Limin/en reflects on gathering and threshold. In the Caribbean, to lime (verb: limin) describes an unstructured coming together; in psychology, limen names the edge of perception, where sensation wavers between absence and awareness.

This ongoing body of work draws from public archives of Black collective life and my late father’s archive of unrealized architectural plans—structures held between intention and materialization. Through translation, fragmentation, and spatial reconfiguration, these materials become a transient site between private and public, inheritance and authorship, presence and loss.

The archive is treated not as a record but as a gathering space—holding what was imagined but never built, and asking how memory and refusal take form at the threshold.