Black Male Identity Politics in Art: The Black Romantic

        Over the past two decades, there has been a global push to diversify and normalize positive images of blackness in all forms of media. A concept known as the Black Romantic has been used to describe this phenomenon within the Identity Politics art movement. Awareness of Black males in this spectrum piqued when Kehinde Wiley’s portrait of former President Barack Obama went viral on social media platforms everywhere. Even before Wiley’s work, Black Male Identity Politics in art grounded its roots in the Harlem Renaissance era with painter Charles White. 
        His lithograph piece, Gideon, utilized layered line contours to depict realistic depth and phenotypical African American features to articulate alternative beauty standards. The right facing position of the model on the paper makes the viewer interpret themselves looking upwards, in a heroic fashion fitting of the name Gideon, who was a military leader and prophet from the book of Judges in the Bible. Charles White and his artistic repertoire stood in active opposition to caricatures by humanizing African American males and realistically illustrating the beauty of the Black race.           
        White’s abilities extended into his teaching career and inspired a student by the name of Kerry James Marshall. He built an artistic flair of depicting the protagonists as jet black skin tone combined with the bright and vibrant environments, equating outside color value with aesthetic African American beauty standards. A piece most reminiscent of Gideon painted by Marshall would be the Untitled (Stono Drawing), where the male model has a straight on perspective and direct communication to the observer. His mane of thick locs paired with his elaborate white coat indicate a heroic stature. Shoulder poise and facial expression absent of simplicity invoke a deep question of the model’s disposition, stark contrasts of light and darkness gift him strength. 
        Kerry James Marshall continues the lineage of the black romantic and his work influences many present-day artists, such as Kehinde Wiley and William Paul Thomas, a resident artist at the Duke Rubenstein Arts Center. In the art collection of 2013, Kehinde Wiley completed an oil painting named Casey Riley, that maintains similar poise and facial stature that is seen with Charles White and Kerry James Marshall. The model position is more direct than seen in Gideon and is looking left almost as if appreciating a glorious past, basking in the light as it rebounds off of his cinnamon skin. Heroic elements are also present with the gold accent overlay, which is another nod to Charles White and his work. 
        Similarly, artist William Paul Thomas has been working on a collection called Cyanosis, which are illustrations of the societal suffocation imposed onto the Black male in America. Many of the models possess complex emotive stances and vary in age, while maintaining cultural appreciation and the beauty of the Black male. Also, the models are Black males that have contributed to the life of Thomas as well, making a personal connection between them and the world around them through a common experience across generations. 

Works Cited

Charles White (American, 1918-1979), Gideon, 1951. Lithograph in black on ivory wove paper, printed by Robert Blackburn (American, 1920–2003), 338 x 260 mm (image); 509 x 390 mm (sheet). The Art Institute of Chicago, Margaret Fisher Fund, 2017.300 © The Charles White Archives Inc. 

Kerry James Marshall. Untitled (Stono Drawing). 2012. Watercolor, ink, and pencil on paper. Acquired through the generosity of Thelma and AC Hudgins, Donald B. Marron, and Susan G. Jacoby in honor of her mother Marjorie L. Goldberger. © 2019 Kerry James Marshall. 

Kehinde Wiley. CASEY RILEY. 2013. OIL ON CANVAS 48" X 36". 

Defining "Contemporary" Art - John Jernigan

How do we define contemporary art? Often conflated with “modern” or “post-modern” art, the term “contemporary art” does not reference a definite genre or style of art but rather refers to art which is being created today. Unlike modern art, postmodern art, or any other established style, contemporary art exists only in the present moment. This means, of course, that every popular style or school of art has been “contemporary” at some point during its existence. From the perspective of an on-the-ground viewer, contemporary art is a snapshot of the current climate, but it is also a unifying thread which incorporates each movement and moment which together can contextualize what is observed in the present. Since contemporary art is constantly evolving (literally changing by the day), how do we properly understand new artistic trends that emerge every year? How can we correctly define what we are seeing in the moment when our target is moving, and the only thing predictable about what emerges next is that it will be new? Doing so proves to be very challenging even for the most seasoned art critics and historians, but discussing the themes that seem to be increasingly present across new artists seems like a good place to start.

