Introduction to Representation

Frank Blazquez b. 1987, Chicago, IL Lives/Works: Albuquerque, NMCarlos, 2018 Digital print, giclée on cotton rag Photo courtesy of the Artist — Frank Blazquez b. 1987, Chicago, IL Lives/Works: Albuquerque, NM
Carlos, 2018 Digital print, giclée on cotton rag Photo courtesy of the Artist

Last year I was excited to attend 30 Americans at the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. Later this year I hope to make it to the Philbrook in Tulsa, OK, to view Hearts of Our People. Both of these exhibitions are considered groundbreaking, although a version of 30 Americans has been touring for nearly a decade and Hearts of Our People started touring last year. 30 Americans is an exhibition developed from the Rubell Family Collection that includes, actually, 31 African-American artists, working in contemporary practices, and exploring the many experiences of being African-American. The omission of “Black” in the title serves to drive that point home; there is no one way to be a black artist. Hearts of Our People is the first exhibition to feature only Native women artists, conceived and curated by Native curators working in radical collaboration with a panel of Indigenous advisors. This exhibition not only eschewed the usual curatorial approach to Native art, but also affirms the importance of the work of Native women through art history. Both of these exhibitions are examples of a growing, and hopefully continued, trend in museums and galleries: expanding representation to include diverse artists and audiences.

According to a recent survey, collections of modern art in major museums are still lacking in representation, consisting of 85% white artists, and 87% male. The Guerilla Girls, a collective of anonymous feminist artists, have spent decades exposing the inequality and biases in the art world through their work. One of their most recognized works was a print asking the question “Do women have to be naked to get into the Met?” and asserting that while less than 5% of the artists featured in the galleries were women, 85% of the nudes were female (but more on that next week). While women are often found only as the subjects of art, in many museums artists of color are relegated to ethnographic collections, viewed as cultural studies at best, or, at worst, examples of colonialism that only serve as inspiration for white artists (see Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief in the reading list). These disparities in representation skew our perspective of who is making art and how we decide what makes a “great” artist.

Why is this important to talk about? As institutions make decisions about what is canonized in art history, what stories are we leaving out? Who are we forgetting? Why is representation necessary? Lack of representation can allow already marginalized groups to disappear. Artist and activist David Wojnarowicz, working in the height of the AIDS epidemic, demanded radical representation of the epidemic and the individuals dying from the disease. His work served to confront the viewer with the realities of AIDS for underserved and underrepresented groups, calling on the government to acknowledge their existence, and documenting the extreme isolation experienced by AIDS patients. In interviews and writing towards the end of Wojnarowicz’s life (he died of AIDS In 1992 at the age of 37), he reflects on his contribution to society, saying that he hopes his work helps others feel less alienated. From his essay X-Rays from Hell, from 1989: “I find that when I witness diverse representations of “Reality” on a gallery wall or in a book or a movie or in the spoken word or performance, that the more diverse the representations, the more I feel there is room in the environment for my existence; that not the entire environment is hostile.’”

The artists in this gallery (Our Bodies Our Selves) explore the importance of representation through a variety of approaches. Frank Blazquez works to document the stories of the street culture and Lantinx communities and New Mexico; his statement talks about how this representation can work as a “counter-narrative” to the romanticized vision of the Southwest while also eliminating barriers “separating people of color from fine art photography.” Colette Copeland’s video asks us to consider representation of masculine and feminine roles in our culture, pointing out the absurdity of gendered spaces. What happens when gender roles are reversed? Barber continues this conversation, playing on our assumptions. He talks about developing a visual language outside of representation that necessitates a “slow read.” Using collage and mixed materials Barber distorts his subject, creating an image that does not allow the viewer to make assumptions about race and gender, but instead allows the time to question what you are looking at. He hopes to create a new vernacular that is inclusive and negates stereotypes.

Over the next couple of weeks we will take a deeper dive into representation. Next week we will explore the representation of women’s bodies in art, and the following week the role of photography.

-Gretchen Boyum, Interim Curator Salina Art Center

Introduction to Representation

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