Date: Monday, November 12, 2007By: Deborah Mathis, BlackAmericaWeb.com
Back in the 1960s, when the Little Rock School District built a spanking new building for some of its white elementary students, black first through sixth graders got the leftover school -- Rightsell Elementary. We discovered that, among other things, the previous population had taken the playground equipment with them. We were left with a wide, stripped field with patches of concrete here and there where playthings used to be anchored.
Our all-black student body, all-black faculty and all-black PTA made lemonade out of the lemons. The grown-ups bought us bats and balls, and, at recesses, we kids got good at softball and dodge ball.
Making do was nothing new for black people in those days. Nor is it now.
In Nashville, a place of much higher learning than the rudimentary Rightsell, is finding its students, faculty and patrons wringing their hands and taxing their imaginations in hopes of making do yet another year.
Fisk University is 141 years old, but time has yet to turn an old struggle obsolete. In its fifth year of existence, the school’s chorus -- the Jubilee Singers -- set out to travel the world and, hopefully, to raise money so their institution could stay open. It worked, and the Jubilee Singers became -- and have been since -- world renowned.
Of course, these times require much more of an institution if it is to remain viable, and singing tours don’t cut it. Students -- and accrediting bodies -- demand modern facilities and top-notch faculty, neither of which comes cheap. You can’t pay a highly credentialed professor with room and board anymore.
Already built on a wing and a prayer, HBCUs have never recovered from desegregation at white schools, which had the unintended consequence of erasing the primary appeal of black schools; they were the only recourse for the black college-bound in many cases, and there was a lot more competition.
Sadly, Fisk is past the running-low-on-cash stage; its operating fund is expected to run dry before the year is out. The endowment has been spent, and raising tuition won’t do the trick.
Like other predominantly black schools, Fisk has turned to desperate measures. It has cut a deal with a new art museum in Bentonville, Ark., to sell half-ownership of the Stieglitz art collection -- a prized donation to Fisk from the famous painter Georgia O’Keeffe in memory of her photographer husband, Alfred Stieglitz. Alice Walton, the daughter of Wal-Mart creator Sam Walton and founder of the Crystal Bridges Museum, has also offered $1 million to Fisk for renovating its art gallery.
There are 101 works in the Stieglitz collection. If the 50-50 deal goes through, Fisk will get about $30 million from Crystal Bridges. That means that, in a square deal, the total collection would price out at around $60 million. But, according to experts, one particular painting in the group titled “Radiator Building-Night” is alone valued at more than $20 million. All of a sudden, the $30 million deal sounds less sweet.
Wait, there’s more.
The O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe represents the artist’s estate, and it says Ms. O’Keeffe specified that the Stieglitz collection could never be sold or exchanged. At the same time, it agreed to one sale earlier this year, provided that Fisk sell “Radiator” to the O’Keeffe Museum for $7.5 million. Fortunately, a judge refused to let that corrupt bargain go through.
This is a heartbreaking but common tale. A black institution, established for all the right reasons and as a show of faith and self-determination in the midst of formidable odds, has to fight all of its life. Never mind that it takes licking after licking and manages to survive. Never mind that some of the great minds of our age are its produce. Never mind the perseverance it instills, the ignorance it vanquishes and the talent it nourishes. Let it flail and flounder. Let it sink or swim. And plunder the spoils while you’re at it.
As The Tennessean editorialized recently, “Fisk is a priceless gem. A $30 million offer for that artwork, as big as it sounds, should be an insult to Nashville and the innermost feelings of the university.”
A time-work insult, as it turns out.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The artist who's simply telling 'Ourstory'
These stunning examples of art are those of Opio Yaw Asante, whose 30 years of creativity can be seen at an exhibition in north London.
'Ourstory' is an exhibition of painting, sculpture and installation at The Gallery, Willesden.The show represents three decades of work by the artist, whose birth name was Horace Donovan. His parents made the journey to the 'motherland' in the hope of improving their lives, and Opio was brought up in Jamaica by his aunt.
He chose the name 'Opio', which is Congolese and means 'liberated', and 'Yaw' which is Ghanaian Asante for 'Thursday-born'. In 1981 he came to England and studied at the Chelsea College of Art and Design, where he trained as a ceramicist, and made earthenware and terracotta sculptures.
