Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Triple 'A' Monday - Grant Wood and Regionalism

During the late 80's and into the early 90's when I was still trying to figure this art thing out (I'm a little closer), I embarked on a semi-literate journey to explore works of art and artists that I had always heard of, but knew little of. One of the pieces that warranted investigation was 'American Gothic' by Grant Wood. Few people outside of the art world know the work by name, but I can assure you that everyone knows the painting on sight. It is as iconic as it gets:




Though I love the painting, what endeared me to this work was the story behind the canvas:

Grant Wood was born in 1891 in Iowa and studied at the Art Institute of Chicago. After WWI he traveled to Europe and was influenced by the technique used by Jan Van Eyck, a 16th century Flemish oil painter. During the 20's, he became one of three artists (Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri and John Steuart Curry of Kansas) known for their aggressive rejection of the european abstract movement in favor of more figurative and representational art that depicted surrounding urban and rural life. The idea of painting your immediate surroundings came to be labeled as 'regionalism'. In a phrase - paint what you know. What they knew was the midwest. Grant was drawn to the visual of the gothic revival style seen on a cottage (the upper window reflects the gothic medieval pointed arch) and wondered what 'kind of people' would live there. Using his sister, Nan, as a model for the woman and his dentist for the farmer, the painting reflected the rural lifestyle and informs the work.

The painting was displayed at an exhibition at the Art institute of Chicago in 1930. Grant won $300 for the painting and as they say, the rest is history. 
The 26" x 31" oil has come to represent Americana and has been satirized on many fronts which tells you how deeply ingrained in American lore it has become as well as being a primary symbol of the regionalist movement.

The concept behind 'regionalism' really hit home. I wasn't so much interested in the visuals of Americana, but rather, the theoretical planks in the movement's platform -
paint what you know. I understood and interpreted this to mean that if I wanted to connect with my audience in an authentic way, I needed to infuse my work with imagery and ideas that gave the viewer greater insight into what I knew. And what did I know - what was my brand of regionalism...Black America. That was to be my point of view. I felt so strongly about this approach to art that I illustrated it an early painting titled 'Point of View'.


"Point of View"
55" x 80"
silkscreen on canvas

What I declared with this piece was plain and straightforward - I don't care what's on the audience side of the canvas (which is why I painted it black) - this here ain't about you, I'm not painting to please you, nor am I painting to sell anything to you - I'm painting for me. That's me behind the canvas, eyeing, spying and seeing the world from a new perspective through the art. Everything I've painted since then attempts to duplicate this simple philosophy - use my art to illustrate my perspective as a black man in America. Pull the audience behind the canvas and let them see what I see, hear what I hear, feel, question, challenge, accept, reject or interpret. They may not understand it at times, but hey, sometimes I don't either which is why I often use the canvas to ask myself and others those questions.

As an homage to a philosophy that would guide me throughout my career as well as a sincere 'thank you' to Grant Wood and 'regionalism', I painted 'Black American Gothic'.  



"Black American Gothic" (original)

This was my take on Wood's classic. He used the image of the farmer and spinster daughter to illustrate his world, I used Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben. The story of Black America is one of slavery, survival, transformation and adaptation. To me, nothing reflected that more than Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima. Who were they? Madison Avenue's version of fictional characters based on factual lives to market products. The history of rice production in the American south and its association with slavery is well documented. So is the use of 'uncle' to refer to old black men (Uncle Tom - Uncle Remus, etc). The same applied to Aunt Jemima. They represented docile domestic acceptance on the part of whites and as such became effective pitchmen.

Later on I looked at this piece and decided to update it in three separate paintings bearing the same title 'Black American Gothic'. 


 It slowly dawned on me that Oprah Winfrey and Colin Powell had now replaced the former duo as America's most trusted faces. As a disclaimer, I have nothing against Oprah or Colin (what a great name!) - I simply used them to illustrate a point. I also added Tiger Woods to the mix to complete the 'family' motif. Oprah and Tiger are two of the biggest brands in the world of marketing and Colin Powell, one of the most 'trusted' blacks in America, so much so that he was used by the Bush administration to sell the Iraq war to the United Nations and the American public. 

