Some people experience black art in visceral personal and emotional terms as something that reflects their life experience and makes them feel a part of a larger community. Others think of black art as an outlet to understand a tortured and difficult past and to combat lingering complacency and ignorance. Yet others view black art as simply something to be celebrated.
In whatever way it is viewed, black art is often a source of discovery and enlightenment, and a means of finding values and inspiration.
Activism, Education, Affirmation, Identity: This Is Black Art
Black art implies a unique black experience. And a uniquely black experience, however diverse it may be, is still distinct from the mainstream. The unavoidable truth is that there is a black experience—a reality that is statistically, anecdotally, and socially different from that of any other race. Race is so conspicuous, so damaging, so unavoidable that we will always come back to our racial identity as the common denominator of black experience. Creating art, then, becomes a tricky proposition for minorities, an inherently political, demonstrative, and public act that has large ramifications. Black artists, in every medium, walk a fine line of political expression and self-awareness.
What do we as black artists, writers, poets, photographers, playwrights, or choreographers want to show the rest of the world? How do we control and negotiate our identity as a distinct, but heterogeneous, group? Art for art’s sake is impossible in this racial context. Where white artists are able to abstract from race and may choose to emphasize or address their ethnicity at will, those who identify as minority artists cannot so easily choose their vantage point. Though the black experience is by no means monolithic, being black informs one’s outlook, experiences, and even life chances. No one can fully abstract from such a far-reaching aspect of identity. Even the refusal to make art that incorporates one’s own racial identity is in itself a politically charged act.
As black artists, it is easy to follow one of two paths: either tell it like it is, bringing into our work all of the disparity and disillusionment and instability that characterizes the diaspora; or adopt a colorblind outlook, downplaying or ignoring some of the darker realities.
The former allows us to get closer to the hard truths that many of us—blacks and non-blacks, policymakers and citizens alike—still need to see and understand. Here is where we build a sense of community and identity out of a shared history too often characterized by obstacle. But while the formation of a community may bring people together, it may also lead its members to withdraw from the larger society. Group identity can create self-pity and hopelessness, potentially leading to either extremism or apathy. In the case of the black community, it’s easy for the legacy of the abuses suffered in our history to influence black attitudes towards whites and the larger society. It is also all too easy for non-blacks to respond in kind; to exclude, stereotype, and fear blacks and to resent or be overwhelmed by their grievances. Too much race-consciousness may become disconcerting, and may be perceived as hostile.
In contrast, if we choose the latter route, and consciously take our racial identity out of the art we make and join the race-neutral mainstream, we may be able to overcome this persistent history of “otherness.” After all, detaching ourselves from racial dynamics might allow us to find our commonalities with other groups. But in a way, such an attempt would ring false. If we use art to pretend that race doesn’t matter and allow ourselves to be known as artists instead of “black artists,” we would alienate ourselves from both our own experiences and from other blacks. “Turning off” our racial identity whenever possible might make the larger society more comfortable, but we would be perpetuating a lie. We would be encouraging ignorance and stifling debate on social justice and identity.
Whichever route we choose, we risk losing something. The challenge, then, is to make art a vehicle for education, uplift, and mobilization, without making the group identity too oppressive, or the social commentary too anemic.
How can we present history and reality in a way that inspires people of all races to work towards something better for the future? The annual Black Arts Festival at Harvard illuminates the conflicts inherent in black art as a social tool. Going into its tenth year as a staple of the Harvard arts scene, the Black Arts Festival strives to be a source of enlightenment and motivation for both blacks and non-blacks alike. The planning of the event brings together many black and other minority students on campus for cultural exchange, enrichment, and inspiration. But for all of its events, productions, and panels, the Black Arts Festival still reaches a limited and largely black audience. Moreover, it does not appear that the festival brings black students closer to the rest of the college community. It seems that there are real obstacles to cultural understanding and integration, and they exist both within and beyond the Harvard bubble. Black art and culture are still conceived of as “other” in the sea of Harvard cultural events. It is a conception that neither blacks nor most other students protest.
What Is The Solution?
As black artists, we have already proven our ability to render the nuances of black culture and history on film, canvas, and stage. The new priority must be accessibility. Black artists must make a conscious effort to connect with the mainstream. However unfair it may be, it becomes our responsibility to be inclusive, because we can’t afford to wait for those who don’t share our cultural/racial/ethnic/historical identity to seek us out and hear our message. We can’t be afraid of bringing up the big issues that get to the heart of each of our black experiences. We also have to understand, however, that cross-cultural understanding is a difficult goal that cannot be achieved through isolated, unilateral explorations of black culture.
It is important to make art with everyone in mind. It is important to illuminate black concerns and experiences while recognizing and emphasizing that our outlook, though distinct, is not alien. On campus, one answer may lie in meaningful co-sponsorship of artistic events in which we combine resources and creativity to explore our commonalities. Outside our gates, an answer is even harder to find. With a wider span of experiences, situations, prejudices, and identities, but no Harvard Foundation or Black Students Association, how do we even start in our search for a solution?
It is up to this generation of black artists to figure it out.
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