In his article reflection entitled Contemporary Art Trends 2018, George Greenhill of artvisor.com states that one notable trend of very recent contemporary art is that is especially political. Global political and social contention over the past two or three years have given rise to artists creating art that is more overtly and visibly conscientious. Identity and gender politics in particular have played a growing role in the emergence of new artists, with a growing emphasis on female expression and representation, with events such as the #MeToo movement and centennial anniversaries of women’s suffrage in the US and UK providing opportunity for reflection. In Greenhill’s article, he cites exhibitions such as A Woman’s Place (presented by the National Trust’s Women and Power program) and efforts to increase female artist visibility in London’s Tube system (led by Arts on the Underground). This trend is not exclusively observable in the UK, however; the temporary art exhibition currently occupying space in Duke’s Rubenstein Arts Center features works entirely focused around the female reproductive system and encourages its audience to more thoroughly familiarize itself with the cervix. The installation, entitled (In)visible Organ, even welcomes visitors by asking them to step through a door-sized representation of a vagina, which can be seen below.

Increased representation of female artists in popular media is also not restrained to visual arts. Women have also enjoyed increased celebration in the music industry, where they have historically been dramatically underrepresented. In their rankings of the 50 best albums of 2018, National Public Radio slotted an album by a female solo act in each of its top 10 spots, with Janelle Monáe’s Dirty Computer placing number one overall. In the wake of appalling stories of abuse by producers, executives, and figureheads in the music industry, the importance of this visibility cannot be overstated.

While women creating popular art that celebrates openness and femininity is far from new, (think Georgia O’Keefe and Frida Kahlo), there is a sense that this art is escaping “otherization” and gaining mainstream acceptance. Whether this growing representation has been spurred by a social climate that has encouraged female artists to be more outspoken, or by critical recognition of the glaring disparities in how female and male-created arts are embraced, it is certainly a marked and defining feature of what should be considered “contemporary art.” And, although the current moment is not without its stylistic marks, many of today’s most successful artists embrace traditional techniques but reinvent the works of their predecessors by creating works featuring diverse and representative subjects. For women, at least, the artistic playing field is being leveled, and that is by far the most important characteristic of the present period.

Alex Katz: Coca-Cola Girls (2018)

Alex Katz (born 1925) has been making art since the 1940s. He worked during the latter part of the modern art movement and then transitioned into contemporary art and is still producing art today at 94. In this post, I am going to focus on one of his more recent exhibits at the Timothy Taylor Gallery in London. I had the chance to see this collection in person last semester as part of a modern and contemporary art class I was taking. I didn’t have the chance to write about it then so I am taking that opportunity now.


The exhibit is called Coca-Cola Girls, and the paintings recall themes of the Coca-Cola advertising campaign in the 1950s as well as Andy Warhol’s Coke bottle pieces. Coca-Cola Girls is a exhibition of large paintings, all with Coca-Cola-red backgrounds. They feature the bodies of women in various poses. The painting that greets gallery-goers as they walk in is the only face in the collection. From afar, the skin is painted in two tones, and the girls are all dressed in white. Though the paintings look flat and solid from a distance, getting closer to the paintings allows the viewer to observe tiny variations in color, beyond the few main colors used. By doing this, Katz makes his work stand out from the pop art that it calls back to. The depth of the paintings is there, but must be sought out. Katz allows his viewers to interact with the paintings.


Katz’s paintings offer a modern perspective on the themes behind the original Coca-Cola advertising campaign that reinforced traditional gender stereotypes. There is no outright indication of the connection to Coca-Cola, but Katz uses the distinct “Coca-Cola red” in the background of his paintings.It is only because of the current ubiquity of Coca-Cola that the audience can immediately recognize the signature color. The figures, while obviously female, are not objectified as they were in the Coca-Cola adverts. Instead, they are both liberated and obscured. The women, as seen in Coca-Cola Girl 30, are positioned so that they are open to the viewers.

