ASSESSMENT

Rosefsky Gallery at Binghamton University

January 25 - February 22, 2024

ASSESSMENT (or antidotal portraits for historical abuse) offers an allegorical accounting of the acquisition and inheritance, plunder and punishment that characterizes American history. Its scenes are charged, and charge more. Episodic entries of violent possession, pervasive oppression, and persistent discrimination fill a visual ledger of an inequitable economy. Depictions both earnest and ironic alternate to create a double accounting. The tally keeps changing with narratives of uneasy purchase. There is no sum total; the balance may never be reconciled.

Image: Detail from DIrigible, 2024, Ink, gouache and conte crayon on paper, 50 x 116 inches

CANNIBALS OF LOVE

Ejecta Projects, Carlisle PA

April 1 - May 20, 2023

Review: Get an appetite for love at Ejecta Projects, The Sentinel, April 19, 2023

Queen on Her Own Color (detail), 2021, Ink on paper, 49.5 x 55 inches

Contextualizing texts from the Monticello site (https://www.monticello.org/) follow in italics, followed by my text.

Unlike countless enslaved women, Sally Hemings was able to negotiate with her owner. In Paris, where she was free, the 16-year-old agreed to return to enslavement at Monticello in exchange for “extraordinary privileges” for herself and freedom for her unborn children. Over the next 32 years Hemings raised four children—Beverly, Harriet, Madison, and Eston—and prepared them for their eventual emancipation. She did not negotiate for, or ever receive, legal freedom in Virginia.

[Sally Hemings’ son], Madison Hemings recounted that his mother “became Mr. Jefferson’s concubine” in France. When Jefferson prepared to return to America, Hemings said his mother refused to come back, and only did so upon negotiating “extraordinary privileges” for herself and freedom for her future children. He also noted that she was pregnant when she arrived in Virginia, and that the child “lived but a short time.” No other record of that child has been found.

The Monticello site offers no proving account of Hemings’ negotiation for her personal freedom, or her reason for trusting Jefferson to keep his promise. Pregnant at the age of 16, we wonder what kind of choice she really had. She returned from Paris, where she was free, to Virginia as an enslaved household servant and lady’s maid. She bore at least six children fathered by Thomas Jefferson. Decades after the Paris negotiation, her four surviving children were freed—two daughters in the early 1820’s and her two sons only after Jefferson died in 1826. Never legally emancipated, Sally Heming was unofficially freed—or “given her time”—by Jefferson’s daughter Martha after his death.

In the game of chess, “The King and Queen, as the most significant pieces, stand in the middle of the chessboard.  Chess rules dictate “queen on color,” meaning the White Queen goes on a light square and the Black Queen on a dark square, supposedly because the King is a gentleman and invites the Queen to stand on her own color.

These rules suggest a patronizing chivalry toward both an official and intimate partner. In the drawing, Sally Hemings and Jefferson sit on a checked cloth. Their ‘leisure,’ with or without consent, is staged against a backdrop of enslaved field laborers.  Jefferson makes advances on her while holding a white queen. Hemings’ black pieces are toppled but her hoe and trowel both have blades— aspirational tools for a cannibalized ‘love.’

VESTED: INTEREST DUE

March 11-April 15, 2022

Davis Gallery at Hobart and Wiliam Smith Colleges in Geneva NY

Vested: Interest Due offers an allegorical accounting of the acquisition and inheritance, plunder and punishment that characterizes American history. Its scenes are charged, and charge more. Episodic entries of violent possession, pervasive oppression, and persistent discrimination fill a visual ledger of an inequitable economy. Depictions both earnest and ironic alternate to create a double accounting. The tally keeps changing with narratives of uneasy purchase. There is no sum total; the balance may never be reconciled.

Five of our first seven presidents enslaved hundreds of people, institutionalizing free labor that generated personal profit and fed our unfathomable national prosperity. The constitutional heritage that our founding fathers forged is indeed foundational to today’s injustices.  The system that served their interests still promotes political disenfranchisement, racism, property rights over human rights, and hypocritical rhetoric espousing democratic values. Willingly or unwillingly, we are all invested in this legacy. 

The figures in Vested: Interest Due are drawn in dire conditions, suffering dilemmas of their own making or overcoming circumstances of their servitude. They occupy tableaux of reaping and yielding, exacting and extracting, whether in domestic or work spaces, distant fields and hospitals, or factories and classrooms. Subjects meant to yield, and whose yields only enrich others, become reapers of retribution and restitution. Those who insure their own privilege, through exclusive legal rights, become, in turn, subject to unflinching scrutiny.

Vested: Interest Due is an assessment. Calculated reform would leave us short. A reckoning is due.

A Body of Principles, 2021, Ink, gouache and distemper on paper, 57 x 114 inches

The fifth president James Monroe is decapitated—along with the mind that developed his eponymous doctrine.  A doctrine is a body of principles. But the body of principals, people whose land, labor and lives were exploited, is primary.  Their expropriated lands grow wheat for domestic and international trade, supplanting tobacco.  Timing is everything in this field of reaping and harvesting. 

Democratic values espoused for a minority were justifications to retain oligarchic privilege.  By design, the ‘new world’ imported European aspirations for, and the inequities of, empire, along with furniture and jewelry.  Elizabeth Monroe’s finery and her husband’s Bellangé furniture cascade and crumble, tassels quake, and the glaringly obvious is uncovered.  Sheaves are still borne.

ARROGATE

Arrogate: Andrew Ellis Johnson at University of Dayton Index Gallery at the Dayton Arcade, OH.

March 24 – May 20, 2022

“We are indoctrinated to not see our own privilege. This willful and self-serving blindness is difficult to sustain, not a trait to be pitied or suffered. Yet privilege continues to excuse itself. 

ARROGATE is a verb meaning to ‘assume or appropriate to oneself without right.’ The large drawings in ARROGATE portray five of our first seven presidents who were masters of this verb—as they were masters of hundreds of enslaved people. They were masters of an institution that amassed wealth for themselves and our nation, through claiming rights without right.

In ARROGATE, images of indictment, comeuppance, reflection and revenge  allude to rights violated, abrogated, lost and won—struggles that persist today.”