So there you have it. Now you know why Grant Wood is one of my favorite artists and has informed and influenced my outlook on art. 

Monday, October 4, 2010

Studio's are for Pu**y's

Sorry about the long lapse - been doing what I try to do best - paint! I have two exhibits approaching fast - 'Subjective Perception' at Benedict College, a solo, and a group exhibit I was recently invited to participate in at the I.P. Standack Museum at SC State University in Orangeburg, SC. I have already chronicled the problems (in a roundabout way to protect the innocent) with the exhibition at Benedict in previous posts. The exhibit at SCSU is a thick one dealing with some heavy stuff. Here is the overview:

"On Friday, October 22, 2010 at 6 PM, during SC State’s Homecoming Weekend, 
SC State’s I.P. Stanback Museum and Planetarium will open its next exhibition, Partnership in Social Justice featuring Beyond Swastika and Jim Crow: Jewish Refugee Scholars at Black Colleges, created and circulated by the Museum of Jewish Heritage - A Living Memorial to the Holocaust; and Transcending the Legacy of Slavery and the Holocaust an art exhibition organized by the Idea Coalition. The exhibition continues through Jan. 4, 2011."

SCSU will be exhibiting a couple pieces that I donated to them years ago, and I will also add three more images. I 'm in the process of finishing three new images for the Benedict show. I wanted to do a rather large magazine cover that's been in my head for quite some time now and would be perfect for the SCSU exhibit, but alas, I will not have the time to render it, so there it will remain until I decide to unleash it. I also have to go to Winston-Salem for a couple days to jury an exhibition and review portfolio's - so as you see, my time is being crunched.

Wondering about the title of this post, are you? I borrowed that phrase from a friend of mine, Valerie VanNorte, who used it on T-Shirts for a location movie shoot. I misappropriated it and applied it to my new situation. I'm back to painting in the kitchen. Between there and the garage is where all great artists live and create! ;-) 


As many of you may not know, the studio space I rented to do the 50' painting was the first one I had ever had (other than the studio at McColl during my residency). Now that the work is done, I could no longer afford it and am back to my creative roots. Rather liberating to tell you the truth. Try it sometime - it keeps you humble.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Pollice Verso...Up?

It seems that I fought bravely enough and sufficiently entertained the crowds that they spared my life and will allow another performance. The show at Benedict College is back on again. Some of the more obviously raucous works will be excluded but in the end the need to expose the audience to and have a discussion about the works allowed in represents a significant step forward for the school. The exhibit will open on October 17th with a reception to follow in a couple weeks. I'll also be doing a series of workshops (TBD) and lectures. That should be highly entertaining. 

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Benedict Art Exhibit - Pollice Verso...down!

I should be in the final stages of preparing an exhibition for viewing at Benedict College in Columbia, SC., but fortune has not favored the brave. I think those fortunes were best illustrated in one image: Pollice Verso by Jean-Léon Gérôme.


By the way - 'Pollice Verso' means 'with a turned thumb' and that's me on the ground with the foot on my neck begging the Vestal Virgins for mercy.

The exhibition has been cancelled. I prepared and posted a lengthy explanation detailing the behind the scenes specifics, but thought better of it and pulled the post late last night. There may be some fallout so I will default to the standard podium press drivel, "No comment - the investigation is ongoing." All I can say is that the consensus was my art would have been a disruptive influence on certain campus elements.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

NEW ART: NUTS!

I know I promised that each Monday I would introduce a new artist (Triple-A Monday's) that was influential to my development - but I lied! It will be every other Monday. That way I don't exhaust my supply of artists. So check back next Monday for my inspirational art moment.