Coca-Cola Girl 30, Alex Katz, 2018

https://www.timothytaylor.com/artists/alex-katz/#artwork&14963-coca-cola-girl-30

Their body language is energetic, emphasized by the flowing brushstrokes. However, their faces are not visible, making them simultaneously closed off. In just painting the bodies of the women, Katz calls back to the use of women’s bodies for advertising in the 1950s. Viewers are able to simultaneously see the connection to past advertising and women acting freely, which creates a tension in the piece. The complexity of the message makes his work a piece of contemporary art by constantly pushing the boundaries of how we view and connect to art.


In the Coca-Cola Girls exhibit, Katz addresses the ongoing issue of feminism and women’s rights in his paintings. The paintings can be subtle, and require the viewer to analyze them with some background knowledge on advertising history and popular public figures (the white leotards, for example, are based on Marilyn Monroe, and knowledge of Andy Warhol’s pop art pieces with both Coca-Cola and Marilyn Monroe help to inform the viewer of how these two things connect). Even though they refer to artworks and adverts produced during the modern art period, Katz reworks the themes from those pieces and presents them in a contemporary perspective, with the knowledge of current popular culture and also current social issues. Katz is a long-standing figure in modern and contemporary art, and this new exhibit is no exception to the thought-provoking work he produces.

Sources:

“Narrative Bio.” Alex Katz. 2018. http://www.alexkatz.com/biography/narrative_bio

Timothy Taylor Gallery, “Alex Katz; Coca-Cola Girls; 2 November—21 December, 2018,” Press release, (2018).

Brockes, Emma. “Alex Katz: ‘The Smartest People Bought My Work.’” The Guardian. 29 Oct. 2018, accessed 20 Feb. 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2018/oct/29/alex-katz-interview-painter-banksy

Contemporary Art through the Lens of Time and Emotion - Rachel Tung

According to NYU’s Department of Art and Art Professions, contemporary art is “part of a cultural dialogue that concerns larger contextual frameworks such as personal and cultural identity, family community, and nationality.” It addresses issues that are relevant to today’s society and the people who are part of it. By addressing these issues through oil paint or sculpture or film, contemporary art provides a focal point around which conversation and reflection can take place.

Based on NYU’s definition of contemporary art, it makes sense that contemporary art is often framed by a time period. I feel that today’s society is especially open about discussing issues related to culture, politics, and identity. Art is another lens or medium through which to hold these discussions and open new conversations. And because these discussions are often sparked by an artist’s story and the audience’s feelings in relation to the artist’s story, contemporary art ends up being very contingent on the human experience. Contemporary art thus has the ability to connect people in a way that is more intimate than other forms of art.

Like many people, my initial understanding of contemporary art was in terms of time; I defined it as art made by artists living today. Through further interaction with contemporary art, I have come to define it in terms of emotion as well. Contemporary art seems to rely on the viewer and his or her background in order to create a uniquely subjective experience. When I think about my own interactions with contemporary art, I have felt uncomfortable at times, and nostalgic at others. Studying abroad last semester gave me the opportunity to think more about contemporary art, as our class took trips to many museums, in Denmark and in The Netherlands.

One vivid memory of a contemporary art exhibit was at the Aros art museum in Aarhus. I cannot remember the name of the artist, but I remember how uncomfortable I felt walking through his exhibit. There were some gruesome pieces, such as sculptures of heads in torture devices and a bloody massacre scene with skeletons and small green army men whose limbs had been torn off. There were also seemingly-harmless pieces like a still-life of a fruit basket, but that, upon leaning in, would reveal Hitler’s signature at the bottom right corner. The exhibit seemed to be a commentary on the immoral, dark side of humanity and the future that would be inevitable if we lost sight of our responsibility to uphold our moral values as individuals and as a species.

