone walking into the gallery could pick them up and step into that role. The installation becomes an invitation to consider how authority is assembled, how identity is performed, and how spiritual leadership can be both genuine and theatrical. The suspended stand and scattered objects create a quiet disruption, calling the viewer to reflect on the systems of faith, aspiration, and human vulnerability embedded in the Black church.

Had to add the photo of me and me grandma 💯

Fall From Grace, 2026
Preacher stand, ink-printed paper (priestly oath),
Bible, microphone, glasses, suit jacket, holy water
Variable dimensions

Thanks @forbesunder30 @forbes for having me. DREAMS COME TRUE !!!! Happy to be on the list this year for Art & Style section 💯

PIECE BY PIECE - In 𝐾𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝐷𝑜𝑜𝑟, Emmanuel Massillon condenses a scene of violent intrusion into a stark sculptural image: three legs burst through a wooden apartment door, turning an ordinary threshold into a site of force, rupture, and institutional power. A door is meant to protect, to separate inside from outside, safety from threat. Here, that promise collapses. The work asks who has the authority to cross a boundary, under what conditions, and at whose expense.

Each leg stands for a distinct arm of power in American public life. One, clad in military fatigues and tan boots, evokes the National Guard; another, in navy pants and a police-style boot, recalls ICE and the machinery of immigration enforcement; the third, marked by a dress shoe and the hem of a judicial robe, points to the legal system that authorizes and legitimizes these forms of entry. Together, they break through the same door, suggesting not isolated acts, but overlapping structures of control. By showing only the legs, Massillon removes individual identity and leaves only impact — a faceless force whose presence is felt most clearly in the moment it enters. Both immediate and symbolic, 𝐾𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝐷𝑜𝑜𝑟 reflects on protection, surveillance, and the fragility of private space when power decides to make itself felt.

Emmanuel Massillon
Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, found clothing, wooden door
203 x 83 x 80 cm
79 7/8 x 32 5/8 x 31 1/2 in

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

@massi____ #politicalart #installation #sculpture #contemporarysculpture

This work started with a question, what does it mean when the structures meant to protect us become the ones that cross our boundaries? That idea led to the image of three legs crashing through a door that should signal safety and privacy. Instead, the door becomes the point where power enters without permission.

Each leg represents a different institution that uses force in American life. One wears army fatigue pants and tan military boots, drawn from the National Guard patrols I saw throughout Washington DC while making this piece. Their presence shaped the tension surrounding security during that time.

The second leg wears a police style boot with navy pants, tied to ICE agents whose raids and neighborhood presence create another form of forced entry connected to immigration enforcement and surveillance.

The third leg belongs to someone from the legal system, marked by a dress shoe and the edge of a judicial robe. Judges and lawyers sign warrants, shape rulings, and create the frameworks that allow police, military, and federal agents to act.

Together the three legs burst through the same door, showing how separate institutions often move in coordination to enforce control. By focusing only on the legs, the identities disappear and the systems feel faceless even while their force is deeply felt.

For me, this sculpture reflects the moment we are living in, a time shaped by questions of protection, intrusion, and accountability. The broken door symbolizes the fragility of safety when powerful institutions decide to enter, inviting viewers to consider how these systems overlap and how their impact shapes daily life.

Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, Found clothing, Wooden door
Dimensions Vary

This work is apart of my exhibition “System Structures” w” @bremondcapela in Paris, France

This work started with a question, what does it mean when the structures meant to protect us become the ones that cross our boundaries? That idea led to the image of three legs crashing through a door that should signal safety and privacy. Instead, the door becomes the point where power enters without permission.

Each leg represents a different institution that uses force in American life. One wears army fatigue pants and tan military boots, drawn from the National Guard patrols I saw throughout Washington DC while making this piece. Their presence shaped the tension surrounding security during that time.

The second leg wears a police style boot with navy pants, tied to ICE agents whose raids and neighborhood presence create another form of forced entry connected to immigration enforcement and surveillance.

