Inspired by Books -- MIA book tour July 26

This is a LONG post of notes to me to help me to remember what I saw, ideas we talked about, and to remind myself of the practice of looking deeper and thinking about context and history, and also considering if the there is meaning in the medium or media.

The MIA book tours have opened my head to new ideas, of course, and more books to read. That sounds so blah blah older womanish. Going to the art place to look at 9 or 10 objects sort of vaguely related to the book we've all read, is different than what I normally do in my science-y data-driven daily life, and it feels like onion layers are peeling away from my brain and I see how other people make magic out of the same tools that look like chimpanzee art in my hands.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, was the book by Maya Angelou for July 2018. Our docent guide read this part of Dunbar's poem to us before we started (below) and later read the last part of Maya Angelou's poem; both poems formed the framework that underpinned our tour. The context was oppression, racism, etc etc and how one could be beaten down again and again and still keep trying. Like a bird with clipped wings wanting freedom but always bashing against bars.

the last stanza of the poem Sympathy, by Paul Laurence Dunbar:
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore, --
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol or joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends frm his heart's deep core, 
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings --
I know why the caged bird sings!

then, Maya Angelou's last part of her poem:
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing. 

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown 
but longed for still
and his tune is heard 
on the distant hill
for the caged bird 
sings of freedom. 

Art that tells a story. Beating against bars (the obstacles of life) of a cage for freedom. 
We looked at the giant paj ntaub (Hmong storycloth) that was made in Minnesota. The cloth reflected experiences being Hmong and being in Laos but also because it was made here by Hmong stitchers here, there were words in English and the colors reflected the Minnesota Midwestern color preferences (blue) that make them the paj ntaub more desirable for sale than the more commonly used bright colors. 

Next, we looked at an art piece in a small room that had a warning label at the entrance because of the explicit sexual content that some people may find disturbing. Untold Story, by Joseph Bertiers, a humorist/satirist. He is an African artist and uses a French name vs his African name as a disguise to be accepted. Like Maya. Choosing a name vs. being given a name (like when Maya was called "Mary" by her employer). We were here a long time looking at details and looking at what really isn't allowed to be out in the open in Kenya (abortion clinics) and how women were portrayed. 

Painting by Armand Boua, Lez Wizens de Djamtala. Street Children of Ivory Coast. This fascinatingly constructed or deconstructed piece was applied layers of stuff that was then scraped and peeled off to make the final image. Paper, acrylic paint, and TAR. Tar; that seemed grimly symbolic to us as we also considered our US history and enduring racism and talked about if that was intentional or if it was materials at hand. I like to think intentional. And like the Degas dancing girl from the Man in Moscow book tour, street urchins have no future and are destined to lives in prostitution (Maya did that too). This also reminded us of the closeness of Maya and her brother. Boua wanted to people to look at the children and see their suffering. [Also at the MIA but leaving this weekend is the Philando Castile Healing exhibit of the artworks his mother received from friends and strangers after his murder in Falcon Heights]. 

Lefa 5, Mohau Modisakeng, South African. We saw this one on The Homegoing book tour. The man rising from the anthracite coal. The man is buried in anthracite coal (much more valuable commodity than regular coal) but seeming to be coming out of it; not totally immersed but maybe rising; not sinking into the depths of despair (another theme; Maya bounced back to beat her chest against the bars of oppression over and over again). We talked about the hands here and how they are arranged; the strong spiritual component with the hands and eyes suggesting rebirth (to beat against bars again). The person in this giant photo is the artist. (there are reflections on the glass so it's not as visual to see here as it is in person). 

A carved black buffalo horn by Kevin Pourier. Self portrait. He is a mixed blood Lakota/French Irish and always felt like he didn't fit (said the docent) and wasn't accepted in either realm. Like Maya; not light and beautiful like her mother or tall and handsome like her father, didn't fit in with half-sibs. "On either side, wagging fingers criticize him for being too Native American or not Native American enough." Anyway, he incorporated the butterfly symbol into the carved horn, the butterfly that was also on the famous photo of Sitting Bull wearing a felt hat that many people don't notice. The butterfly can be a symbol of transformation or maybe a message from the spirit world. Here's his website to see more of his work (or purchase). Photo from MIA website because mine was not so good. 

No photo here. We looked at the 1940's Hudson car that is in the same room as the Art Deco stuff and some that we looked at for the Man in Moscow book talk. We looked at this car because it was the luxury version of the car Maya drove out of Mexico. Maya had never driven before and her father was drunk the back seat and she had to drive through mountains. This car was GIANT and we were all a bit stunned to think of a 13 year old driving such a thing. 

Polaris, Martin Wang. Chinese/Latin American (sense a theme here?). We thought this was hopeful except for whose legs are those in the upper left corner and why are their hands so large. Polaris, the north star is central. Polaris, a guide. "Here the children, like the stars in the Northern Hemisphere, circle around Polaris—a symbolic beacon of a brighter future." I said they were surrounded by science and hope. When Maya went to school the white school got the science books and lab equipment and the black school only got hand-me-down sports equipment. 

Next, we go into the small exhibit of Wanda Gag and Elizabeth Olds; The Rabblerouser and the Homebody. Both MN artists from about the same time period. I wandered into this exhibit with my friend Dave when we went to look at the George Morrison exhibit last month; more fascinating women to study and think about and wish I had an ounce of their talent and conviction! Anyway, we looked at Elizabeth Olds' Merry-Go-Round; this screen print (made with some other confusing process of wax and scraping off layers to make each layered stencil) of the children on the carousel. This was selected because of the musical-ness and the movement but of note was the exuberantly happy black girl on the white horse and the equally exuberant Asian boy on the black horse. Elizabeth Olds was an activist artist and believed art could be used for social change and this print reflects here concern for racial justice. My photo here doesn't capture the gorgeousness and detail of the print or the facial expressions so you should go and see it with your very own eyes. 

Santos Dumant, by Kehinde Wylie. I have seen this Wylie's work at the National Portrait Gallery in DC some 5 or 7 years ago and even then could feel pulled in and pushed back at the same time. The colors and vibrancy and HUGENESS just draws me in but then I have to go back and see what the heck am I looking at? Our discussion was about what was this. Were they climbing up or had they fallen from the sky. Were they resting? The eyes made us think that no matter what the obstacle they would rise up again and beat their wings against the bars of oppression. And look at the hands again. Almost spiritual in position like Lefa 5.  So Wylie makes portraits of regular people but then puts them in some other kinds of backgrounds. Here is what the MIA blurb (is there a formal name for museum informational signs?) says: 

Kehinde Wiley is best known for his large-scale portraits of black men depicted in poses that cast them as kings, prophets, and saints in the tradition of "old master" canvases, reminiscent especially of Renaissance and Baroque painting. Wiley’s paintings transpose black bodies into the context of traditional European portraiture, challenging the racial marginalization of art history and questioning issues related to identity and self on a global scale. Santos-Dumont is part of a larger body of work by Wiley called “The World Stage.” For this series, the artist traveled to diverse locations around the globe, including Africa, China, India, and Brazil, where he created portraits that explore the international phenomenon of urban youth culture. Wiley met the two young men featured in this painting in a favela, or slum, in Rio de Janeiro. The subjects chose to position themselves as the two “fallen heroes” in a well-known public monument dedicated to one of Brazil’s pioneer aviators, Alberto Santos-Dumont. By depicting these black men as the pioneers of Brazilian aviation, Wiley instills his anonymous subjects with a powerful and heroic identity, essentially immortalizing them in oil paint.

Wylie painted the presidential portrait of Barack Obama.