The Many Hurdles Facing Creatives of Color in Museum Spaces
Written by Danielle Evans / Edited by Amélie Lamont
No one could have written a more ironic end to Chaédria LaBouvier’s position as guest curator for the Guggenheim’s Basquiat exhibit. Hailed internationally, the show titled “Defacement: The Untold Story” was the first of its kind, as well as the first curated by a black woman in the institution’s 80 year history. Suddenly LaBouvier was cast out in the street, omitted from the panel conversation she generated. Upon protest, her contribution was quietly smothered by the Guggenheim's chief curator, Nancy Spector, and varnished with sweeping press campaigns. I followed the expulsion closely, repulsed by countless attempts to erase her from the experience."
I imagine these conversations are exhausting for those raising their voices about historic erasure while simultaneously being erased. People of color are equipped with a shared catalog of generational experiences, a rich vocabulary for appropriation and exclusion. It’s like a doctoral candidate trying to teach a freshman class; despite a wealth of knowledge, it’s hard to connect with an amateur who may wonder why this course applies to them anyway. My own experiences with social equity are elementary, but like a toddler, I’m developing fine motor skills of engagement. Every white person can learn by observing. Trends, language, and firsthand experiences from creatives of color expose a longstanding, broken system skewed against those that enrich our history. Through observation, we understand the word violence applies to seemingly innocuous behaviors like omission, mistakes. The phrase “Be so good they can’t ignore you” is laced with privilege. History favors the predictable, safe bet in the arts, and skin color has been an unspoken metric for centuries. If they can ignore you, they will.
The arts historically venerate gatekeeping under the guise of protecting taste. The creative industries seem progressive now but this is a modern concept. The arts have traditionally preserved the state of culture, defined culture. Institutions are among the most conservative because ascribing lasting significance to anything is a monumental task. And nobody wants to get it wrong. Museums become the long term memory of a society. They bear the scars of oppressive movements that stain our history and carry that trauma like a physical body. Each institution has a closet full of skeletons they’d rather forget: curators that excluded artists of color while elevating white creators of poor character. Inevitably hatred falls out of vogue, and generations of new admins are faced with a problem: acknowledge our history or quietly revise the past. Acknowledgment requires energy spent in both directions, digging up the past while redefining the future. In the case of Chaédria LaBouvier, becoming the first of her kind is historic by nature, regardless of the politics surrounding her achievement. This alone deserves the respect of recognition.
“Museums become the long term memory of a society. They bear the scars of oppressive movements that stain our history and carry that trauma like a physical body. Each institution has a closet full of skeletons they’d rather forget.”
In my own experiences with erasure, I found immense support from my friends of color. I wondered why they empathized with expendability’s specific cocktail of heartbreak and anger. It occurred that while one person heavily commoditized my work over a period of years, people of color’s daily experience is marked with countless friends and strangers co-opting their culture.
Why does this continue? As white people, society has institutionalized our perspective, yet we remain resistant to acknowledge the larger discussion. “I want to reaffirm that we are in the midst of a concerted effort to broaden our curatorial staff,” Guggenheim director Richard Armstrong told the New York Times during the Basquiat exhibit. The institution’s eighty-year milestone is a lifetime steeped in strictly white perspectives. Our inaction reveals the insecurity in our platforms. White perspectives are excessive and therefore replaceable. Our innate fear stems from knowing audiences can find alternative options should we wax too political, too opinionated. But our silence is a privilege when so many are forced to raise their voices. Speaking up is the least we can do.
We throw around “wokeness” in the arts like it can be earned, but wokeness is not a card to carry or a badge to be worn. Rather, wokeness is the unbridled humility that comes with threat of erasure. A person’s past accomplishments or present integrity can be divorced from their legacy if a powerful person deems them inconvenient.
“Wokeness is not a card to carry or a badge to be worn. Rather, wokeness is the unbridled humility that comes with threat of erasure. A person’s past accomplishments or present integrity can be divorced from their legacy if a powerful person deems them inconvenient. ”
The beauty of the internet is its unflinching documentation of the unfolding present, every facet scrutinized. It is becoming harder to be lost to the sands of time. When we are all more evolved or less impassioned or frankly, dead, someone else will pick up where we dropped off, unclouded by personal scruples.
The right side of history is a long game, one that unfolds with generations of witnesses in the grave. However, LaBouvier’s impact is already made: the Guggenheim hired its second black female curator, admitted under scrutiny following the ousting. After firing LaBouvier, Spector went on to replace her with former Brooklyn Museum curator Ashley James. James was positioned to the media as the Guggenheim’s first black full-time curator and was falsely reported by several news outlets as the first. The distinction is subtle in its exclusion. Sometimes violence doesn’t require a blade when white-out will do. Regardless of political motivations or spin, the door is open. LaBouvier told the New York Times in July, “I think it will be better for black curators coming after me.”
I’d like to think so. We hope history will be kind to LaBouvier, but hope is not enough. Creators of color deserve their due in real-time, as well as institutional collaboration in championing their accomplishments. Unless institutions are willing to unravel centuries of selectivity and exclusionary protocol, they will not make history, much less recognize when they finally do.
WNW Member Danielle Evans is an art director, lettering artist, speaker, and dimensional typographer. She’s worked with the likes of Disney, Target, the Guardian, PWC, (RED), McDonald’s, Aria, Condé Nast, Cadillac, and would love to work with you. Subscribe to her newsletter here.
WNW Member Amélie Lamont is an independent product designer and writer based in Brooklyn, NY. She specializes in using cultural studies and design anthropology to inform her design process. She’s also the co-founder of Good for PoC and creator of The Guide to Allyship, two resources aimed at helping marginalized communities.
Header Illustration by WNW Member Richard A. Chance
Originally published on the WNW Magazine on March 17th, 2020