art

Q & A with Adam Odomore

Questions by Tim Brown, Hillyer Director

(TB):

When did you become interested in collecting art?

Adam Odomore, Curator (AD):

I first developed an interest in collecting as a high school student at the age of 17. I did not have knowledge of art or collecting; I just loved it for what I saw. Growing up in Nigeria, art was something I was not exposed to. In junior secondary school, I paid a friend to draw skeleton figures for my biology classes because I lacked the skill or confidence to draw. In 2010, I moved from Nigeria to Texas to finish my senior year of high school. I met a classmate, a girl whose artwork I admired. I commissioned her to make a portrait of my baby brother Logan for his first birthday. I wanted to give him something as a gift to capture his being and beauty in a picture that my aunt had taken of him. This was the first original work of art I ever purchased, and which still remains at my parents’ home in Texas. When I attended college. I obtained prints for my dorm, and later acquired paintings from my friend and college mate Ryan Runcie during his solo show in Austin, Texas. I got two small portraits from that show and later commissioned another small portrait of myself of the same size as the first two. All 3 works just got reunited after being separated for about 4 years or so. I am really happy about that.

(TB):

In addition to being an avid collector, you are also a practicing artist. How does your personal work inform your interests as a collector and curator?

(AD):

These days, I find it hard to call myself an artist because I only create art that I enjoy and love for me first. It’s rare that I show my work. I create art for my own collection in a variety of mediums and these are works I love to live with. The works that I create and collect fit seamlessly because as a curator, I am curating my own collection as well. So, within my collection, they are sub-genres and multiple exhibitions based on ideas and stories I want to tell, feel and wish are being told based on how I see the world and my experience. For me, creating art that I want to live with and collecting works that mirror my desires and how I want to live is sort of very autobiographical and therapeutic for me. Because in 2020 during the pandemic art literally saved my life. I found my deep passion for creating and working with art through a tough period in my life, being unemployed and lacking health. It has allowed me to heal, reflect, deepen my awareness and through literature and written works by black women, I was able to enter into and come into a new way of being and seeing things that help me free myself from expectations or ideas of societal norms. Art helps shift my being. So today, I am deeply aware of and grateful for all of these experiences and conversations that I get to experience and come into through art by being a participant in the spaces where these works are having conversation with each other and speaking with a realness that we don’t get to experience in contemporary society and on issues that are important to me.

So, because of this I get to approaching the work with empathy and an openness to understanding. Engaging in honest dialogue. Curating and collecting are about stewarding with care. Creating an impressive collection with accessibility. In my work as a curator and my journey as a collector, I desire to create a space where people can feel seen and know that their own stories and dreams matter. Those at the margins are now the center. A soft and gentle collection that results from intention and opportunity. One that reflects and mirrors life and who I am, who I want to be more of. Living a soft, gentle and slow life is what I do and want for myself. So, my collection is one, that through my interaction with it helps me become more of and helps me imagine that which I desire most, to be at ease and living a whole and salubrious life with tenderness. A sum of my creation, collection and curation together as exceptionally unified whole that perfectly reflects the evolution of my eye, experiences, growth, taste and desire for change. Creating, collecting and curating art for me is about affirming black humanity through the arts.

(TB):

Have you curated other exhibitions? If so, what was the focus of those shows and how were they similar and/or different from your current exhibition at Hillyer?

Yes, I curated two other exhibitions before this one. My first show was for Marquell Simms titled In So Many Words at the Homme gallery in DC. In 2022, I curated my first conceptual exhibition for the Zawadi gallery and boutique titled What Shall I Tell My Children Who Are Black? The exhibition featured five multigenerational Black women from the diaspora working in the DMV area.

The exhibition was about reclamation, reaffirmation, self-representation, and a homage to and of the self–a celebration. Centered on intentional ideas, experiences, and moods, each work in the exhibit embodied elements not allowed us in society, evoking intentional healing, devotion, self-reflection, and prayer, as if part of an emotional ecosystem. Like my current show, the exhibit was about helping people heal and finding ways to love and feel safe.

My personal journey as a curator is reflected in this radical approach to truth telling, while providing safe spaces to express ourselves openly. Writings by Black women like bell hooks, Audre Lorde, Gloria Naylor, Alice Walker, etc., have helped me free myself, while helping me to articulate the broader dimensions race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, geography, etc. within a patriarchal, capitalist, white-supremacist, imperialist world.

I curate to help us re-imagine another way of being and seeing. As Constance Baker Motley said, sometimes what we think is impossible now is not impossible in another decade.

(TB):

I noticed that aspects of your work are informed by black feminist thought. Why do you feel this is important when addressing care and blackness?

