Jasmine Thomas-Girvan (b. 1961) is a Jamaican artist whose sculptural practice explores the entanglement of ancestral memory, material histories, and creative resistance. Working with organic and found materials, coconut shell, cow horn, charred wood, seed pods, and precious metals, her delicate yet complex forms merge the human, animal, and plant worlds. Through her work, Thomas-Girvan draws from the Caribbean oral traditions, nature as a site of refuge, and the survival strategies of the Maroons. This offers viewers a tactile encounter with histories that persist beneath the surface.
Her recent works, including Cosmic Whispers (His Master’s Voice) (2019) and The Forestine Soul, Wisdom That Surround Us (2024), embody this approach. Combining traditional techniques with unexpected materials, she crafts sculptural narratives that ask us to linger—to hold complexity, to remember, and to find healing through material engagement.
We talked with Thomas-Girvan about her evolution from jewelry-making to sculpture, her relationship with nature, and how ancestral knowledge shapes her vision of art as both refuge and act of resistance.
Tedecia Bromfield: You’ve had a fascinating evolution in your practice, from creating utilitarian objects to sculptural works of art. I know you began making jewelry. How did your experience in jewelry-making influence your approach to sculpture? Do you still carry aspects of working with smaller, functional objects into your larger, more abstract pieces?
Jasmine Thomas-Girvan: Jewelry making requires tremendous patience and attention to detail because you are working on a small scale. Understanding the importance of the minutiae becomes second nature, so when creating larger works, that sensitivity is always present.
I can’t say it is a conscious approach, but without a doubt, the idea of zooming in, requiring viewers to look more closely for the obvious and sometimes not so obvious, challenges the viewer to become more engaged. I think people appreciate the trust invested in them to find the surprise.
TB: Given your focus on ancestral memory and materials tied to the Caribbean landscape, do you feel there’s an intimate relationship with the materials you work with, almost like working with memory itself?
JTG: I often say that materials choose me.
While working on several of the projects, new materials appeared serendipitously at the right time. This happened with glass and feathers, for instance.