| susceptible to images a milwaukee art review |
ARTISTS OF COLOR
Paintings, Prints, Collage, Sculpture, and Quilts by African
American Artists
Peltz Gallery
1119 E. Knapp Street, Milwaukee.
414-223-4278
January 19 through March 17, 2007
In the last few months the topic of under-representation in the arts
appeared frequently on the pages of Susceptible to Images as we
debated the homogenous make-up of the recent recipients of the Nohl
Fellowships for Individual Artists. It is all too known that both women and
minorities remain significantly removed from the positions of power in all
spheres of life. While pondering upon this situation, a visit to Cissy Peltz
Gallery might be an enlightening experience.
As the title “Artists of Color” clumsily suggests (last I heard, the word
“color” was not considered very proper if used in reference to race), the
exhibition features the work by African-Americans. It is a somewhat
eclectic grouping, bringing together local artists, many of whom have
been represented by Peltz for years, and artists with international
reputations, whose presence in the show is marked by fine prints, one
of Peltz’s specialties. While the intention of displaying the group whose
voice is generally not widely audible within the art scene is certainly
noble, an important question to answer is whether the discussion of
African-American art as a separate entity is possible at all and whether
the exhibition suggests anything about its potential preoccupations.
Featured prominently at the entrance of the gallery’s main room are
prints by the famous, Kara Walker and Alison Saar. Both artists make
race and heritage the main theme of their work, but they approach their
subject matter from very different angles. Walker’s intaglio prints are
black and white, maintaining a dose of resemblance to her signature
cut-outs. It is interesting to observe that at the first glimpse the prints
appear to promise a somewhat cohesive narrative, as the characters
are set in deep, atmospheric settings, created masterfully with spit-bite
aquatint. However, upon closer inspection, it turns out that the scenes
are as ambiguous as all of the Walker’s work, defying a possibility of
simple, straight-forward interpretation. This is particularly striking in
untitled (John Brown). Allison Saar, on the other hand, references
Black folk art by extracting her subject matter into bold, essential forms.
The ingenious simplicity and efficiency of her woodcut Washtub Blues
is perhaps a good enough reason to visit the gallery. With three colors
(two blues and a black) the artist successfully creates an almost iconic
image of sorrow.
To many local African American artists, the questions of identity and
heritage also seem to provide fertile ground for development of their
own ideas. Reliefs by George Ray McCormick, particularly funky, bold
Pastor Low Mo’ Get Down and Sister Hattiebell, represent the tradition
that Saar’s work references. A very striking example of works that
alludes to African American history are three large, mixed-media
drawings of cotton plantations by a self-taught artist, David Anderson.
His atmospheric, mysterious renderings seem to speak of a mythical, if
not other-wordly, place. In one of the drawings the forms of the white-
clothed cotton-picking women seem to evaporate into bell-shaped
ghostly forms floating within the field. These pictures seem to balance
gracefully between memory and its loss, fact and imagination, grief and
nostalgia. Therefore, I was shocked to see the two paintings by the
same artist in the rear of the gallery, which had none of the alluring,
somewhat enigmatic aura of the drawings. Two large canvases painted
with flat brushstroke and raw local color appeared to be painted straight
from tourist snapshots of Africa. Sadly, they seem to cater to cliché
imaginations of the continent, rather than to reveal any kind of truth,
either factual or psychological.
Another interesting case is Louisiana Bendolph’s Three Squares (After
Gee’s Bend Quilt), a color aquatint published by Paulson Press. While
the design of this luscious piece is based on a quilt, the technique of
aquatint takes the color of the piece to the level of almost unimaginable
luminosity, pushing the entire composition away from its humble,
utilitarian roots towards the realm of pure abstraction. Even though the
piece is aesthetically stunning, I cannot help but wonder whether
translating the quilt into a print serves a meaningful purpose. Certainly,
Gee’s Bend quilts are often praised for their cutting-edge, minimalist
compositions and their remarkable parallel to “high-art” abstraction, but
isn’t their mundane, modest material the essential part of their identity?