To ease your pain I will introduce some new art. I'm riding a creative wave right now and will be putting out a slew of new works over the coming months
 

"NUTS"
acrylic on canvas
60" x 76"

This painting was inspired by a comment from a participant at the Innovation Institute, a creativity workshop I lead three or four times a year at McColl Center for Visual Art in Charlotte, NC.  The gentleman opened up about his frustration at being one of a few black employees in a leadership position at his company and as such, had to endure comments from whites who often regarded him as 'different' (from what exactly?). No sooner had he made this observation when the only other black person in the class of twelve (a black woman) chimed in with the same assessment and then went on to add that she felt as though were black America's press secretary. White co-workers and friends obviously had grown comfortable enough with her that they had unceremoniously bestowed upon her their highest contemporary award; 'the approachable Negro' - whose job by default is to patiently answer every idiotic and conceivable question they had about black people.

While they were venting I immediately conjured the image of Franklin, the only black resident (that I know of) in Charles Schultz cartoon world of 'Peanuts'. Pigpen may qualify but I have no confirmation on his racial status. I imagined Franklin exploiting his obvious priviledge for entrepreneurial gain by sub-leasing Lucy van Pelt's psychiatric booth and providing the residents with his PPV (Pay Per his View) service.

This is my third magazine cover painting, but the first issue of my new CQ Quarterly magazine. It's a concept that I've had for a long time and finally figured out how to accomplish it. Every three months I will produce a new cover issue dealing with a wide range of topics. My goal is to eventually offer paid subscriptions on a yearly basis (only 100) that will provide the subscriber with four high quality silkscreened prints annually. I'll wait until I have a few more completed before heading in that direction.

What I have always loved about this concept is that it allows me to exploit a variety of visual styles under one umbrella piece for continuity purposes. I can use photography, graphic design, traditional paintings, etc. on the cover and address anything that bobs up on my radar. I already have the January - March issue planned. 

Monday, September 6, 2010

'Triple-A' Monday - John Doyle

I told you last week that even though 'Triple-A' stood for 'African-American Artist', I would not limit myself to that narrow scope. To underscore this point, this week I turn my focus on an artist operating out of Charleston (notice how I didn't call him a 'Charleston' artist), John Doyle. 
John Doyle

I was discharged from the Navy in late 1987 and wanted a career in art but had no clue how to proceed. I tried to get into advertising as an illustrator, but lacked a presentable portfolio to convince any art director to hire me. While working on trying to put one together and selling shoes part-time, I landed a full time gig in the frame shop of Tidwell Art Gallery on King Street. The job was eh, but it got my feet in the door, provided a great education about how galleries worked and allowed access to many, many artists. None of them would impress me more than John Carroll Doyle.

At that time John was painting these incredible sport fishing action scenes that graced the monthly covers of Sailfish Magazine. He would have the originals photographed and then bring the print in for me to drymount and apply a transparent overlay with the magazine title so the editor could see what the covers would look like. He would also have a few drawings and prints framed and shrink wrapped. Since his studio / apartment was two blocks away, I would always volunteer to bring the work by when it was ready.



I used to enter John's studio like it was a sanctuary. It was a converted recording studio located on the third floor of a building on the corner of Wentworth and St. Philip Street. I literally prayed while standing at the street level entrance that he would ask me to come up instead of meeting me downstairs with a check in hand. Most artists are creative slobs and have studios that look like a tornado cleaned up after a hurricane - not John Doyle - his place always looked like he was awaiting a crew from Architectural Digest. It was nothing short of a sit-com set complete with huge originals, chic furniture and fresh cut flowers. It was the ultimate artist bachelor pad and I dreamed of one day having a place like that to call my own. He painted in a location just off the livingroom and I would make it a point to drift into the space to see what he was working on while he was in the back writing a check. He would offer something to drink and I always accepted because it meant I could spend more time there and ask him some questions. I was just starting to paint in acrylics and feared oils so any pointers he had about the medium was immediately seared into my brain. 

What I admired about John more than his space, talent and career was his demeanor. He was mild-mannered and reserved but that hardly masked the gruff impatience lurking just below the surface. After five years of being in the military I saw it for what it was - mission objective. One minute with John and you knew that he didn't suffer fools and had no intentions on allowing anyone to waste his time, especially you. I liked that. He would hand over a check, thank me and offer a look that said, 'finish your drink so you can leave and I can get back to work.' The first time he tossed me out. The second time I rehearsed a slate of questions on the walk over to his studio. I think he could sense that I was not going to leave. I was prepared to wait him out like Kwai Chang Caine in front of the Shaolin Temple. He finally gave an annoyed sigh before yielding, "What do you want? I'll give you five minutes then you gotta go." 

