Representations of Slavery in Contemporary Art

Yesterday marked the first of many events to be hosted by the African-American Studies program this academic year as they examine this year’s theme, Flipping the Script: Reinscribing Identity Through the Performing Arts. To begin the discussion was Tony Horne, Professor of Directing and Musical Theatre at the University of Wisconsin and Director of the theatrical production, “Gem of the Ocean,” a play written by August Wilson that opens this Friday (9/23) at Playhouse on the Square. While listening to his discussion on Wilson and how he used black colonial history to construct critical narratives in his plays, I began to find vast similarities between him and a sizeable group of contemporary African-American visual artists. Immediately coming to mind are the likes of Glenn Ligon, Carrie Mae Weams, and Kara Walker, the foremost being who I briefly discussed during the event.

By utilizing historic imagery, photography and caricature, these artists recontexualize our understanding and relationship to the dark crevices of slavery. The formal differences these works have speak heavily to their respective creators and their individual interests as artists; however, they each share a commonality in their warped application and (as a result) representation of historic iconography.

Glenn Ligon, Untitled from Runaways, Lithograph, 1993

In Runaways, Ligon references the imagery and style of nineteenth century runaway slave posters. The text consists of descriptions of the artist’s physical appearance and habits as described by a close friend. The imagery, although contextually unrelated to those historic posters of lost slaves, becomes definitively similar to them nonetheless, an unsettling and uncanny realization for both the artist and the viewer. On these works, Ligon states the following on Moma.org: “I would say, in general, that this series is about the power of language to reinterpret the visual image.” The language plays a role in this work by juxtaposing the relationship between a would-be slaveowner and his lost slave with Ligon and his closest friends.

Similar to Ligon’s use of language, Carrie Mae Weams applies text to photography in simultaneously graphic ways. The following is a link to her 1995-1996 piece entitled, “From Here I Saw What Happened and I Cried”:

http://carriemaeweems.net/galleries/from-here.html

In this collection of 33 altered prints, Weams layers jarring text atop visceral, red-tinted prints of African slaves and contemporary depictions of blacks. The text is subversively blunt for a reason; she’s demanding that the viewer interact with her image-paired text in order to further understand the grave effects slavery had on the construction of racism, as well as the defacement of an indigenous people. The text is written by Weams herself, however it is intended to be understood through the eyes of the native African woman who frames the collection of photographs. The chilling effect is a consideration of slavery from the oppressed lens, a lens that was and continues to be generally overlooked.

Kara Walker, MY COMPLEMENT, MY ENEMY, MY OPPRESSOR, MY LOVE, 1994

In Kara Walker’s large wall installations, the representation of antebellum slave life is shamelessly depicted through caricature of slaves, slaveholders, plantation landscapes, and objects. Through her large-scale black cutouts of dense and highly suggestive imagery, Walker creates a critique of slave history that ignites conversation. The following comes from the Whitney Museum regarding her work: “Walker has invented a repertoire of powerful narratives in which she conflates fact and fiction to uncover the living roots of racial and gender bias. The intricacy of her imagination and her diligent command of art history have caused her silhouettes to cast shadows on conventional thinking about race representation in the context of discrimination, exclusion, sexual desire, and love.” (Whitney.org)

These artists use varying techniques and methods to demonstrate and reinterpret slavery, as we currently know it. How do these images change our understanding and relationship to a history we all are so distanced from? The physical manifestations of these images are powerful responses from these artists. Their understanding of both themselves and their past is visually represented for the rest of the art world (and hopefully, THE world) to internalize and interpret.

I’ll leave you all with this, a link to an article published in Art in America earlier this year on a rising internet phenom and pseudo-art critic, Jayson Musson, aka. Hennessy Youngman. In the interview, one of his videos entitled “How to be a Successful Black Artist” is extensively discussed. I recommend the video if you can handle its nature. I’d like to hear your thoughts on how he sees the artwork of black artists through his semi-satirical, unconventional-yet-discoursive-art-critic lenses.

http://www.artinamericamagazine.com/news-opinion/conversations/2011-03-24/hennessey-youngman-youtube/