I like this question because I think first it lets me give thanks to Black women for their work in helping us free ourselves. Black feminist thought is important in this work of care and blackness specifically because Black women writers, artists, mothers, sisters, friends who are truth tellers, seekers, healers, archivists, caregivers who have found ways to pass their knowledge and experiences on to future generations like us.

We now have the opportunity to use this knowledge, oral wisdom, and history to articulate our suffering, speak out, claim our own healing, joy, peace, love and happiness. As Zora Neale Hurston once said, “if you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”

I think that we need to acknowledge and celebrate the Black feminist origins of care. “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” These are the words, by Audre Lorde, a Black, civil rights activist, writer, lesbian and feminist that captures the idea of care that will be alien to many today, especially when compared to the current, whitewashed and highly commercialized interpretation. And agreeing with Bryony Porteous-Sebouhian from their writing on the same subject, I know that care as it relates to blackness, as it was for Audre Lorde, wasn’t about buying a candle, a new herbal tea, or any other form of consumerism. Care was a radical act when occurring in a space where something tries to kill you every day and fail. That is care worth celebrating when you can build a sustainable life even within that. “The ultimate act of resistance is self-love” (Billie Zangewa) and “in a moment of tenderness, the future seems possible” (Saidiya Hartman). Black women are the foundation of freedom and ultimate care. As the Combahee Collective espoused, if Black women are free, we are all free because that would necessitate the destruction of all systems of oppression.

(TB):

Similarly, a major focus of your current exhibition is about providing care and safe spaces for black bodies in the context of a patriarchal, capitalist, white-supremacist, imperialist world. Why do you feel this is an important topic to address in today’s art world?

(AD):

In looking at the complexity and ways in which Black bodies and people of color have to navigate a world where most of the things they are thrown at is anti- to their identity, I do believe that intentionally creating spaces where people can see themselves in the works and their being affirmed, their stories validated and centered is very important in this culture and art world. The complex dynamics of both institutional and interpersonal racism for people of color are compounded when they interact with other socio-economic factors is one thing I learned and first-hand even most recently. Art is and can be an avenue for self-expression, re-imagination, interrogating and transformation. And art spaces can function as that safe space for dialogue. I think this is why museums as cultural institution and a space of convening for many people of all different background is important and need to keep evolving and find ways to include more diversity in their collection, programming and in their staff, so it represents the community and the ideas that are important to them.

(TB):

Art and exhibition spaces can redefine how we view and understand black people throughout the African diaspora. How do you envision your practice going forward? 

(AD):

At this time, I am really grateful to be doing what makes me happy and have an impact. Art is a tool to help people heal and to re-imagine the changes they desire to live a whole and sustainable life. I hope to keep using this tool to help us get closer to our higher good with hope of one day leading an organization that focuses in part or solely on that. In the meantime, I am excited to keep growing, making meaningful connections and finding ways to support artists and communities. Creating a space to re-frame our narratives is intentional.

As Dr. Samella Lewis once remarked: “Art is not a luxury as many people think – it is a necessity.  It documents history – it helps educate people and stores knowledge for generations to come.”

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Neville Barbour: Blessings in Gray

A review by Elsabé Dixon

Neville Barbour states:

Blessings in Gray “is a visual exploration of the narratives that define us. It explores what it is to be human and remarks on the ambivalence of that perspective. Neville explores how conflict can take us out of our comfort zone, yet become a force for change.”

CONVERSATIONS ABOUT STORY IMAGES

Every Image tells a story, but the good stories sometime need more time and attention to unfold fully. On a winter Friday afternoon in February of 2023, I spoke to Neville Barbour about the nine realistic figure drawings in his solo show at the Hillyer Gallery in Washington, DC. Each drawing seemed to hold complex symbols one could recognize, but the arrangements seemed to have a structure that made what you were looking at almost “abstract”.

A figure with angel wings, standing against the backdrop of a large detailed moon is simply called Monday, and Barbour explains that he has just become a father, and that having a child makes Monday more palatable. I did a double take… how does that statement connect to a mystical angel winged figure standing as if on a stage in front of a large projection of the moon with its pitted and cratered surface? The detail was exquisite, but what is the meaning exactly? A mixture of satellite imagery, with what looks like a historic priestess figure from an old opera photograph and the Art Nuevo wings from a stained glass window were the only references I had in front of me. Like a random but complex dream sequence/Dada image, perhaps what Barbour is saying is that one should not look at his images as you look at a Dutch still-life with defined and absolute symbols, but instead take an emotional stance. How does the title, Monday, and this winged figure against the backdrop of the moon resonate with YOU, the viewer? 