It can easily be said that a great artist is a gracious artist. They are confident and secure in their ability and therefore will freely give knowledge to anyone that wants it - but you gotta show them you want it. More than want, I needed it and John dispensed liberally. Five minutes would eventually turn into fifteen and sometimes thirty. He would show me how he mixed his palette and applied his paints (one neat trick was turning his canvases upside down to take the representational right brain out and let the left brain paint the light and shadow), tell me about his favorite artists (he was a huge proponent of the american impressionistic movement), and explain how they used light. He would give me books to read and most importantly, grill me about my art habits. One day I thought he was going to throw me out of a window when I told him I hadn't sketched or painted in a couple weeks."You think Magic Johnson goes a couple weeks without picking up a basketball? You'll never learn and get better unless you dedicate yourself to your craft!"

Eventually I left Tidwell and started my art career, but always returned to John for sage advice about any and everything from how to deal with clients to contracts. Though I know he's not aware of it or would even take credit for it if he were, the greatest gift he has ever bestowed upon me was to help shape my approach to art. During one particular visit, he seemed in a melancholy mood and opened up about his darker days in art when he would simply paint and sell art just for the money to fuel his habits. "There are people that own art with my name on it that I would buy back if I could. Promise me that you will never, ever sell anything to anyone that you wouldn't keep for yourself." I have kept that promise and taken it to heart. To this day I am known for my reluctance to sell my art. I've destroyed more than I've kept and it hurts to part with a piece unless I know it's going to a good home. Thanks, John.

A recurring visual in John's work is that of black people. What amazed me about his portrayal of blacks was the effortless neutrality. He makes no apparent visual statement about them, nor does he make any assumptions about their perceived condition, rather, he simply locates them in their own milieu and gives them the rare opportunity to showcase their humanity to the viewer. There are many white artists whose paintings of blacks are often infused with a level of nostalgic condescension. The struggle to properly present in full what they know little of in passing often impeaches their stated credibility and creates a visceral distance between artist and subject that cannot be conquered with technique - only respect. The first piece of his that I saw with black subjects was based on the coastal fishing fleets and I remember how much care and admiration emanated from the canvas. His blues and jazz series often times used local models and have become a mainstay of many night spots across the nation. 



Because of the way John's treated me I've made it a point to never turn any artist down that seeks my advice or wants to spend some time and talk art. Like him, I'll know if you're serious or not and if I feel you're wasting my time I will quickly send you on your way. I used to feel as though it was my responsibility to give something back, but that's not really it. In the end I'm not giving anything to anyone - just returning what I borrowed a long time ago - it wasn't mine to keep.

I think it was around 1992 that I interviewed John for a newspaper article. He was recovering from a heart attack and I remember being moved by his honesty and 
openness about the emotional toll the near death experience had taken. The fierce intensity that I once knew was modulating into a more reflective persona that just 'wanted to paint the beauty around me.' For those that want to see some of the beauty he continues to create, the John Carroll Doyle studio is located at 125 Church Street in Charleston. To see more of his art and contact him, click on this link: John Carroll Doyle Art - or make it a point to drop by and spend some time with him - just make sure you have your questions ready and try not to waste his time!

Monday, August 30, 2010

AAA Monday's - Dr. Leo Twiggs

I'm starting something new on Monday's that from henceforth shall be called 'Triple-A Monday's'. Triple A may stand for 'African American Artist' but I will not confine myself to that narrow scope. The goal is to tell you about artists of all persuasions that I hold personally responsible for turning me into the caustic bastard I have become ;-). Many of them have not only had a tremendous impact on the look and feel of my art, but my approach to it as well. I never went to art school, instead, I've simply picked up what little I know about artists and movements in art from the occasional library book. I scrolled through until I saw something that compelled me to stop and started reading. I've charted many names over the years. Some I have explored thoroughly, others remain on my periphery so I will be educating you while I educate myself as I write about their impact on me and my experiences with them.

