News Art Blog

The annual rite of February’s African-American History Month in America feels more and more like a mixed blessing with each passing year. On one hand, setting aside time to learn the story of Jackie Robinson, for example, ensures that the story of the struggle won’t be forgotten. On the other hand, what does designating a specific month for African-American history say about the other months? Can we and should we really compartmentalize history in this way? Similarly, when well-intentioned museums stage group exhibitions for African-American and/or women artists, does the value of making up for past wrongs outweigh the continuation of using such categories? Artist Carrie Mae Weems, subject of the exhibition Carrie Mae Weems: Three Decades of Photography and Video, the first solo retrospective ever of an African-American woman artist at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City, believes that the time for racial- and/or gender-based shows is over. Why Carrie Mae Weems doesn’t want your “black” art exhibitions (or your women’s shows either) may help end the days of such curatorial practices and open up a new way of seeing not just these artists, but difference itself. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Why Carrie Mae Weems Doesn’t Want Your “Black” Art Exhibitions (or Your Women’s Shows Either)."

“Ain't got no rest in my slumbers/ Ain't got no feelings to bruise/ Ain't got no telephone numbers/ I ain't got nothing but the blues,” goes Jazz composer Duke Ellington’s 1945 song “Ain’t Got Nothing But the Blues.” Jazz wins credit as the only original American art form (and rightfully so), but before Jazz there was the Blues. The Blues began as an African-American phenomenon (and rightfully so, since for so long they had “nothing but”), but the idea of the Blues eventually spread to the human condition itself, adopted by every race and every means of expression, not just music. Blues for Smoke, which runs through April 28, 2013 at the Whitney Museum of American Art, illustrates how the visual arts got the Blues through the 90 works of painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, video, and installation art. As smoky and ill-defined as the idea of the Blues can be, Blues for Smokepictures Blues as a fleeing feeling, a lasting philosophy, and nearly everything in between. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Can the Visual Arts Have the Blues?"


[Many thanks to the Whitney Museum of American Art for the image above and other press materials related to the exhibition Blues for Smoke, which runs through April 28, 2013.]

“In my line of work, we often talk about the art of diplomacy as we try to make people’s lives a little better around the world,” Secretary of State Hillary Clinton writes in the latest issue of Vanity Fair. “But, in fact, art is also a tool of diplomacy.” Since starting a visual arts program in 1953, the more than 200 U.S. Embassies and Consulates around the world have featured American artists on their walls. Clinton’s article, however, accompanies the first (biennial) awarding of U.S. Department of State Medal of Arts. Cai Guo-Qiang, Jeff Koons, Shahzia Sikander, Kiki Smith, and Carrie Mae Weemsreceived medals as representatives of the 4,000 American and International artists in the program whose art, as Clinton says, “reaches beyond governments, past the conference rooms and presidential palaces, to help us connect with more people in more places” and serves as “a universal language in our search for common ground, an expression of our shared humanity.” Those honorees range from the safe to the not so safe in terms of diplomacy both home and abroad. Undoubtedly, the question the more risky choices will raise is whether the U.S. State Department should be using art as a diplomatic tool. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Should the U.S. State Department Be Using Art Asa Diplomatic Tool?"

[Image: Kara Walker. The moral arc of history ideally bends towards justice but just as soon as not curves back around toward barbarism, sadism, and unrestrained chaos, 2010. Graphite and pastel on 6-by-9½-foot paper.]