He met other black artists who were committed to art with a political edge, such as Keith Piper and Eddy Chambers. One meeting place was the Black Arts Gallery in Finsbury Park, and it was there that Opio was commissioned to create a bust of Marcus Garvey, which remains one of his finest works, and has an intensity and individuality of expression rarely seen in public art.
He was a descendent of the Maroons in Jamaica, who maintained their independence during the colonial period, led by Queen Nanny, and there is a portrait of her in the exhibition. There is also an ancestral altar, which pays tribute to those who perished on the slave ships, and to those who fought for political justice, such as Marcus Garvey, Paul Bogle and Queen Nanny.
The Igbo culture of Nigeria is also reflected in two 'mask' paintings.The first shows three masks, which are based upon Igbo masks, which are part of a rite-of-passage initiation ceremony into the 'masquerade' society. There should be four Igbo souls, as four is the number of prosperity. Here, the second image of the fourth Igbo mask is separated from the others and has lost its purpose: it is abandoned and broken. The masquerade has fallen on the ground. A visiting Igbo woman looking at these pictures said, "You are touching my soul."
'Ourstory' exhibition continues until November 2 at The Gallery, Willesden Green Library Centre, 95 High Road, London NW10 2SF.
Tuesday to Thursday, 2:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m., and Friday to Monday, 2:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.
Published: 30 October 2007Issue: 1293
Sweet Struggle
Written by Kevin Mellema
Northern Virginia Art Beat
Thursday, 01 November 2007
San Francisco photographer Andrea Reed, a 2003 psychology grad from Howard University, has a series of 10 diptych portraits on display at Target Gallery. At first blush it's a fairly simple lot. All the photos are shot against the same crimson background, with all the characters in minstrel-show-type exaggerated “black face,” and staring straight at the viewer.
Far from true portraiture, these images are in fact portraits of characters, or more specifically, characterizations we have in our heads of the modern African-American community at large. Coupled with their simple style, and punchy imagery, they remind one of Annie Leibovitz's work for Rolling Stone. Reed's African Americans in black face have a disquieting impression from the word “go.” Chromatically speaking, we are all variations on brown. There are the pinkish beige people, the reddish beige people, the yellow tinted beige people, the olive tinted beige people, the dark beige people, and the really dark beige people (call it sepia, or burnt umber). But there are no “Black” people, or “White” people. The sight of African Americans in black face drives the point home. They are not black. In the same way, the implication is there that the stereotypes are also not true. Reed portrays our most base assumptions and stereotypes about African-Americans and throws them out the window at the same time. In effect she shouts “This is what you think of us!” And unfortunately, it is also on some level what African Americans think of their own people.
The milieu is not complete per se. We don't see the womanizing male, the NBA dreamer or the dandied strutting pimp, to name but a few. On the other hand, 10 stereotypes seem plenty for us to take in and get the message. Some images seem a tad too simple and easily grasped, while others have a depth of complexity that draws you in and sets your mind to thinking about how this one is going to sort itself out.
“Brother's Keeper” has enough spin on the ball to make it compellingly powerful. Here we see two black males in muscle T-shirts — one black, one white. The black T-shirted male holds his right arm straight out to the side, the picture edge crops the image roughly around his wrist. The left diptych panel picks up the story and shows a big African-American hand holding a pistol to the head of another African American's head. The scale jump implies the increased power in the hand that holds the pistol.
Interestingly enough, the white T-shirted male, we can only assume representing “good.” is being threatened or about to be killed by the “bad” black T-shirted male. Neither man notices the other, each with their eyes locked onto ours. If ever there were an image of stupid mindless violence this would seem to fit the bill.
Two images that deal with African-American self-image and an attempt to assimilate, or adopt the beauty standards of Caucasians, would be “The Bluest Eye” and “Dirty Blonde.” “The Bluest Eye” shows a large African-American female with one blue contact in, and the other one about to be put in. It's an image that makes you want to scream “Stop!” The blue contacts will not make her beautiful or desirable, they simply make her look insecure and frankly a tad bizarre. The photo also seems to be showing how visions of beauty are artificially forced upon us, and how we sometimes see ourselves through the standards of others. Similarly, but with a bit of opposite spin on the ball, “Dirty Blonde” seems one of the most compelling images here. This African-American female holds her arm out to the side, running off camera again. In the left panel the story is completed by a hand, two fingers of which hold up a blonde wig by a few hairs, as if it were a dead rat found on the ground. Held at arms length away from her, she is obviously not having anything to do with this “white women's hair” ... or is she? The complexity comes in when you notice that several of her own ringlets have indeed been bleached blonde. Assimilation is an easy thing to do, and a nearly impossible thing to totally avoid no matter how hard you try.
