Art is a lasting symbol for Black culture
Lately, I have been directly confronting the inevitable anxieties that come from pursuing a Bachelor of Art degree in art: Will this be beneficial in my future? Can I make a career out of my artwork? Will I be left forever selling pieces on the streets of Los Angeles living off nothing but 50 cent ramen, desperation and regret for banking on my passion instead of something more “secure?” Phew. I hope not.
Thankfully, in the midst of these all-consuming, impostor syndrome-induced thoughts, came an incredible, but equally stressful opportunity: co-curating and making pieces for my own art exhibition.
Every spring semester, the Roski School of Art and Design offers a range of prizes and exhibitions for students to apply to from mid-February to the end of March, one of which is Independent Student Exhibitions. After being made aware of these amazing opportunities during the second semester of my sophomore year, I was instantly inspired to apply. It finally seemed like the perfect opportunity to display my work and feel as though there was a purpose for my art, an avenue into kick-starting my future desires.
After a long few weeks of brainstorming and a healthy amount of procrastination — we may or may not have submitted the application on the exact date it was due — my exhibition partner and fellow Roski student, Angel Itua and I, put together a statement and collective portfolio of our work to submit to the Roski School Exhibition Committee.
The theme came easily enough to us. As two Black art students, we had an instantaneous mutual agreement to maintain Blackness at the forefront of the exhibition. Rarely do I see Black art in a collective space depicted in a manner that feels equally representative and welcoming — though I would like to commemorate the California African American Museum for their success in doing so. We not only wanted to highlight injustices and oppression through our pieces, but simultaneously celebrate and honor Black diasporic cultures and its aesthetics.
Thus, “The Black Experience” was born.
“The Black Experience” as an art exhibition felt vital. One of the biggest things that propelled this show was the necessity for asserting a space that offers Black representation by Black people. Far too often I see Black history and theory being taught from the mouths of non-Black people. There are far too few Black students and professors in my courses. There is far too much Black art that is represented that solely focuses on the narratives of slavery and its lasting impressions — when Kara Walker is the only Black artist mentioned in my courses, there is a glaring issue.
Actively creating Black space on our own terms becomes a form of resistance to the confines of the intensely Eurocentric — and derivatively heteronormative and patriarchal — art world. Black histories, extending to artifacts and arts, have been erased, neglected, manipulated and rejected for centuries. Birthed was a form of agency for me personally to depict what my experiences are like as a Black woman in a manner that feels both holistic and personally intimate. I refuse to have my narratives written by anyone other than myself, which is a much more daunting task than it may appear to be due to the lack of reception of Black art in institutional art spaces like galleries and museums.
Creatively, one of the things I had been struggling with before the formation of “The Black Experience” was contributing to the canon of Black oppression pieces. It felt as though my identity could only be defined through marginalization because that was the most conceptually profound thing I could think of that related to me and my work. Colorism, misogynoir and fetishization always plagued my works, never themes of celebration, pride or commemoration.
However, now as an artist I can say that being Black is enough. Being a Black woman has and will always influence the work that I create, but focusing on something as seemingly mundane as having textured hair or dark skin can be equally as impactful as depicting how institutional racism specifically targets Black women in the beauty industry. This process allowed me to find a voice in my work and put it into direct conversation with another creative for the public. I could not be more content.
Blackness has become a powerful tool to be yielded in order to redefine what was once appropriated or obscure what was once forced into definition. The continued presence and prominence of Black art continues the much larger cultural action of reclaiming Black identities, narratives and culture.
David Zwirner, an art dealer with an essay featured in The New York Times on art’s vitality for human existence and progression, details how art is at the center of our lives and is a pinnacle for culture. He writes, “I believe [art’s] most gratifying as an intellectual pursuit. Great art is … complex, and it expects work from us when we engage with it … Great works carry with them so many messages and meanings. And often those messages survive for centuries. Or — even more mysteriously — they change as the years and decades pass, leaving their power and import somehow undiminished.”
Zwirner goes on to assert that art is an experience that is communal, one that brings us together, stating “I would contend that art and culture are the most important vehicles by which we come to understand one another. They make us curious about that which is different or unfamiliar, and ultimately allow us to accept it, even embrace it.”
What I desire to come from this exhibition is just that: an awakening for viewers inside the gallery that consequently produces a conversation that can transcend beyond its physical space. After all, art has always been a facilitator for cultural commentary and documentation. Bringing the community together — with emphasis on the Black community — to ignite this particular cultural moment is the goal.
Support Black creatives, support Black art.