In spite of all theĀ amazing art I got to see this month, I think my November highlight has to be the two nights in a row I was able to attend free, very accessible artist talks right here in Brooklyn. I left both completely inspired and eager to dig deeper into the intersection of art and activism.
On Nov 11th I attended a talk withĀ Juan SanchezĀ discussing the work in his solo exhibit āWhatās the Meaning of This?ā (currently on display at BRIC).
Image courtesy of bricartsmedia.org
Sanchez is a prominent Nuyorican artist (I had to look this up: it refers to the community of Puerto Rican immigrants or migrants and their descendants living in New York) and his work encompasses themes of race, class, culture, community, and identity. This was my first introduction to him and I was blown awayā his collages are deceptively beautiful at first glance, but upon closer inspection the nuances bear heartbreaking, often graphic tributes to his subjects. His work is both brutal and fearless; relentlessly honest and compassionate. He compels us to stare into theĀ face of loss, murder, death and sacrifice and to question the meaning for ourselves. At the end of the evening, I think what impressed me the most was the powerful yet natural bond between art and politics in his work. He makes it look so easy.
The following evening I attended a roundtable discussion at Brooklyn Museum hosted by the Sackler Center āWe Wanted a Revolution.ā The premise of the discussion was the politics of feminism and art in the 70ās surrounding both race and class. The panelists wereĀ Linda Goode Bryant,Ā Maren Hassinger,Ā Dindga McCannon,Ā Lorraine OāGradyĀ (Howardena Pindell was unable to attend).
ImageĀ courtesy of Sackler Center @feministart
Again, I was introduced to art and creators I had never heard of before, and I was completely inspired by this group of strong, brilliant (devastatingly intelligent) women who were each artists, activists and feminists in their own rightĀ (one can argue that the last two traits are inherent if you are a female artist).
One of the things that struck me from both of these nights was the fact that they centered around artists of color who have been actively practicing their art for yearsĀ āĀ decades, in fact. While most of these artists have garnered relative success and are greatly respected within the art community, each is still categorically under-represented in the art world at largeāa fact which underlines the gaping void of color in American art history. These voices (of all colors and cultural backgrounds) are so important and completely relevant to who we are. They areĀ crucial voices. We need them. We also need to realize that they are not āemergingā voices. They arenāt coming out of nowhere. They have been there the entire time, shouting into the void. Itās time to listen.
āTheseĀ are not āemergingā voices. They arenāt coming out of nowhere. They have been there the entire time, shouting into the void. Itās time to listen.
And maybe we finally are.Ā This articleĀ has been circulating the social outletsĀ this week; itās about the rise of black artistsā work being shown in museums and galleries. It definitely resonates with both of the talks I attended and seems to reflect a larger trend. There is hope that this movement will transcend fad and have staying power; that these overlooked voices will finally be given the (long overdue) amplification they deserve.
Note: This is the part where it is easy to start criticizingā¦the phrase ātoo little, too lateā comes leaping to mind, bold and in all caps. But to paraphrase the gracious words of Dindga McCannon during the Brooklyn museum panel: better too late than not at all. Iām glad the tide is starting to turn. And itās exciting to be part of the conversationāeven if itās just listening in (at the really amazing art talks I have access toā¦god, I love this city).