On the other hand, there were also exhibits that sparked more positive emotions, such as gratitude and reassurance. At the top of the Aros museum was a rainbow panorama, through which visitors could walk and view the city from above. The glass panels gradually changed from red to orange, blue to violet, painting the city with all the colors of the rainbow. The artist, Olafur Eliasson, described his work as “a space that can almost be said to erase the boundary between inside and outside...this uncertainty is important to me, as it encourages people to think and sense beyond the limits within which they are accustomed.” I was grateful to look at the entire city through a symbol often associated with happiness and hope. Seeing how different the same place could look from different points of view reminded me of the importance of perspective. But more simply, it just felt nice to walk through the panorama and appreciate the beauty of the thing itself. The feelings of gratitude, self-reflection, and contentment as I moved through the panorama stood in distinct contrast to the disturbing discomfort I felt walking through the more gruesome exhibit from before.

I think this range of emotions is what differentiates contemporary art from its predecessors. It has the ability to touch and generate emotions that are so deeply a part of the human experience.

References

Aros: Your rainbow panorama. (n.d.). Retrieved February 23, 2019, from https://en.aros.dk/visit-aros/the-collection/your-rainbow-panorama/

NYU Steinhardt Department of Art and Art Professions. (n.d.). Retrieved February 23, 2019, from https://steinhardt.nyu.edu/art/education/definitions

drawing at duke - micheal

I'm not exactly involved with the art community at Duke. Whether that can be chalked up to a lack of desire or lack of motivation, I have no clue. Obviously, I've taken a class or two in art, I've tried some art history (which was both academically engaging and artistically inspiring--two birds with one stone I guess). But this isn't really the same, is it. I suppose part of it is that I'm a to-myself kind of artist, which sounds kind of pretentious on paper, but it's true. If I'm creating or conceptualizing some piece, I like to have space, physically and mentally, to myself, entirely. And I typically don't share my work with others--doing that in 205 and 101 felt kind of strange, although not unwelcome. I definitely need to do more work in seeing my own pieces from the eye of a spectator, yet when I sit down to create something I tend to just do whatever's stuck in my head at the moment. Often that is some combination of 1) stuff I've been doodling during class (and trust me, I do so compulsively every opportunity I get), 2) an interesting instagram post by an artist I admire, posted within the last week or even the same day, and 3) whatever kind of meandering that happens when I'm on a roll but become bored of whatever task I'm working on. The point being: I try to internalize advice, but I don't know if it actually affects the process during.

Before coming to university, the extent of the feedback I received on my work was in a kind of class class outside of school: my mentor would mostly leave me alone while I worked, and would sometimes walk by, point to a spot, and say "OK I like this. do more of that". This is basically why I have a very gestural, in-the-moment kind of drawing style: he seemed to like it as much as I enjoyed making it. So it's very weird coming to an environment where people are doing their best to give me specific, future-oriented advice that encourages and almost (but not quite) convinces me to plan further ahead.

Frankly, I think I'm more moved by inspirations anyhow, and I'm pretty sure I'm not uncommon in that regard: Seeing an artist do things I admire makes me wanna make stuff right now, while getting genuine feedback on previous, finished work slows me down significantly. As in: in some ways, it scares me out of starting something; in other ways, it compels me to perhaps think harder about what I do. Which, I suppose, isn't all that bad: but it sure feels worse somehow, even if only because I'm unaccustomed to it.

Interestingly, all of my ideas for how to improve sound a lot like sticking to what I'm used to, as in, giving myself more time to myself to generate art, or finding some new quiet corner at duke to work from. But I'm certainly not going to think that far ahead.

Being an artist at Duke

For me, being an artist at Duke means being able to continue making art as a university student. Even though that sounds simple, in high school I took formal oil painting lessons outside of school. That means there was a built-in time in my day for me to create art. However, when I first came to Duke I didn’t take an art class right away, and I found myself being swept up in my classes and being too busy to take time for myself and create. It wasn’t long before doodling on my notes in class wasn’t enough anymore and I realized that I needed to take time out of my day in order to express myself more fully on paper.