Many of the artists I will mention, I am blessed to know personally. Often time there is a tendency to set our gaze upon distant wonders and thus overlook the beauty which surrounds us on a daily basis. I try not to do that. Im not a star-fucker and I certainly don't need art historians and critics to tell me who the badasses are. I know them when I see them. The world is filled with garage artists who have never seen the inside of a New York art gallery or museum, but are nonetheless art studs. My lead off artist doesn't fall into the later category. He's a stud that has not only been around the block, but owns a few condo's on it....
Dr. Leo Twiggs.

Dr. Leo Twiggs

I selected Dr. Twiggs first for two reasons (forgive me, but I revere this man so much I can't bring myself to call him 'Doc' or 'Leo' even in print). 1) He has yet another exhibition opening next week at the Sumter Gallery of Art (along with Tyrone Geter), and 2) It can said that by extension, he discovered me.

Let's quickly put this man in personal perspective. He has had twice the number of one-man exhibits than I have been exhibited! I first met Dr. Twiggs in 1990. He was curating an exhibit at the Halsey Gallery on the campus of the College of Charleston titled 'Diversity and Directions. I was 1 of 5 artists selected to show my work to celebrate the opening of the
Avery Institute for African American Studies. I was so new to art that I didn't even know what an art curator was or what they did (stop laughing!).

The first director of the Avery Institute was a venerable scholar named Dr. Myrtle Glascoe. She wanted to have local representation in the exhibit since the other 4 artists were internationally recognized. She saw my work in a hastily organized show of underground artists (my very first exhibit) and called me into her office. I don't have a picture of her but we all know a Dr. Glascoe. She's the instructor/teacher/professor that wears grace like a tiara and commands so much authority and respect in one look that the most hardened of thugs straighten their backs when she enters the room. She told me that she had selected me to represent Charleston in the exhibit and the curator, some dude named Dr. Twiggs, would be visiting soon to select works to display (so that's what a curator does!).

A week later, Dr. Twiggs knocked on my door and my art life would never be the same. He pulled a chair from my dining room table, drank the only thing I had to offer (a 16oz. can of Schlitz Malt Liquor) and said, "Alright, let's see what you got." I proudly paraded out all of the work that I thought was good (I was into the decorative stuff at that time and after all, this old guy had never seen my heat!), only to be met with tired and disappointed stares. When the work ran out (quickly - I had only been painting a couple years), the only thing I had left to show was a couple pieces that I was playing around with and he immediately brightened. "Now we're talking." (Huh - this crap?) He selected two pieces for the exhibit and offered a hurtful assessment of my other efforts.

"This," he said referencing the work he had just selected, "is the direction you should head in. 
All of this other stuff you've shown me is foolishness. Hopefully, you'll soon grow out of that." And with that, he thanked me for the beer, told me where to deliver my art and left, leaving me to wonder who the hell was this man that he could call my art 'foolishness'?

The next day I delivered my art to the gallery and in one glance at the other work that was already hung, Dr. Twiggs assessment of my work was not only correct, it was prophetic. Staring back at me were monumental oils by Tarleton Blackwell, foundry cast sculptures by Winston Wingo, hand woven and dyed silks by Carol Anderson and multi-colored woodcuts by Maxwell Taylor. On that fateful afternoon the arrogance of youth left me standing at the altar without so much as a note. My work was so bad by comparison that I found a corner to stand in at the opening and remained there all night. To add insult to devastation, my name wasn't even mentioned in the art review! I was embarrassed to the point of tears. For the next week I was so depressed that I destroyed every piece of art I had and eventually quit painting for the next year until I came to grips with what had to be done if I ever wanted to be on that level. It's been an on-going journey since then, but it was Dr. Twiggs who opened the door by slamming my head against it, then pointed the way to the path that has no end.

