Showing posts with label African American artist in Chelsea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label African American artist in Chelsea. Show all posts

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Beverly McIver at Betty Cunningham Gallery

While my companion from Korea (Dominique J.) and I strolled through Chelsea during the yearly 'art walk,' we observed that most of the gallery hoppers were white.  Even though the art walk was free and everyone was welcome, I would estimate that 85% of the people there (if not more) were white.

So when we chatted about this, I joked and said, "Well, America is a very diverse country.  We have white culture, black culture, Latino culture, Asian culture..."

And she shot back: "Oh...and these cultures never mix?! Nice diversity!"

I said, "Unfortunately, very rarely do they mix."

I explained that US culture mirrors aspects of US society.  So we live in a society where, 50+ years after the Brown vs. the Board of Education decision by the Supreme Court (to ensure blacks and whites could attend the same schools), we still have black and white schools. Black and Latino students still cannot compete, for various social and economic reasons, with white and Asian young people.

We live in a society with a 'black' president who ran for office (twice) appealing to the middle class and who never, once, spoke out against poverty in America.

Furthermore, 50+ years after the 'black doll/white doll' experiment, young black children still seem to prefer playing with white dolls and consider the black dolls to be 'bad.'

If you've never heard of the black doll/white doll experiment, here's a clip:


The point of the black doll/white doll experiment was to show that African Americans in the USA have a tough time with issues involving an African American identity. In one part of the experiment, as you can see from the clip above, a black child is asked which doll is nice. The child points to the white doll.  When asked which doll is bad, a child points to the black doll.  When asked which doll the child looks like, the child wants to pick the white doll, but begrudgingly chooses the black doll.

We see this struggle for identity in the work of Beverly McIver at Betty Cunningham Gallery.  Indeed, it was ironic that shortly after discussing race in America we stumbled upon McIver's work at Cunningham.  Very few African Americans come into Chelsea to see the art and very few seem to be represented by galleries (Skoto Gallery traditionally represents black folks and Africans, however).

McIver once wrote: "As a child I had dreamed of becoming a clown to escape my black skin, poverty and the housing project I once called home.  Clowning was my disguise, my liberation."

Here we see three images of McIver (her paintings are autobiographical) praying. In the process of prayer we see pain and struggle.


In the first panel, above her portrait, she thanks God for her friends and family because they have been a great support to her.  In the second panel she thanks God for the election of Barack Obama and asks God to help Obama do wonderful things.  In the third panel she expresses gratitude for her 50th birthday.

Below, we see McIver at her birthday party.


Interestingly, McIver now teaches at a university in Durham, North Carolina, that has had a traditionally black student body.  Durham, North Carolina is a city, however, with significant racial issues.  Duke University (one of America's 'best') is located in this same city.  Although about half of Durham is black, about 90% (if not more) of the student body at Duke is white/Asian.  The infamous "Duke lacrosse case" happened in Durham, when the all-white, male Duke lacrosse team hired black strippers to entertain them at a party and there were allegations (later to be declared 'unfounded') of sexual harassment. 

So I think it's great that McIver, who could probably teach anywhere, is at North Carolina Central University.  It is essential that the visual arts not be a 'white' thing or an aspect of white culture.  The students there have an amazing artist to nurture and encourage them.

Here's the website for the gallery: http://www.bettycuninghamgallery.com/
 

Wooden Stuff by Mangle at Magnan Metz Gallery

So why, in the early 20th century, did Marcel Duchamp turn a men's urinal over, sign it and then call it art?


I think Duchamp was more interested in focusing on how people go about interpreting art than he was in actually trying to convey ideas or experiences.  He was asking people to think about how they think about art.  When you look at a piece, what are the cognitive and emotional processes involved?  Why do you look at art?  What do you want to get from this process?  How do you hope to change by looking at art? What do you expect art and artists to do for you?

By taking a functional object and turning it upside down he was also, basically, saying: there is stuff we can use and then there is stuff we can't use, and the stuff we can't use is or can be 'art.'  It is there for us to think about or derive meaning from.  I think Duchamp showed that if you are really a thoughtful and insightful person, you can even derive meaning from an overturned urinal.

At Magnan Metz Gallery there is a group of artists from Colombia doing work in this vein.  Apparently the artists call themselves and, among other things, take household items and make exact duplicates of them in wood.  For instance, here is an electrical cord made of wood:


So what is your interpretation of this electrical extension cord?  By rendering the cord useless, the artist goads you into thinking about what it could mean symbolically.

I especially liked these elegantly twisted hammers.


To me, the twisted hammers indicate the end of a grim and ridiculous process in which the tools themselves were not even adequate for the job.  This represents the point where the person just says, "Enough already!  I'm finished!" Then he/she twists the hammers around each other in a last act of frustration.

The gallery's website: http://www.magnanmetz.com/

Photos of the wooden cord and the twisted hammer were taken by Dominique J.