
Within the past week here in Chicago there have been no less than two panel discussions on race and art production. More specifically these panel discussions (with vocal audience exchanges) looked at black art and black art production, or as yesterday's panel at the University of Chicago (in conjunction with the exhibition Black Is/Black Ain't) was entitled, "Post Black: There and Back Again." Thursday night's program at the Experimental Station, which was organized by Theaster Gates as part of the "Representations" series on culture, politics, and aesthetics, was entitled "Black Enough?"
Both of these gatherings were lively, engaging, and variously informative, and provided a much needed forum for the airing of ideas that usually take place away from the light of public discourse. Kind of like those statements we've seen coming out of the pulpit of Trinity United Methodist Church, also here in Chicago, that are unusual only for their public airing beyond the black social sphere. The expressions of Pfleger and Wright are actually quite typical grist at any black barber shop in America on a Saturday afternoon, and--contrary to the media's heated response to them--are not considered remarkable, inflammatory, or anything else other than routine highly performative and embellished expressions of current events as seen through a black lens. And white though he may be, Pfleger has long been a stalwart advocate and presence in the South Side Chicago black community, and is much a part of the social fabric there. The two panels were, of course, more academic than the pulpit segments aired endlessly in the media, but no less engaging for again bringing to light issues that don't receive a lot of public scrutiny or discourse.
Anyway, race has been very much in the air here in Chicago lately. And when the discussion turns to "what we need to do," being from New York I always think about the Studio Museum in Harlem. Because way back in the day, some forty years ago, some folks got together in NY and decided what needed to be done, and it has been getting done ever since. Why it hasn't been "getting done" the same way in other cities remains a question that folks in those cities might want to ask themselves.
A brief recap of the history of the Studio Museum in Harlem reveals what vision and the persistent hard work of intstitution building can do to alleviate the plight of exclusion.
• In 1967 the Studio Museum in Harlem was founded by The Junior Council of the Museum of Modern Art as part of its effort to diffuse demands for for more inclusive representation its own exhibition programming. The institution took its name and identity from a proposal that was written by the painter William T. Williams, whose idea it was to have a community museum for African Americans that also included studio space where members of the community could interact with black artists, and the artists would have the opportunity to more directly engage the community. Williams and fellow artist/sculptor Mel Edwards rolled up their sleeves, and with push brooms and much sweat cleared the light industrial loft space--then located over a Kentucky Fried Chicken-- in preparation for repurposing it into studios and exhibition space. In 1969 the museum mounted an exhibition, "X to the Fourth Power" that featured to work of Williams, Mel Edwards, Sam Gilliam, and Steven Kelsey (a white artist). The museum has been continually exhibiting works by black artists ever since that time.
• The great Trinidadian painter (and poet) LeRoy Clark became the first artist-in-residence at the museum, then under the direction of Ed Spriggs, in 1971. He was joined by Lloyd Stevens and Valerie Maynard. Every year since then the museum has hosted three artists-in-residence, providing an annual stipend, and a well publicized and attended exhibition at the end of the residency period. Count three artists a year times thirty-seven years, and you begin to get some sense of the profound impact this institution has had in supporting and nurturing artists of color. A very brief list would include (from the early years to more recent times) Willie Birch and David Hammons, Terry Adkins, Candida Alvarez, Maren Hassinger, Charles Burwell, Renee Green, Willie Cole, Alison Saar, Chakaia Booker, Nari Ward, Leonardo Drew, Kehinde Wiley, Julie Mehretu, Mickalene Thomas, Titus Kaphar, Demetrius Oliver, Wardell Milan, Wangechi Mutu, and numerous others. The museum has long understood the value of public relations, and the AIR exhibitions are usually reviewed (favorably) in the New York Times. The success that these SMH/AIR artists achieved can be traced directly to their nurturing and exposure at SMH, and of course their own talent.
• The museum moved to increasingly professionalize its operations under the direction of Dr. Mary Schmidt Campbell (from 1977-1987) and began an extensive publishing program that continues to this day, with publications documentation its various exhibitions. These publication often created scholarship and documentation which previously had not existed for a number of African American artists, historical and contemporary. Barkley Hendricks, whose work I first saw at SMH in a early one person show there in the mid-1970s, is now experiencing a "revival," meaning the larger world is finally catching up to him belatedly, will have a traveling survey exhibition, "Birth of the Cool," at SMH next year, completing a circle some thirty-three years in the making. The show originated at Duke's Nasher Museum under the guidance of the Nasher's Trevor Schoonmaker, with catalogue contributions from black art historians/curators Rick Powell (Duke U's Dr. Richard J. Powell to you), Thelma Golden, and the Menil Collection's Franklin Sirmans.
• In the early 1980s the museum created an annual program, "The Fine Art of Collecting," with the expressed purpose of developing connoisseurship and a collecting base for the works of black artists. Beginning collectors were introduced over several weeks to the wide range of historical and contemporary African American art with which they could begin or augment their collections. This program--which continues still--has created a whole group of collectors who continue to be patrons and collecters of black artist's works.
• Through a succession of directors (Ed Spriggs, Courtney Callender, Dr. Mary Schmidt Campbell, Kinshasha Holman Conwill, Lowery Stokes Sims, and now Thelma Golden) the museum has also created and nurtured generations of black curators and museum educators as well. I can think of precious few African American curators over the age of thirty who did not initially or previously hone their craft at SMH. They continue to populate the wider field, bringing black artists along with them.
• Over the years the museum has continued to build audiences for non-visual forms of black expression as well, with musical performances and poetry readings among them. I distinctly recall hearing the saxophoinst David Murray for the first time at SMH when he arrived in NY from California in the mid-1970s. Earlier still I had my first powerful experience hearing the poet Audre Lourde read her work at the museum, along with June Jordan and numerous others. Vocalist (and actress) Novella Nelson (with Leopoldo Fleming on percussion) held forth there as well in the early days. This expansive programming continues.
• And yes, they've got a great Museum Store, where you can purchase numerous books, monographs, and catalogues on the works of African disaporal artists, including many of the Studio Museum's own fine roster of publications, early and recent. They also have decorative and wearable items as well, many made by independent black designers and artisans, from Harlem and elsewhere, thereby creating a market for their work as well.
Certainly there is much to be learned from the example of the Studio Museum in Harlem. That there isn't a single other African American museum in this country that has been able to successfully use it--and its various component pieces--as a model for creating, building, and sustaining similarly powerful and enduring institutions throughout the country should really give pause to those black artists living outside of New York. William T. Williams' initiative should show that--then and now--it's not about waiting for "somebody else" to do it.
Photograph: Laura Hooper
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