A Walk on Sugar Hill

Walking down 145th Street in Sugar Hill, I can’t help but think about all the Harlem legends who’ve passed through here—jazz musicians, poets, activists—just everyday people who made history without even knowing it. The smell of Caribbean food mixing with the fried chicken from Charles' hits me in a way that’s hard to explain—it’s like stepping off a plane in Manila and instantly feeling at home. There’s something about the spices, the warmth, the comfort. And then I look up at the buildings—these beautiful old brownstones and detailed facades—and wonder what they looked like back in their heyday, before disinvestment and inequality wore them down. When I paint this street with a palette knife, I try to capture all of that—the weight of history, the texture of memory, and the soul that still lives here.