Isn’t it the stunning transformation of the used-up that makes these
quilts phenomenal? And if so, what remains, if all that is left of the
original source is a design?
The Peltz’s exhibition also features the work of artists who do not turn to
the race, heritage or tradition as their subject matter. Sam Gilliam’s
colorful paper constructions and Trenton Baylor’s sculptural/utilitarian
objects are preoccupied with form above anything else and lure the
viewers with texture, surface and sensuous materiality.
Overall, the exhibition at the Peltz is uneven, juxtaposing excellent work
with the pieces that seem to exploit rather than extol African-American
heritage. It also proves that racial identity (similarly to national identity,
as I can assure from personal experience) is a rather weak link between
various artists, whose background is not enough to provide even
slightly similar agenda. While identity can certainly be a driving force of
the art work, particularly considering the traumas suffered by minority
groups, there are still artists who decide to speak to other
considerations, completely outside of its realm. The artists might also
refuse to have their personal issues swallowed up by greater, totaling
agendas. As Betye Saar, Alison’s mother, said: "The feminist movement
has given me more professional exposure. But I resist that now, just like
I resist exhibiting in African American artists' shows. I've always worked
the same way, and haven't done anything I would consider "feminist art."
The show at the Peltz might have been more cohesive if it focused on
the works which more uniformly deeply engage the question of what it
means to be African-American. Particularly considering Peltz’s interest
in fine print, the gallery could have potentially acquired the work by
artists who are more direct and confrontational when dealing with their
identity, such as Ellen Gallagher, Glenn Ligon or Fred Wilson. After all,
heritage is not just ethnic colorfulness, but also actual, contemporary
problems and challenges.
- Dorota Biczel Nelson
Dorota Biczel Nelson is a Milwaukee printmaker, artist, and instructor,
and a frequent contributor to Susceptible to Images.
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
<<<<<Back to contents page.
Copyright 2007. Material may not be used or reproduced without the permission of the author.
Paintings, Prints, Collage, Sculpture, and Quilts by African
American Artists
Peltz Gallery
1119 E. Knapp Street, Milwaukee.
414-223-4278
January 19 through March 17, 2007
In the last few months the topic of under-representation in the arts
appeared frequently on the pages of Susceptible to Images as we
debated the homogenous make-up of the recent recipients of the Nohl
Fellowships for Individual Artists. It is all too known that both women and
minorities remain significantly removed from the positions of power in all
spheres of life. While pondering upon this situation, a visit to Cissy Peltz
Gallery might be an enlightening experience.
As the title “Artists of Color” clumsily suggests (last I heard, the word
“color” was not considered very proper if used in reference to race), the
exhibition features the work by African-Americans. It is a somewhat
eclectic grouping, bringing together local artists, many of whom have
been represented by Peltz for years, and artists with international
reputations, whose presence in the show is marked by fine prints, one
of Peltz’s specialties. While the intention of displaying the group whose
voice is generally not widely audible within the art scene is certainly
noble, an important question to answer is whether the discussion of
African-American art as a separate entity is possible at all and whether
the exhibition suggests anything about its potential preoccupations.
Featured prominently at the entrance of the gallery’s main room are
prints by the famous, Kara Walker and Alison Saar. Both artists make
race and heritage the main theme of their work, but they approach their
subject matter from very different angles. Walker’s intaglio prints are
black and white, maintaining a dose of resemblance to her signature
cut-outs. It is interesting to observe that at the first glimpse the prints
appear to promise a somewhat cohesive narrative, as the characters
are set in deep, atmospheric settings, created masterfully with spit-bite
aquatint. However, upon closer inspection, it turns out that the scenes
are as ambiguous as all of the Walker’s work, defying a possibility of
simple, straight-forward interpretation. This is particularly striking in
untitled (John Brown). Allison Saar, on the other hand, references
Black folk art by extracting her subject matter into bold, essential forms.
The ingenious simplicity and efficiency of her woodcut Washtub Blues
is perhaps a good enough reason to visit the gallery. With three colors
(two blues and a black) the artist successfully creates an almost iconic
image of sorrow.