I have come to know the man better over the years and every time I was in Orangeburg, SC, made it a point to stop by SC State University and sit with him until he retired a decade ago. I try to never miss an opportunity to hear his talks, see him or view his art (I regrettably will not be able to attend his opening in Sumter on September 2nd). Before the year is out, I will make it a point to call and see if I can spend a few hours with him in his studio where he still creates art. There are some artists that you admire and eventually grow to the point that they consider you a 'peer'. I don't care if I live to be 200 years old and have a solo exhibition at the Louvre, Dr. Twiggs will not only remain the brightest of lights on my horizon, but in my minds eyethe distance between us will never close.

A link to his website can be found by clicking on his name under his picture. I urge all to take a look at and study the work of this unique force in art.

BIO: Leo Twiggs, from Orangeburg, is widely seen as the country’s main pioneer of batik as a modern art form. He is among the most important South Carolina artists since the 1960s. His art is about subjects, topics, issues and people close to his Southern upbringing. But through familiar specifics, Twiggs addresses broader themes, including race, black culture, politics and relationships between generations. He does so through modern imagery and narrative scenes that seldom are straightforward snapshots but abstracted, symbolic tableaus dominated by shapes, lines and fields of color. By the 1970s, Twiggs’ national reputation resulted in a several solo shows in the Northeast, including at New York’s Studio Museum in Harlem. He also has been in group shows featuring the country’s most famous African-American artists, including Jacob Lawrence and Romare Bearden. His career retrospective, organized by the Georgia Museum of Art, from 2004 to 2006 traveled to several venues, including the South Carolina State Museum. Twiggs’ work is in all prominent South Carolina museums, including the Greenville County Museum of Art. He was the first person to receive as an individual South Carolina’s highest art award, the Elizabeth O’Neil Verner Governor’s Award for the Arts. 



13 1/2"  x 10 1/2"

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Huffington Post

Woo-hoo! The review of 'Service' by Frank Martin that ran on the Daily Serving website has been picked up by the Huffington Post. It appeared today in the 'Arts' section and links to Daily Serving.



Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Critique of Service


www.dailyserving.com


Service: Colin Quashie’s Mural cum Art Installation for the
 School of Government at The University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill
a review­­­­­
 by
Frank Martin

Artist Colin Quashie’s recently completed mural, entitled Service, focuses on the intricacy of interactions between art and politics in a complex, expressive artwork commissioned by the University of North Carolina’s School of Government.

Noted as a controversial artist, Quashie, based in Charleston, South Carolina, undertook the completion of this project sustained by the patronage of the Local Government Federal Credit Union. The painting commemorates the contributions of African Americans to North Carolina’s local history, and addresses omissions from popular cultural memory. The circumstances of this image, and its commission offer a rich opportunity for social commentary and a dialogue on culture, race, reasoning, community, and the aesthetics of public memorials in America.

Although Service is presented as a traditional mural painting, its placement, combined with the artist’s contrived design motifs and the mural’s contextual cultural inferences, morphs the work’s significance away from being a “history painting” into a nexus of relevant political issues. Approximately 5’ high and 50’ long, the figures represented are rendered in thin, translucent oil glazes. Despite its concessions to the conventions of naturalistic figurative art, this work’s conceptual richness and informative, amusing, complexity make it more than a simple mural; it is a “conversation piece” in the very best sense of that term.

The ideas suggested in this work obliquely confront visitors to the ground floor dining room of the Knapp-Sanders Building on the Chapel Hill campus. Operating more like a satirically conceived performative installation/sculpture rather than the simple mural it coyly seeks to delude us it could be, its complex ideas correspond with the socially critical and ironic implications associated with other works by Quashie, whose rambunctious contentions with our American culture often simultaneously entertain while interrogating the presumed motivations and assumptions of his audiences. Quashie seduces us into believing that this image is “safe” and the mural seems initially to offer few surprises: that is to say, it does the work that it was expected to do by representing a series of figures of historic significance. Service, however deals with more than simple appearances.

The image’s controversy begins with where it has been situated. Instead of placing the mural in the upstairs atrium, beside earlier historical murals, Quashie has positioned it downstairs on the ground floor. The mural is intended to celebrate images of African-Americans omitted in the past from the official historical record. Its location by the cafeteria underscores the reality that for many years past, in North Carolina’s history (and throughout the South), the only possibility for African-Americans to be employed in such a space as this School of Government Building would have been as workers in the kitchen or in some form of menial labor.