The third leg belongs to someone from the legal system, marked by a dress shoe and the edge of a judicial robe. Judges and lawyers sign warrants, shape rulings, and create the frameworks that allow police, military, and federal agents to act.

Together the three legs burst through the same door, showing how separate institutions often move in coordination to enforce control. By focusing only on the legs, the identities disappear and the systems feel faceless even while their force is deeply felt.

For me, this sculpture reflects the moment we are living in, a time shaped by questions of protection, intrusion, and accountability. The broken door symbolizes the fragility of safety when powerful institutions decide to enter, inviting viewers to consider how these systems overlap and how their impact shapes daily life.

Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, Found clothing, Wooden door
Dimensions Vary

This work is apart of my exhibition “System Structures” w” @bremondcapela in Paris, France

This work started with a question, what does it mean when the structures meant to protect us become the ones that cross our boundaries? That idea led to the image of three legs crashing through a door that should signal safety and privacy. Instead, the door becomes the point where power enters without permission.

Each leg represents a different institution that uses force in American life. One wears army fatigue pants and tan military boots, drawn from the National Guard patrols I saw throughout Washington DC while making this piece. Their presence shaped the tension surrounding security during that time.

The second leg wears a police style boot with navy pants, tied to ICE agents whose raids and neighborhood presence create another form of forced entry connected to immigration enforcement and surveillance.

The third leg belongs to someone from the legal system, marked by a dress shoe and the edge of a judicial robe. Judges and lawyers sign warrants, shape rulings, and create the frameworks that allow police, military, and federal agents to act.

Together the three legs burst through the same door, showing how separate institutions often move in coordination to enforce control. By focusing only on the legs, the identities disappear and the systems feel faceless even while their force is deeply felt.

For me, this sculpture reflects the moment we are living in, a time shaped by questions of protection, intrusion, and accountability. The broken door symbolizes the fragility of safety when powerful institutions decide to enter, inviting viewers to consider how these systems overlap and how their impact shapes daily life.

Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, Found clothing, Wooden door
Dimensions Vary

This work is apart of my exhibition “System Structures” w” @bremondcapela in Paris, France

This work started with a question, what does it mean when the structures meant to protect us become the ones that cross our boundaries? That idea led to the image of three legs crashing through a door that should signal safety and privacy. Instead, the door becomes the point where power enters without permission.

Each leg represents a different institution that uses force in American life. One wears army fatigue pants and tan military boots, drawn from the National Guard patrols I saw throughout Washington DC while making this piece. Their presence shaped the tension surrounding security during that time.

The second leg wears a police style boot with navy pants, tied to ICE agents whose raids and neighborhood presence create another form of forced entry connected to immigration enforcement and surveillance.

The third leg belongs to someone from the legal system, marked by a dress shoe and the edge of a judicial robe. Judges and lawyers sign warrants, shape rulings, and create the frameworks that allow police, military, and federal agents to act.

Together the three legs burst through the same door, showing how separate institutions often move in coordination to enforce control. By focusing only on the legs, the identities disappear and the systems feel faceless even while their force is deeply felt.

For me, this sculpture reflects the moment we are living in, a time shaped by questions of protection, intrusion, and accountability. The broken door symbolizes the fragility of safety when powerful institutions decide to enter, inviting viewers to consider how these systems overlap and how their impact shapes daily life.

Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, Found clothing, Wooden door
Dimensions Vary

This work is apart of my exhibition “System Structures” w” @bremondcapela in Paris, France

This work started with a question, what does it mean when the structures meant to protect us become the ones that cross our boundaries? That idea led to the image of three legs crashing through a door that should signal safety and privacy. Instead, the door becomes the point where power enters without permission.

Each leg represents a different institution that uses force in American life. One wears army fatigue pants and tan military boots, drawn from the National Guard patrols I saw throughout Washington DC while making this piece. Their presence shaped the tension surrounding security during that time.