When choosing my classes for the next semester, I wanted to make sure that I could take an art class so that I would have structured time in the day to be able to draw. My academic advisor told me that if I wanted to continue taking art classes I might as well get a major or minor. At first I wasn’t sure that I would be able to fit in all the classes, but also mentally I decided that it was important enough to me that I wanted to go ahead and pursue a minor.

I'm glad I made that decision. I've really enjoyed all the art classes I’ve taken at Duke because they’ve allowed me to grow as an artist. I’ve learned so much not only about technique but also different ways of expression from looking at the work of my peers. When I first came to Duke I was unaware of the art community, thinking that because Duke wasn’t well known for its art program that there wouldn’t be many people or resources dedicated to visual arts. I’m so glad that through taking classes I realized that I was wrong. I even got to see the opening of the new Rubenstein Arts Center building. I’m happy to say that the arts at Duke are growing, and I’m happy to have been a part of that growth during my four years, especially since making art alongside other people is an important part of the creative process. It allows us to learn from one another, and share in our collective experiences.  Even though moving forward I likely won’t be taking formal art classes anymore, having taken my own initiative to keep up with my artwork in college has shown me that no matter where I am or what I’m doing I will always be an artist. I will always be able to pick up a piece of paper and pencil and be able to give life to the images in my mind. I will always be able to learn new things from other artists and incorporate them into my own expressions. 

Even though next year I might not be “an artist at Duke” anymore, I am creator for having been a part of this wonderful community and will continue to carry these experiences with me as I continue to grow as an artist and person.

Being An Artist At Duke - Alejandro Gaona

Trying to describe being an artist at Duke isn't a very good task with my kind of judgement, since I'm pretty separated from people and any kind of "art scene" there may be on campus. I couldn't have reached this stage of isolation comparable to living on a mountaintop without my choice of major (biomedical engineering), so I owe that painful load of classes a deeply insincere thanks. From what I have seen, though, is that there are plenty of resources to take advantage of. I'm very fond of the 3D printing service free to all students, since I use it heavily to make little dolls for posing and lighting purposes. That was the initial reason, but it became fun to print out little sculptures for my room, and now I have a desk full of them. If only there was more time to use things like the Art Annex’s free clay, or the recently arranged figure-drawing sessions, I could be a lot more content with myself. Anyway. If there was a problem with the atmosphere around Duke, I’d have to blame it on the general student body. There are artists whose work I’ve seen and liked in the art classes I’ve been in and seeing them wanting to advance their skills has been fun. The most striking part of those people is the commitment to make something new, or commitment to knowing everything about other artists and their body of work. Not being able to relax and spit out a piece is lots of fun when there’s quality in the rest of the class to worry about. The problem is, most people don’t try to be committed like that. The live figure drawing sessions mentioned previously weren’t something naturally given to students, because those students weren’t asking for funding, or classes, or anything to practice those skills. But I won’t criticize artists for not wanting to learn these things or trying to get their hands on more resources, because I don’t know most of what goes on, and don’t expect people to change things easily. What I can say, though, pertains to using 3D printing for engineering and sculpture purposes. Most of the 3D printing resources get wasted on making downloaded items like the sweaty blot on humanity known as Pickle Rick, or the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones, or some other useless pop culture item. One of the most notorious wastes of plastic is a certain model of a human brain, and it will bear my hatred forever. Do you know why the human brain can store so much information? It has a large surface area from all its wrinkles. That translates into a waste of basically all a printer’s plastic filament, a precious roll worth 30 dollars and usually able to last a week of printing, and I despise having to see so many people draining a public resource with unoriginal things. Meanwhile, I’m constantly updating my figures, like adjusting the length of its thumbs, making better shoulder blades, adding more joints for the spine, trying to get parts to overlap when bending the stomach so as to imply muscles and slight folds, and so on. And not one of the people I share resources with was willing to put in a few hours of their life to learn how to 3D model, because their “passion” is only skin deep, and only extends to a lazy bystander-like love for whatever flavor of the month show they think is shocking. I hope the rest of the artists at Duke aren’t that type of person, or stooping to appeal to those people, and thankfully, I haven't seen anything like that yet.