You are a part of your surroundings, no matter how hard you try to throw them off. You could, for example, go around speaking only French, but you aren't going to have many people understanding you when you want something. We're all connected in assorted little ways that make us all part of the human continuum. Which, of course, is what makes stereotypes such as these so difficult to throw off.
Reed is doing her part to show that they don't exactly fit, and to whatever extent they do fit, the African-American community needs to work on changing, because this is not how any group of people should go through life ... certainly not generation after generation.
Note: Reception with the artist is part of Old Town Alexandria's “Second Thursday” night art events, November 8, from 6 - 8 p.m.
Photos by Andrea Ellen Reed. Through December 2, at Target Gallery in the Torpedo Factory Art Center (105 North Union St., Alexandria). Gallery hours: Wednesday through Sunday, Noon - 5 p.m. 703-838-4565x4, or see www.torpedofactory.org.
Northern Virginia Art Beat
Thursday, 01 November 2007
San Francisco photographer Andrea Reed, a 2003 psychology grad from Howard University, has a series of 10 diptych portraits on display at Target Gallery. At first blush it's a fairly simple lot. All the photos are shot against the same crimson background, with all the characters in minstrel-show-type exaggerated “black face,” and staring straight at the viewer.
Far from true portraiture, these images are in fact portraits of characters, or more specifically, characterizations we have in our heads of the modern African-American community at large. Coupled with their simple style, and punchy imagery, they remind one of Annie Leibovitz's work for Rolling Stone. Reed's African Americans in black face have a disquieting impression from the word “go.” Chromatically speaking, we are all variations on brown. There are the pinkish beige people, the reddish beige people, the yellow tinted beige people, the olive tinted beige people, the dark beige people, and the really dark beige people (call it sepia, or burnt umber). But there are no “Black” people, or “White” people. The sight of African Americans in black face drives the point home. They are not black. In the same way, the implication is there that the stereotypes are also not true. Reed portrays our most base assumptions and stereotypes about African-Americans and throws them out the window at the same time. In effect she shouts “This is what you think of us!” And unfortunately, it is also on some level what African Americans think of their own people.
The milieu is not complete per se. We don't see the womanizing male, the NBA dreamer or the dandied strutting pimp, to name but a few. On the other hand, 10 stereotypes seem plenty for us to take in and get the message. Some images seem a tad too simple and easily grasped, while others have a depth of complexity that draws you in and sets your mind to thinking about how this one is going to sort itself out.
“Brother's Keeper” has enough spin on the ball to make it compellingly powerful. Here we see two black males in muscle T-shirts — one black, one white. The black T-shirted male holds his right arm straight out to the side, the picture edge crops the image roughly around his wrist. The left diptych panel picks up the story and shows a big African-American hand holding a pistol to the head of another African American's head. The scale jump implies the increased power in the hand that holds the pistol.
Interestingly enough, the white T-shirted male, we can only assume representing “good.” is being threatened or about to be killed by the “bad” black T-shirted male. Neither man notices the other, each with their eyes locked onto ours. If ever there were an image of stupid mindless violence this would seem to fit the bill.
Two images that deal with African-American self-image and an attempt to assimilate, or adopt the beauty standards of Caucasians, would be “The Bluest Eye” and “Dirty Blonde.” “The Bluest Eye” shows a large African-American female with one blue contact in, and the other one about to be put in. It's an image that makes you want to scream “Stop!” The blue contacts will not make her beautiful or desirable, they simply make her look insecure and frankly a tad bizarre. The photo also seems to be showing how visions of beauty are artificially forced upon us, and how we sometimes see ourselves through the standards of others. Similarly, but with a bit of opposite spin on the ball, “Dirty Blonde” seems one of the most compelling images here. This African-American female holds her arm out to the side, running off camera again. In the left panel the story is completed by a hand, two fingers of which hold up a blonde wig by a few hairs, as if it were a dead rat found on the ground. Held at arms length away from her, she is obviously not having anything to do with this “white women's hair” ... or is she? The complexity comes in when you notice that several of her own ringlets have indeed been bleached blonde. Assimilation is an easy thing to do, and a nearly impossible thing to totally avoid no matter how hard you try.