Acknowledging historic exclusion of African-Americans, Quashie, places the “Greensboro Four,” Joseph McNeil, David Richmond, Jibreel Khazan (formely known as Ezell Blair, Jr.), and Franklin McCain, at eye level with the audience, shown larger than life, emphasizing their importance in acting as catalytic agents, fighting for desegregation, having initiated the historic Greensboro sit-in. They are represented as chefs or “fry-cooks” working literally in the fire of the alchemical kitchen of social change. Moreover, as personifications of forces for change, they are closest to the modern audience in the fictive space, and closest to the actual kitchen of the real-space restaurant. The “Greensboro Four” shape our experience in the metaphorical restaurant, and have helped “cook up” what we are being offered as a transformative experience (our contemporarily enhanced equality and inclusion).

The power of this presentation is the fact that Quashie has now chosen to segregate the images of blacks even as they are gradually being included in the official canons of history. This separation is itself politically interesting and significant. Quashie has elliptically attacked the racial context of the commission for the mural, despite or because it is intended as an homage to Civil Rights and "black" history. He instinctively rejected the idea of placing this mural with the earlier historical murals and offers instead something unique and unexpected. In place of what could have been a repetitive, pointless gesture, we have a dynamic, politicized conversation; witty, amusing, and not entirely pleasant. No solutions to the confusions of racial conversations can be achieved by a pretense that the past never happened. Understanding this (for both artist and patron) is the difference between generating interesting, meaningful art, as contrasted with stale, empty or meaningless gestures.

The representations of the Civil Rights workers who staged the lunch counter sit-ins at Greensboro’s Woolworths Department Store anchors the image as a visual metaphor, thus, we may sweep into the matrix of a contrived environment to locate a history painting in the realist tradition.  With the main protagonists shown in fry-cook's outfits, the visual pun is established, a wry tease upon which the mural’s title, Service, can now play continually. The work raises several variations on this theme simultaneously: first, the fact that African-Americans were refused service at segregated establishments (until the 1960s); second, the service to our country that these courageous students and their fore-bearers and counterparts provided in risking their lives to enhance our understanding of the inequities of the time; third, how these Civil Rights workers are serving the general public in helping to create a more equitable American society based on their risky venture; and finally, the fact that most often Africa-Americans were and perhaps still are associated with service or domestic positions in our American popular conscience.

Is this by the artist’s intention? Yes and no. Some is “happy accident,” some is clever and careful contrivance. However, this representation of a group meal invites comparison with another art historical representation, bringing to mind Leonardo's, (yes, as in da Vinci’s), Last Supper. Not only does the lunch motif position this work squarely in some kind of comparative contention with Western tradition, but its contextual shift to “secular” and “legal” as opposed to a “religious” and “spiritual” cultural impact says something about a significant, modern human shift as well.

The main point is this image is a conceptual work being presented deceptively as  a straight-forward painting. The grouping of figures in the lunchroom setting is a pretext for why such a diverse collection of individuals may be arranged in a relational association, and use of this metaphor benefits the work’s overall conceptual structure. The allegorical luncheonette offers a fitting setting for the work’s historical theme. The image’s messages are transmitted as much by its concept, location and context, as by who or what has been represented.

Beyond the contextual politics, the individuals who are shown in the image, were suggested by a committee established specifically for that purpose. Quashie has blogged his research into the lives of the diverse figures, including: pamphleteer, David Walker (born in 1785), author of an early anti-slavery document urging the enslaved populace to rebel against their captors; writer Charles Chesnutt (born 1858); the amazing Pea Island Life Savers under the command of Richard Etheridge; civil rights activist, Ella Jo Baker (born 1903); concluding with historian John Hope Franklin (born 1915). Many of the details from the historical record as well as the artist’s thoughts on his process are included at www.quashie.com.

