What is Black Art? by JW Harrington

Friday 24 February brought together a tremendous gathering of artists, educators, and civic leaders for the opening of the Black Art and Black Artists exhibit at the Tacoma Community College Gallery. The exhibit runs through 17 March, open M-F, 10-5.

What is “black art”?  I’ve been pondering that, since before I started painting.  My most fundamental answer is “creative work that results from the African diaspora.”  Simple words, but not straightforward. 

                  For a few centuries, and especially in the US since the beginning of the twentieth century, the phrase “black art” in visual arts has implied some kind of social realism, using representation to depict the struggles and successes of Black people.  For me and other abstract artists, this poses a conundrum. 

                  We can easily circumvent the conundrum by declaring black art to be any creative work produced by a member of the African diaspora, whatever the medium and style – orchestral music, abstract poetry, abstract painting or sculpture.  A diaspora is exactly that – a spreading of people across a wide geographic and cultural territory, resulting in a myriad of experiences and expressions.

                  Can a nonblack artist produce “black art”?  Just last week, at the opening reception for the TCC Gallery show, my very thoughtful colleague Travis Johnson declared that the answer is “yes,” if the art reflects the culture and experiences of the African diaspora.  Contemporary white artists produce hip-hop art that reflects African-American-rooted culture.  Many composers and musicians have added to the jazz world of the twentieth century and beyond.  

                  So I’ll return to that fundamental answer I gave above.

The Outwin 2022 by JW Harrington

I encourage you to explore the work of the finalists in The Outwin 2022: American Portraiture Today competition, on display at the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery.  The three that grabbed me most strongly are the photograph by Joel Phillips & Quraysh Ali Lasana, the painting by Rigoberto Gonzalez, and the drawing by Tim Lowly.  Take a look.

Of course, in case you’re in DC in January or February, nothing beats seeing these up close, in the galleries!

Back at home by JW Harrington

At Lake Anne Village Center (Reston VA) with “Bronze Bob” by Zachary Oxman

In early December I returned from a five-week trip that included 10 metro areas, 6 flights, three rental cars, 4 siblings, 6 nieces/nephews, 3 grand-nieces, 32 old friends, and 51 hours in 19 museums.  In the photo above, I'm mugging with Zachary Oxman's statue of Robert E. Simon (RES) in Reston, Virginia.

I'll take an informal "retreat" for the first week of January, sitting with my pages of notes and 1500 photos, to articulate insights for the year!  I'll post insights on this blog, and new works on Instagram and Facebook.

Dream by JW Harrington

in the studio of my friend young Alice,

born of painter and poet.

I admired her deeply.

She encouraged my work.

 

Her widowed mother

showed us two pieces,

red background, black or blue detail:

on one, rough figures in black, streaked with red,

and a few clearly drawn distractions;

on one, a cerulean circle, bold and smooth.

 

The difference, she said, was suggestion, the basis of art.

the roughness and red obscured and denied; 

the blue-on-red suggested colors unseen.

 

She gave us principles – very rare for her:

paint, don't record.

the act of painting must be primary

through visible brushstrokes - even those created by artifice.

Form is key, the major virtue of the work.

Represent by suggestion.

Together we breathed only one word, how.

Deep breath.

 

Rapidfire:

we know circle, we know sky, sun -- don't draw

do we need circle, or can it be transformed,

folded on itself, present as shadow, present as void?

overpainted, incomplete? 

ovoid imperfection?

Embarrassed by such explicit wordrain, 

she fell Silent. 

 

color is the gift, the bonus

color suggests things not drawn

color is emotion

color is beautiful.

 

It is a striking afternoon, I must go.

We paused by the sink:

she touched each of us, ran fingers thru gloss-black hair,

held a small mirror angled toward the ceiling and said

Henry, I'd like a special gift;  nevermind though, I'll pick it up.

Turned to us effusively -- happy thanksgiving.

Mother flinched;

they planned to spend thanksgiving together.

No, thanks can be more thoughtful alone.

I’ll go get my treat, this gorgeous afternoon.