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In his 1993 essay
"Black to the Future," cultural critic Mark Dery asks, "Why
do so few African Americans write science fiction, a genre whose close
encounters with the 'Other' - the stranger in a strange land - would
seem uniquely suited to [their] concerns?"
The current exhibition at SPACES - Afrofuturism - attempts
to address the ways African-American artists interpret and appropriate
technology, literary fiction and electronic music, as well as images
from the mass media and popular culture. There are nods to science fiction
and the phantasmagoric in the exhibition as well. What is at the heart
of Afrofuturism, however, is the acknowledgment of a history
that continues to shape the present and the future; clearly, "black
to the future" is, and always will be, steeped in the past.
While the artwork in Afrofuturism is for the most part spectacular,
the exhibition does not hold together very well from a curatorial standpoint.
Co-curators Ernest Arthur Bryant III and Suzanne Roberts tried to accomplish
too much with too few works. That said, Afrofuturism is an
important exhibition for SPACES and for Cleveland, as the city's contemporary
art scene rarely showcases major exhibitions of work by people of color,
especially those that confront the structures of racism and white privilege.
One of the most compelling installations in the exhibition is Carl Pope
Jr.'s The Bad Air Smelled of Roses, Transmission from Ellison to
Reid to ICO, which comprises printed posters stapled to one of
the gallery walls. The installation is reminiscent of the handbills
found plastered on abandoned buildings that advertise upcoming shows
and CD releases. But in place of music industry propaganda, Pope's flyers
feature statements such as "ECHO THE FICTION OF MY IDENTITY,"
"THE SYNTAX IS PROCHOICE," and "WHAT IS A NEGRO WITH
A PH.D.?"
The statements are boldly printed in black or red text against vivid
colors or stark white, and they collectively convey complexities, ironies
and mythologies around race. "ECHO THE FICTION OF MY IDENTITY,"
for example, references a scene that plays out over and over as unenlightened
- or tactless - whites reflexively clutch their handbags when passing
a group of young African-American men on the street or lock their car
doors when entering a "bad" - i.e. "black" - neighborhood.
Seitu Jones' Noirex is a pair of faux advertisements for a
fictional prescription drug of the same name. The ads assert that "the
little white pill to privilege" can "correct excessive melanin
content" of the skin, offering "an exciting new alternative
to discrimination in the workplace and in housing." Jones' piece
is humorously biting, as the artist critiques the proliferation of prescription
drug advertisements, which offer answers, or "cures," for
medical "conditions" such as "restless leg syndrome,"
"erectile dysfunction" and "sleep disorders." Just
as many of these medical problems are constructed to serve capitalist
ends, race is socially constructed to uphold white supremacy. Jones'
piece underscores the significance of whiteness as signifier of privilege
and power; however, the work fails to address race as a social construct,
as opposed to a biological "fact."
Olaleka Jeyifous' Farther, Faster, or I Love Black Folks So Much
That I'd Rather See Them Dead Than Living This Way… is one
of the few works in Afrofuturism that patently fits the exhibition's
overarching theme. Jeyifous' piece is comprised of 12 monitors stacked
together, some of them activated with black-and-white video images,
others turned off with black duct tape Xs on them. The low-tech nature
of the outdated televisions is emphasized by surreal imagery: an object
that seemingly morphs from a crown to a set of pointed false teeth,
x-rays of hands, a smoking skull and a series of random, streaming symbols.
From an aesthetic standpoint, Jeyifous succeeds in constructing a visually
interesting sculpture. Conceptually, the low-tech piece references the
"digital divide," which renders technology as a commonplace
necessity for the affluent, and an often unattainable luxury for poor
men and women struggling to feed their families.
The inclusion of Robert Banks' X, The Baby Cinema and MPG:
Motion Picture Genocide are also apropos to Afrofuturism,
as they were produced when Banks was living with his widowed mother,
shooting films in the small attic while intermittently caring for his
nieces and nephews and chipping in on family finances, home repair and
maintenance. Perhaps not coincidentally, Banks' work at the time was
blatantly clear-cut; he altered and drew on film, resisting some filmmakers'
proclivity toward representational works reflecting "reality."
The artist's experimentation with the film medium reflected his financial
constraints and familial responsibilities. The resulting works are timelessly
stunning, even on the small screen.
April Banks' installation culminates in a video of headshots of African-American
men whose eyes and mouths are covered in white cloth. Words and phrases
such as "thug," "savage," "Uncle Tom,"
"N-word," "boy" and "good hair" fade in
and out over their faces. The piece, Parables of Freedom, requires
that viewers walk into a circular, perforated black paper screen to
arrive at the video monitor. The effect of the white light permeating
the black paper is somberly beautiful; this, coupled with the evocative
video component makes for an intensely sobering sensory experience.
Afrofuturism reveals the ways technology, popular culture,
mass media and history have shaped - and have been shaped by - African-American
culture and identity. It is an important exhibition because it exposes
the ways in which those outside of the realm of white privilege navigate
this strange land.