Every year, during dandelion season (from about late April into May), I collect and archive dandelion seeds from various areas in The Bronx. Using these collected seeds, I “make wishes” to my ancestors through the creation of ‘Wish Jars’ – little glass jars that contain a variety of materials ranging from dried plants to beads to gold foil from Modelo bottles and, of course, dandelion seeds.
Dandelions were a common sight for me during my childhood. Signaling the turn of the weather, their yellow blooms were a promise of longer, warmer, and sunnier days. Born and raised in The Bronx, dandelions weren’t “weeds” to me, just beautiful, playful blooms that would grow and thrive in spaces that no one else bothered to care for. For me, they were symbols of resilience and beauty found in the everyday, in the “abandoned/desolate/vacant” spaces.
Intrigued by their consistent presence in these “unfavorable” places, I dedicated myself to researching more about them. Once I learned about dandelions’ history and their extremely beneficial properties (including their use as a superfood), I knew that I would be forever connected to them. How could this one little, extremely useful and beneficial plant be seen with such disgust or, at best, so overlooked? What better conduit to communicate to the universe than through an unstoppable seed that can root and thrive in almost any environment? That would grow and regrow time and time again, no matter how many times it has been chopped, plucked, or plowed over?
As I grew in my practice, I started to wonder how others could engage with these Wish Jars. How could the creation of these jars transform into something larger? What power is there in the act of wishing? I slowly began conducting small workshops through various galleries where participants of all ages were able to create their own jars as they reflected on their feelings and connections to family. Through these workshops, I had the opportunity to engage in dialogue with others about their history and realized I wanted to do more, learn more, and continue sharing in this experience. In this pursuit, I became a Create Change Fellow with The Laundromat Project in 2023.
Over the course of my fellowship, through the various workshops and conversations with other artists, my thoughts on what these jars could be and provide for others started to ferment. One conversation I remember in particular was with Catherine Mbali Green-Johnson. Opening up to her about my idea for the future of my Wish Jars, she told me, “I see your jars as incubators, containers for others’ stories and histories.” I started to ask myself:
What does it really mean to imagine? How could the act of wishing be a part of communal history and storytelling? What could people gain from this act of sharing? What does it mean to have your histories, memories, and hopes seen by another?
I had the opportunity to explore a few of these ideas with my group, Foodprints, during our activation, Food Prints: Soul of Food. Composed of my fellow cohort members Sada Johnson, Daequan Collier, and Fei Li, our group collaborated with Deep Routes, a local Bed-Stuy educational project that uplifts the foodways of African and Indigenous diasporas. We took part in Deep Routes’ Juneteenth Jubilee workshop, where community members prepared and shared a communal dinner while learning about the legacy of Juneteenth and the crops that sustained Black communities across the Southern U.S. and Caribbean.
For this event, I designed hibiscus-shaped cards that were distributed while the food was served. Before eating, my group and I asked participants to recall a memory associated with food. What did these foods bring back for them? What were their fondest moments? Encouraging them to share these memories both on the cards and with each other, we heard stories of grandmothers in kitchens, of home countries, of family dinners.
Our activation affirmed for me how much strength we have in the simplicity of our day-to-day actions and interactions. It taught me how crucial it is for individuals to gather, break bread, and share with one another. I knew that I wanted to move forward with my Wish Jars, to bring them into the community and harness the power of storytelling, wishing, and imagining. I didn’t realize then that in 2025, less than two years later I would have the opportunity to make my own imagining a reality.
Last year, I worked with Urban Health Plan, a network of community health centers that originated in the South Bronx. I was invited to be their very first Teaching Artist Resident as part of their Arts for Everybody program. Over the course of four months, I conducted Wish Jar workshops across several locations. In these workshops, I encouraged patients to make a wish on a pompom, place it into a glass jar of their choice, and fill it with colored sand. Using a “take a wish, leave a wish” model, patients made two jars: one for themselves and one for their community.
I had the immense privilege of watching these workshops transform into a living exchange as the community embraced the activity and engaged more deeply than I ever could have envisioned. Taking advantage of the still time before, after, and in between appointments, patients enthusiastically created their jars. There was such a range in responses. Some shared stories of their children who they brought for their yearly checkup. Others shared stories of their own health history and struggles, using their jar as a reminder of the beauty in the everyday. Some even shared painful moments in their lives as they remembered loved ones who were no longer with them. Some prayed over theirs, willing more love into this world. One woman, who took time to tell me her life story, came back to the clinic and told me she hung her jar right by her window so she sees it every morning before she steps outside to pray to the sun. With the simple act of wishing, every jar became a symbol of faith, goodwill, and joy. At the end of the residency, to honor these intentions, I assembled the collected community jars into an installation titled Wishing Elements: Community in Color. They can be found at UHP’s Tres Puentes and El Nuevo San Juan locations.
Catherine’s insights and my time at LP stayed with me during my residency and continue to guide me as I navigate through my various projects. I’ve held on tightly to my belief in the power of imagination, reflection, and hope. I’ve watched my work slowly blossom with these ideas rooted at the very center of my practice, and like dandelions, which bloom in the most unexpected places, they continue to reappear and reaffirm themselves in ways I can never anticipate.
My recent trip to Ruth Foundation of the Arts in Milwaukee became one of the most profound examples of this. Attending a panel of four artists who explore the intersections between archival and ecological inquiry, I gained immense insight into how the plants we encounter every day have evolved to live in conjunction with us. I realized just how much they adapted, not just to live in spite of us, but to thrive alongside us. This revelation resonated with me deeply, proving once again just how deeply our existence shapes the world, even through the simple act of living within it.
With these ideas, I move in my practice reflecting on how much I’ve grown, not just in my work, but in my view of the world, of community, and my place in it. I carry these reflections into my next project, a public projection piece, created in collaboration with The Point, Inspiration Point, and BronxArtSpace. Working with community members, I will develop a series of digital collages that remember and honor the efforts of the Hunts Point community that directly resulted in the permanent closure and transformation of the Spofford Juvenile Detention Center. I look forward to bearing witness to what new fruits will naturally–and unexpectedly–arise from these endeavors in the next phase of my journey.
Alumni Bloom Somewhere New
Following a shared trip to the Ruth Foundation for the Arts in Milwaukee, three Laundromat Project alumni reflect on how the experience resonated across their practices—opening new lines of inquiry around archives, ecology, and artistic process.
ABOUT KAT MIRANDA
Katherine (Kat) Miranda (they/he) is a Latinx, non-binary multidisciplinary artist born, raised, and based in the Bronx, NY. Working with materials sourced from their family, community, and the natural environment, Kat creates objects and images that honor ancestral memory and explore cycles of preservation, transformation, and reclamation. His practice often incorporates plant life, found objects, and familial archives to reimagine histories and envision alternative futures. Kat is a recipient of fellowships including the 2023 Create Create Fellowship at The Laundromat Project, the Van Lier Fellowship at Wave Hill and the AIM Fellowship at the Bronx Museum. He has exhibited widely across New York City. Learn more.