The dialogue about racism by African American artists within the
white American artworld is a fairly new discussion, relatively speaking.
Artists such as Renee Cox, Keith Antar Mason, and
Fred Wilson, to name just a few, have brought forth a national dialogue
that bears witness to blackness within whiteness. Only in the last
decade have the gatekeepers permitted it to take place in mainstream
venues.
Unfortunately, this conversation is often thwarted by the cultural
location of the viewer if that person happens to be white. It sets
up a puzzling dilemma. How does a white viewer understand the depths
of a particular artwork that deals with race when they themselves
are blind to their white privilege? Ironically, it is this art that
would inform white audiences with a deeper understanding about issues
of racism and its implications. But without an understanding of
it previously, the investigation of the art is hampered. Although
it is a "catch-22," there are ways to find the road.
At dberman gallery, Michael Ray Charles has created a site-specific
installation, The Property of..., that explores the dynamics of
blackness within whiteness quite effectively. He is playing not
only with a concrete knowledge of Eurocentric history, but with
a contextual experience of exploitation and how that plays out in
American culture. As a result, he provides us with "seeing
is believing," or more appropriately for some viewers, "grappling
is understanding."
Charles has created an installation with enough entry points to
pull any viewer onto center court, both figuratively and literally.
As we enter the gallery doors, we first encounter an inviting red
velvet stage curtain through which to walk. There a multiple readings
here-the privilege of attending an important event, the theatricality
of importance itself, the notion of "the other." Such
lushness welcomes us. On the other side of this curtain, a wooden
basketball court lays down the necessary visual foundation for the
installation to bear witness to a dialogue about the history of
exploitation, occupation, and the 21st century effects of spon-taneous
consumption; they are all related and Charles leads us to the root
of slavery and back again before the game ends. dberman gallery
is an intimate space. Burlap sacks fashioned into basketball jerseys
were hung over the partially installed basketball court and on the
gallery walls. Some of the jerseys were disproportionately long-not
exactly humorous, though temptingly so-stuffed with cotton to create
a ghostly memory of past and current transgressions. They were stenciled
black with ownership phrases like Property of NCAA, Unpaid Benefits,
and Profit. The installation became an ethereal world within another,
ready to be fully recognized.
In the center of the room was positioned a shiny black baby grand
piano that functioned as a reconnecting through line. During the
opening reception, vocalist Pamela Hart in a red floor length gown
stood center court and sang with a resounding romanticism songs
by white songwriters made famous by the likes of Sarah Vaughan,
Billie Holiday and Nat King Cole. For the remaining exhibition,
this music, from the original recordings, filtered through the air
in the background. We were reminded that it is all entertainment
to serve the master. We were in an environment of a staged minstrel,
one that exploits through both the commodified and the commodifier.
Charles' installation is subtle in craft and differs greatly from
his well-known Aunt jemima/Sambo paintings fashioned after vintage
posters. There is an inviting lusciousness to those works. This
installation instead has a disorienting effect through its aura
of reductiveness, or possibly incompleteness, due to the space limitations.
It almost seems as though dberman gallery was too small for what
Charles really had in mind, or possibly that he is treading lightly
into the installation realm. His knowledge and instincts in deciphering
the fine line between representation and stereotypes are very powerful.
One can only wish to see Charles let go fully with the same brash
seductiveness and bravado of his paintings. By all indications,
there is no doubt this is next.
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