Once Upon a Time in the Charnel Grounds: Swoon’s Latest Fairy Tale Comes Alive
Written by Michael J. Lodato
Published on March 23rd, 2026
A few minutes after entering her studio, Caledonia Curry offered me an oracle reading. Curry, known to the street art world as Swoon, recently created an oracle deck based on Sibylant Sisters, a fairy tale of her own making. I pulled five cards. Demonstrating her knack for recombining mythological elements, Curry wove them together in a narrative about a coming transition in my life. The rest is personal, but—if you must know—my first card depicted an out of control garden hose, indicating that I am about to enter my trickster era.
In fact, Curry describes herself as in the middle of a transition. Beginning her career as a prolific street artist, Curry—now the Distinguished Artist-in-Residence at Silver Art Projects—has since evolved to focus on immersive storytelling. In a previous interview with UP Magazine, Curry reflected on her transition into gallery spaces: “It wasn’t for me so much about bringing street art into the museum. It was about asking myself what other parts of my own artistic expression were going to be let loose in the change of context.”
Her stories deal with themes of family instability, intergenerational trauma, and the use of childhood gifts to navigate an uncertain world.
Many core themes remain. Her stories deal with themes of family instability, intergenerational trauma, and the use of childhood gifts to navigate an uncertain world. Describing her Sibylant Sisters fairy tale, Curry writes that “some truths […] can only be told by witches and unicorns, ogres and toads.” Curry explained the therapeutic value of fairy tales by reflecting on her own journey. While wrestling with childhood trauma, Curry experienced trouble sleeping. “I just started retelling the story,” she said, “I found the part of me that was a little kid, still stuck in that memory, who was like, ‘Sorry, hon. I don’t read Bessel van der Kolk. I don’t read psychology textbooks. If you want to talk to me, tell me a story.’” Curry was delighted to discover honing the craft of fairytale writing can support communication with one’s inner child. “I just started saying ‘Okay, one day, there was a wicked witch,’ you know?” she said.
“I had a nut of something unsolvable in my mind,” she said, “After eight days of staring at walls, this fairy tale started pouring out.”
Curry emphasizes the power of storytelling to help us navigate complicated feelings. It’s therefore no surprise that her latest fairy tale emerged after a therapeutic exercise. Curry recounts taking an interest in 10-day silent meditation practices. “During COVID, I had to do them by myself,” she said. She found one particular iteration of this practice especially challenging. “I had a nut of something unsolvable in my mind,” she said, “After eight days of staring at walls, this fairy tale started pouring out.” Curry has described creative inspiration as something like Old Faithful. “You know that geyser?” she said, “Sometimes it’s just going to shoot off, and you’re just like, ‘Well, we’re doing this now.’ You don’t know when it’s going to happen. It’s led by like an inner process that I myself feel surprised and befuddled by, and that I just have to continually renew my faith in. These are my marching orders.”
Born from a moment of meditation-induced inspiration, her latest work Queen Hattie and the Heartstone also uses fantasy elements to support the processing of trauma. Currently in development, her space has two focal points, a colorful tower dubbed Heart Castle and a boneyard she calls “the charnel grounds.” Each will become major set pieces of her project.
Seeking to encounter human finitude face-to-face, Tibetan monks visit charnel grounds to practice Tonglen, a Buddhist breathing practice that means “sending and receiving.”
Charnel grounds are above-ground resting places for decomposing bodies found in the Himalayas where frozen terrain makes burial challenging. Seeking to encounter human finitude face-to-face, Tibetan monks visit charnel grounds to practice Tonglen, a Buddhist breathing practice that means “sending and receiving.” “Tonglen was one of the first meditation practices I ever started working with,” said Curry. Practitioners are meant to welcome something burdening on the inhale. “Then, on the out-breath,” said Curry, “you send out something that’s not plaguing you.” The graveyard environment serves as a perfect setting for a fairy tale meant to confront society’s penchant for denying the inevitability of death.
Curry’s reflection on the charnel grounds represents not just an individual need for emotional processing, but a collective one as well. Facing death may be uncomfortable, but avoiding it is far worse. In our interview, Curry observed that American society struggles to accept mortality—for example, the powers that be are either propping up a gerontocracy or delving into biohacking in an attempt to live forever. “Look at these vampiric old men destroying the world,” she said, “if they could accept that they will die, maybe they’d be acting differently right now. Just a theory.”
While Curry’s new work is a pivot from her street art era, she has begun to find ways to repurpose previous pieces. Inspired by Belgian painter James Ensor’s 1891 Skeletons Fighting over a Hanged Man, Curry depicts skeletons wearing pots as helmets, wielding pans as weapons—a piece now destined for the charnel grounds installation. Asked about its significance, Curry said, “We would bomb each other into oblivion, and then our skeletons would get up, put on faux military regalia, and keep fighting,” another example of how fantasy contains deep truths.
Curry’s latest project has meant scrutinizing skulls more closely than most people do. She began painting over medical models of skulls, only to discover the proportions were not quite right. She realized that she was working with male skulls—female skulls are both harder to come by and inexplicably more expensive. The artistic process often uncovers challenging ideas in the abstract, but the logistics of artwork itself can reveal uncomfortable realities too.
Putting a modern spin on ancient myths, Curry has reimagined Hecate as an “old biker chick from Daytona,” Curry’s hometown.
That said, Curry’s work is full of whimsy. After all, it is hard not to laugh at a skeleton taking a swing at his opponent, clad in everyday kitchenware. In her writing, Curry draws freely upon classic symbols, like Hecate, Greek goddess of magic and liminal spaces—like charnel grounds. Putting a modern spin on ancient myths, Curry has reimagined Hecate as an “old biker chick from Daytona,” Curry’s hometown. Curry exhibits a life-affirming ability to infuse heart and playfulness into stories about overcoming serious difficulties, especially with her Sibylant Sisters oracle deck.
Queen Hattie and the Heartstone will straddle the boundary between the narrative and visual arts, featuring numerous components, including filmmaking, stop motion, and puppetry. Curry plans to invite people into the space for oral storytelling events. Viewers should expect to brave the charnel grounds, and—if Curry’s oracle deck is any indication—learn something about themselves as well.
Michael Lodato is a Brooklyn-based writer, independent tutor, and former philosophy instructor. His comedy has appeared in McSweeney’s, The American Bystander, and Current Affairs. He is passionate about using humor to teach big ideas and has contributed script writing to educational YouTube channels like Crash Course and Wisecrack. He is perhaps best known for the time he accidentally offered an edible to a former Bush administration official, who politely declined.
Instagram: @magnesiummike
Website: mikelodato.com