The second leg wears a police style boot with navy pants, tied to ICE agents whose raids and neighborhood presence create another form of forced entry connected to immigration enforcement and surveillance.

The third leg belongs to someone from the legal system, marked by a dress shoe and the edge of a judicial robe. Judges and lawyers sign warrants, shape rulings, and create the frameworks that allow police, military, and federal agents to act.

Together the three legs burst through the same door, showing how separate institutions often move in coordination to enforce control. By focusing only on the legs, the identities disappear and the systems feel faceless even while their force is deeply felt.

For me, this sculpture reflects the moment we are living in, a time shaped by questions of protection, intrusion, and accountability. The broken door symbolizes the fragility of safety when powerful institutions decide to enter, inviting viewers to consider how these systems overlap and how their impact shapes daily life.

Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, Found clothing, Wooden door
Dimensions Vary

This work is apart of my exhibition “System Structures” w” @bremondcapela in Paris, France

This work started with a question, what does it mean when the structures meant to protect us become the ones that cross our boundaries? That idea led to the image of three legs crashing through a door that should signal safety and privacy. Instead, the door becomes the point where power enters without permission.

Each leg represents a different institution that uses force in American life. One wears army fatigue pants and tan military boots, drawn from the National Guard patrols I saw throughout Washington DC while making this piece. Their presence shaped the tension surrounding security during that time.

The second leg wears a police style boot with navy pants, tied to ICE agents whose raids and neighborhood presence create another form of forced entry connected to immigration enforcement and surveillance.

The third leg belongs to someone from the legal system, marked by a dress shoe and the edge of a judicial robe. Judges and lawyers sign warrants, shape rulings, and create the frameworks that allow police, military, and federal agents to act.

Together the three legs burst through the same door, showing how separate institutions often move in coordination to enforce control. By focusing only on the legs, the identities disappear and the systems feel faceless even while their force is deeply felt.

For me, this sculpture reflects the moment we are living in, a time shaped by questions of protection, intrusion, and accountability. The broken door symbolizes the fragility of safety when powerful institutions decide to enter, inviting viewers to consider how these systems overlap and how their impact shapes daily life.

Kick Door, 2026
Mannequin leg, Found clothing, Wooden door
Dimensions Vary

This work is apart of my exhibition “System Structures” w” @bremondcapela in Paris, France

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

Should’ve been a doctor, nothing that I do little. 👨🏾‍⚕️🩺🩻

PIECE BY PIECE - In 𝑅𝑥 𝐿𝑖𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 (𝑅𝐼𝑃 𝑅𝑎𝑙𝑝ℎ), Emmanuel Massillon transforms a deeply personal memory into a sculptural gesture of tribute, grief, and critical reflection. Suspended in mid-air, a prescription bottle appears to pour an endless stream of white capsules onto the floor, turning medicine into a ritual offering. The work draws on African libation practices, in which liquid is poured to honor ancestors and loved ones; here, the act of pouring becomes both memorial and question.

Rooted in the artist’s childhood memory of his uncle Ralph, who lived with severe disability and chronic pain, the sculpture reflects on the ambivalent power of pharmaceuticals — their capacity to relieve suffering, but also their inability to resolve it entirely. Massillon extends this personal history outward, toward the broader systems that shape medication, dependency, access, and harm. What emerges is a work that holds tribute and critique in tension, inviting viewers to consider both the promise and the violence embedded in structures of care.

Emmanuel Massillon
Rx Libation (RIP Ralph), 2026
Plaster, metal, plastic, and pill container
182.9 x 50.8 x 50.8 cm
72 x 20 x 20 in

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐚.