You are a part of your surroundings, no matter how hard you try to throw them off. You could, for example, go around speaking only French, but you aren't going to have many people understanding you when you want something. We're all connected in assorted little ways that make us all part of the human continuum. Which, of course, is what makes stereotypes such as these so difficult to throw off.
Reed is doing her part to show that they don't exactly fit, and to whatever extent they do fit, the African-American community needs to work on changing, because this is not how any group of people should go through life ... certainly not generation after generation.
Note: Reception with the artist is part of Old Town Alexandria's “Second Thursday” night art events, November 8, from 6 - 8 p.m.
Photos by Andrea Ellen Reed. Through December 2, at Target Gallery in the Torpedo Factory Art Center (105 North Union St., Alexandria). Gallery hours: Wednesday through Sunday, Noon - 5 p.m. 703-838-4565x4, or see www.torpedofactory.org.
Miami U. police remove display of nooses in tree
By Lisa Cornwell
Associated Press
Student complaints prompted police at Miami University to take down a student art display consisting of seven nooses and a tire swing hung from a tree.
University officials said the artists apparently did not intend to be racist.
Three students said they created the display as a group art project, Jeffrey Herbst, Miami's provost and executive vice president, said Wednesday, a day after the display was dismantled.
"They said it was intended as an art project that juxtaposed childhood and death, with the tire swing symbolizing childhood and nooses representing death," Herbst said. "We believe that. But we also believe - given the symbols used - that it was insensitive to the community."
Herbst said the students have apologized. The university did not release their names.
Miami University President David Hodge has ordered an investigation.
"Regardless of what the intent was, the noose conjures up images from the past that evoke real emotion and that has to be addressed," said Matt Boaz, director of the Office of Equity and Equal Opportunity at Miami, which seeks to eliminate harassment and discrimination on campus.
Hodge wrote in an e-mail to students, faculty and staff Tuesday night that he was troubled by the incident and the insensitivity he said it reflected.
Nooses have been used to symbolize the lynchings of blacks.
"Our African-American student population is definitely frustrated by this whole event," said Gerald Yearwood, adviser to the Black Student Action Association at Miami, said. "You would think that people would be more sensitive and have more awareness of the symbolism involved."
The president of the Association of Black Faculty and Staff at Miami approves of the university's preliminary response and is working with the administration to plan campus meetings and other ways of addressing the issue.
"I was very distressed when students who discovered the display called me about it," said association president Jhan Doughty Berry. "They were very saddened by the experience and afraid since they weren't sure what was meant by the display, and we have been talking with them to be sure they are OK."
Associated Press
Student complaints prompted police at Miami University to take down a student art display consisting of seven nooses and a tire swing hung from a tree.
University officials said the artists apparently did not intend to be racist.
Three students said they created the display as a group art project, Jeffrey Herbst, Miami's provost and executive vice president, said Wednesday, a day after the display was dismantled.
"They said it was intended as an art project that juxtaposed childhood and death, with the tire swing symbolizing childhood and nooses representing death," Herbst said. "We believe that. But we also believe - given the symbols used - that it was insensitive to the community."
Herbst said the students have apologized. The university did not release their names.
Miami University President David Hodge has ordered an investigation.
"Regardless of what the intent was, the noose conjures up images from the past that evoke real emotion and that has to be addressed," said Matt Boaz, director of the Office of Equity and Equal Opportunity at Miami, which seeks to eliminate harassment and discrimination on campus.
Hodge wrote in an e-mail to students, faculty and staff Tuesday night that he was troubled by the incident and the insensitivity he said it reflected.
Nooses have been used to symbolize the lynchings of blacks.
"Our African-American student population is definitely frustrated by this whole event," said Gerald Yearwood, adviser to the Black Student Action Association at Miami, said. "You would think that people would be more sensitive and have more awareness of the symbolism involved."
The president of the Association of Black Faculty and Staff at Miami approves of the university's preliminary response and is working with the administration to plan campus meetings and other ways of addressing the issue.
"I was very distressed when students who discovered the display called me about it," said association president Jhan Doughty Berry. "They were very saddened by the experience and afraid since they weren't sure what was meant by the display, and we have been talking with them to be sure they are OK."
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