As a final nod to his own connection to the legacy of institutionalized slavery, Quashie indicates his own ancestry as a product of the African diaspora by showing an anonymous slave couple in panel number seven, using as his models an image of his own mother, shown in profile looking upward and to the viewer’s right, and an interpolated image of his father. This element of personal history in an image about exclusion, courage in the face of discrimination, and the search for equality, a struggle for a “seat at the table,” is itself a powerful statement regarding the impact of constructs of race on contemporary society, as it were, up to the very creation of the artwork itself. This dialectical approach to artistic representation is full of intrigue and interest. To our collective benefit, I suggest that we have been “quashied,” a verb, meaning here to cause us to consider, even against our will, the complexities of America's legacy of law, race, and our ever-curious modes of reasoning.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Post and Courier article


Provocative Charleston artist unveils UNC mural that features state's black figures

by Adam Parker
The Post and Courier
Sunday - August 15, 2010

Local artist Colin Quashie embraced the opportunity to set the record straight. A self-proclaimed provocateur and social critic, he is the painter the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill's School of Government turned to when it needed to solve a festering problem. The school claimed to represent all the citizens of the state, but its series of historical murals commissioned in 1954 became noteworthy for what it was missing: black people.


Charleston painter Colin Quashie, who specializes in provocative conceptual art that challenges social conventions and stereotypes, has created a mural for the School of Government at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. The commission was meant to correct historical omissions at the school. Quashie's 50-foot-long mural features the Greensboro Four in the inside of the counter, dressing them in chef's clothing to convey the idea that they are serving history to the viewer. On the other side of the counter is an array of noted African-Americans who contributed in various ways to North Carolina's history.
The remedy? A new commission for the renovated Knapp-Sanders Building.

And last month, Quashie unveiled his 5-foot-high, 50-foot-long mural called "Service," the first milestone of the Missing History project, which was mounted in a long hallway opposite the school's cafeteria.

The mural is unlike much of the artist's work that came before it and could be a watershed moment for an artist who has cultivated a reputation for challenging conventions and stereotypes, his colleagues said.

History reclaimed

Ann Simpson, associate dean for development at the North Carolina school, said the idea for new artwork took hold in the late 1990s, when the renovation project got under way. 

The series of 14 murals painted by Frances Vandeveer Kughler failed to include the historical contributions of minority populations in the state. 

"Over time, this became controversial, both internally and outside the school," Simpson said. 

By 2007, school officials decided to commission two artists to paint murals depicting black and Native American history. 

Quashie, his reputation preceding him, made the short list. 

"His past work created quite a bit of discussion," Simpson said. But long discussions with the controversial artist put the selection committee at ease. 

Money was raised in a capital campaign, Simpson said, but the Great Recession left the project in limbo. That's when the Local Government Federal Credit Union and its president, Maurice Smith, came to the rescue, ponying up the $50,000 needed to fund Quashie's part of the project.

The concept for the mural was Quashie's. It was the Greensboro Four, students at North Carolina A&T College, who on Feb. 1, 1960, triggered a movement of nonviolent civil resistance to institutionalized segregation when they sat down at the Woolworth counter. It seemed only fitting to base the painting on the idea of "service."

In the picture, the four students -- Joseph McNeill, David Richmond, Jibreel Khazan (formerly Ezell Blair Jr.) and Franklin McCain -- are dressed as chefs and stand in front of a long, well-populated lunch counter, which is divided into eight sections according to historical theme. The counter is a gathering place, Quashie explained. The Greensboro Four, who in 1960 demanded lunch service, were serving a much greater cause, the cause of an entire country.

Quashie portrays them "serving" history to the onlooker. The primary figures in the mural number 29 and include a slave couple, prominent educators, activists, businessmen, lawyers, writers and community leaders. Information about each person and scene is available by the mural and on a special project website.

The figures and details were painted from photographs, he said. He went to a local Waffle House to record images of eggs, soup, salad, crumbs on the plate, drinks, fruit and emptied half-and-half containers.

The painting took six and a half months to finish and involved extensive research, Quashie said.

He said he learned about the deeds, large and small, of many citizens fighting for a better world.

"You live with them so long they become part of you," he said. "They come alive."