@massi____ #conceptualart #americanart #installation #sculpture

April 9th, 6-9pm at @electronicartsintermix in collaboration with @blade_study I will be presenting two works, a screening of a segment of my performance with @massi____ last year at @harlesdenhighstreet and a new iteration of my ongoing installation basedexploration of the game GTA San Andreas

RSVP available from their channels

Peace

April 9th, 6-9pm at @electronicartsintermix in collaboration with @blade_study I will be presenting two works, a screening of a segment of my performance with @massi____ last year at @harlesdenhighstreet and a new iteration of my ongoing installation basedexploration of the game GTA San Andreas

RSVP available from their channels

Peace

April 9th, 6-9pm at @electronicartsintermix in collaboration with @blade_study I will be presenting two works, a screening of a segment of my performance with @massi____ last year at @harlesdenhighstreet and a new iteration of my ongoing installation basedexploration of the game GTA San Andreas

RSVP available from their channels

Peace

April 9th, 6-9pm at @electronicartsintermix in collaboration with @blade_study I will be presenting two works, a screening of a segment of my performance with @massi____ last year at @harlesdenhighstreet and a new iteration of my ongoing installation basedexploration of the game GTA San Andreas

RSVP available from their channels

Peace

April 9th, 6-9pm at @electronicartsintermix in collaboration with @blade_study I will be presenting two works, a screening of a segment of my performance with @massi____ last year at @harlesdenhighstreet and a new iteration of my ongoing installation basedexploration of the game GTA San Andreas

RSVP available from their channels

Peace

In this work I use a real mousetrap, the same kind people use in their homes to kill rodents, to speak about the economic dangers I saw growing up in the inner city. At the center of the piece is a hand carved African figure that I created. For me, this figure represents the spirit and inner life of a Black person, which appears throughout much of my work. I placed prop movie money around it, money that looks almost real, to echo the lure of fast cash and the risky choices people sometimes make when support and opportunity are limited.

The title, inna Trap, comes from the slang phrase “inna trap.” It is a term from inner city culture that describes being caught in a difficult or dangerous hustle in the pursuit of money. By using that phrase, I am preserving and documenting the language and lived experiences of the environment that shaped me. The slang itself becomes part of the artwork, a record of how people in my community talk about struggle, survival, and the pressures around them.

By putting the carved figure inside the mousetrap, I am speaking about how the pursuit of money can sometimes turn into a trap, one that harms the spirit and limits freedom. The work reflects the cycles many people face when resources are scarce. It asks viewers to think about who gets trapped, how those traps are built, and what it means to fight for a way out.

This work can be seen part of the exhibition “Burning the Mask” w/ @latinxprojnyu curated by @patricia.encarnacion.c

The show closes May 15th so run and see it !

This work was also shown with @bremondcapela in 2022 apart of my first solo exhibition with the gallery !

Inna Trap, 2022
Mouse Trap, Wooden Figure & Prop Money
12 × 8 1/2 × 91/2 in

In this work I use a real mousetrap, the same kind people use in their homes to kill rodents, to speak about the economic dangers I saw growing up in the inner city. At the center of the piece is a hand carved African figure that I created. For me, this figure represents the spirit and inner life of a Black person, which appears throughout much of my work. I placed prop movie money around it, money that looks almost real, to echo the lure of fast cash and the risky choices people sometimes make when support and opportunity are limited.

The title, inna Trap, comes from the slang phrase “inna trap.” It is a term from inner city culture that describes being caught in a difficult or dangerous hustle in the pursuit of money. By using that phrase, I am preserving and documenting the language and lived experiences of the environment that shaped me. The slang itself becomes part of the artwork, a record of how people in my community talk about struggle, survival, and the pressures around them.

By putting the carved figure inside the mousetrap, I am speaking about how the pursuit of money can sometimes turn into a trap, one that harms the spirit and limits freedom. The work reflects the cycles many people face when resources are scarce. It asks viewers to think about who gets trapped, how those traps are built, and what it means to fight for a way out.

This work can be seen part of the exhibition “Burning the Mask” w/ @latinxprojnyu curated by @patricia.encarnacion.c

The show closes May 15th so run and see it !

This work was also shown with @bremondcapela in 2022 apart of my first solo exhibition with the gallery !

Inna Trap, 2022
Mouse Trap, Wooden Figure & Prop Money
12 × 8 1/2 × 91/2 in