To many local African American artists, the questions of identity and
heritage also seem to provide fertile ground for development of their
own ideas. Reliefs by George Ray McCormick, particularly funky, bold
Pastor Low Mo’ Get Down and Sister Hattiebell, represent the tradition
that Saar’s work references. A very striking example of works that
alludes to African American history are three large, mixed-media
drawings of cotton plantations by a self-taught artist, David Anderson.
His atmospheric, mysterious renderings seem to speak of a mythical, if
not other-wordly, place. In one of the drawings the forms of the white-
clothed cotton-picking women seem to evaporate into bell-shaped
ghostly forms floating within the field. These pictures seem to balance
gracefully between memory and its loss, fact and imagination, grief and
nostalgia. Therefore, I was shocked to see the two paintings by the
same artist in the rear of the gallery, which had none of the alluring,
somewhat enigmatic aura of the drawings. Two large canvases painted
with flat brushstroke and raw local color appeared to be painted straight
from tourist snapshots of Africa. Sadly, they seem to cater to cliché
imaginations of the continent, rather than to reveal any kind of truth,
either factual or psychological.
Another interesting case is Louisiana Bendolph’s Three Squares (After
Gee’s Bend Quilt), a color aquatint published by Paulson Press. While
the design of this luscious piece is based on a quilt, the technique of
aquatint takes the color of the piece to the level of almost unimaginable
luminosity, pushing the entire composition away from its humble,
utilitarian roots towards the realm of pure abstraction. Even though the
piece is aesthetically stunning, I cannot help but wonder whether
translating the quilt into a print serves a meaningful purpose. Certainly,
Gee’s Bend quilts are often praised for their cutting-edge, minimalist
compositions and their remarkable parallel to “high-art” abstraction, but
isn’t their mundane, modest material the essential part of their identity?
Isn’t it the stunning transformation of the used-up that makes these
quilts phenomenal? And if so, what remains, if all that is left of the
original source is a design?
The Peltz’s exhibition also features the work of artists who do not turn to
the race, heritage or tradition as their subject matter. Sam Gilliam’s
colorful paper constructions and Trenton Baylor’s sculptural/utilitarian
objects are preoccupied with form above anything else and lure the
viewers with texture, surface and sensuous materiality.
Overall, the exhibition at the Peltz is uneven, juxtaposing excellent work
with the pieces that seem to exploit rather than extol African-American
heritage. It also proves that racial identity (similarly to national identity,
as I can assure from personal experience) is a rather weak link between
various artists, whose background is not enough to provide even
slightly similar agenda. While identity can certainly be a driving force of
the art work, particularly considering the traumas suffered by minority
groups, there are still artists who decide to speak to other
considerations, completely outside of its realm. The artists might also
refuse to have their personal issues swallowed up by greater, totaling
agendas. As Betye Saar, Alison’s mother, said: "The feminist movement
has given me more professional exposure. But I resist that now, just like
I resist exhibiting in African American artists' shows. I've always worked
the same way, and haven't done anything I would consider "feminist art."
The show at the Peltz might have been more cohesive if it focused on
the works which more uniformly deeply engage the question of what it
means to be African-American. Particularly considering Peltz’s interest
in fine print, the gallery could have potentially acquired the work by
artists who are more direct and confrontational when dealing with their
identity, such as Ellen Gallagher, Glenn Ligon or Fred Wilson. After all,
heritage is not just ethnic colorfulness, but also actual, contemporary
problems and challenges.
- Dorota Biczel Nelson
Dorota Biczel Nelson is a Milwaukee printmaker, artist, and instructor,
and a frequent contributor to Susceptible to Images.
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
<<<<<Back to contents page.
Copyright 2007. Material may not be used or reproduced without the permission of the author.
| Alison Saar, Washtub Blues. |
| Two works by David Anderson: Those Cotton Pick'n Days and Measuring the Cotton. |
| Kara Walker, Untitled (John Brown). |