I was curious – where would this conversation to clarify meaning lead? The second image we both looked at was Trap Wednesday.  A masked African American male figure sits on a white throne with a black crow on his shoulder and horns, sticking out from under a long white beard. His fingers and neck is adorned with gold and the word “love” is formed on the right hand, and the word “hate” is formed by the rings on the left hand. A spear with an engraved face, leans up against the left leg of the throne. Next to the figure sits a large, hairy dog.  Again, Barbour was very forthcoming about being an African American male artist in DC, and that in being so there is always the question around the philosophical statement of “doing the right thing.”  He said he based this seated character loosely on Spike Lee. Behind the seated figure is what looks like an Aztec or Mesopotamian Symbol in gold.

St George the Dragon depicts an equestrian figure riding not a horse, but an African steer. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, George’s slaying of the dragon may be a Christian version of the legend of Perseus, who was said to have rescued Andromeda from a sea monster. It is a theme much represented in art, the saint frequently being depicted as a youth wearing knight’s armor with a scarlet cross. While Barbour depicts the rider’s lower half as a replica of the medieval armor of St. George, the top half reveals a bear chested rider with patterned dots often associated with tribal coming-of-age rites. This mixture of West African mythology and an equestrian war figure, or Saint-to-stave-off-evil, can become a nuisance during times of peace, stated Barbour.  And I was reminded again not to tag the symbols as real meaning, but to glide on them as clouds float across a horizon.

You Remind Me depicts a beautiful, professionally dressed, African American seated female figure, with a fox fur around her neck. She is placed in front of a traditional enlarged checkered pattern. This, Barbour claims, is a dialogue between generations. Old photographs, Barbour says, often make one recall those who live in the present.  Perhaps the most compelling drawing in this series is a drawing of six children. Five small black boys stand in the background, while a young girl with a patterned dress curls up with two muzzled hyenas looking straight at the viewer.  The title, Lord of the “Flys” conjures up the title of William Golding’s novel. Barbour discloses that he grew up surrounded by strong female figures. “Hyenas are a matriarchal symbol and moves away from the concept of the patriarchal lion. This animal changes the viewpoint. Expands one’s perspective,” he says. 

Fisherman of Souls, depicts an old man in a triangle looking straight at the viewer, with a landscape in the background and two abstract white circles floating in the foreground toward the left and the right of the old man. Two heads (represented by the circles) – New Baby (Personal experience) – Old Man (Perhaps, a way of looking back at the Old Year and looking toward the New Year, 2023). Idia, shows a young girl with eyes diverted. Barbour says he has become fascinated by the role Africa played in participating in the slave trade. “We live in a society where not everyone can win, where there is no good choice,” says Barbour.  Salt, is named for the thing that allows us to “taste”. Far from the “Morton’s Salt Girl” in a raincoat under an umbrella, this drawing depicts a sultry and confident young lady in cascading silks, shading herself from the African sun. The next drawing, Janus, depicts the Roman God as an African American man in medieval armor. Janus is the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, passages, frames, and endings. 

Every drawing in this exhibition holds known symbols, but they become plastic and ephemeral. They are not static, but instead become less concrete and more malleable. In many ways, these drawings turn on its head the way we look at figurative work. It takes the images that we see, and the meaning we tie to it, and push it into the background. These figurative images – that reiterate symbols, pushing at the outer limitations of symbols and all the multiple meanings they can hold –  translate into widening perspectives and larger cultural doorways. 

Neville Barbour
Archetypes
March 4-April 2, 2023
IA&A at Hillyer

To learn more about the artist visit nevillebarbour.com

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Q&A with Artist and Curator Renée Stout

Questions by Tim Brown, Hillyer Director 

credit: Renée Stout, photo by Grace Roselli

Tim Brown (TB):

In the special exhibition Pulse 2023, you feature four works that are part of the Hoodoo Assassin series. Can you tell us more about these works? How are they similar and/or different from other works you have produced?

Renée Stout (RS):

I started this series to channel my anger (I’m allowed to OWN it, because it’s justified) and frustration about this administration’s direct “war on women”. Women are slightly more than half of the population in this country, yet our hard-won rights are rapidly being chipped away at by a segment of the male population that feels threatened by the advances we‘ve made. This series is a continuation of my “In the Parallel Universe” bodies of works, through which I imagine and depict what real defiance, resistance and the subversion of the creeping fascism that’s taking hold in this country could/should look like. I imagine a world where women refuse to internalize male power structures or accept victimhood and the policing of their bodies, and instead become the soldiers in the fight for their own autonomy. We need to stop “asking” for our rights.

This is just the beginning of the series and I have added a few male “allies” and other diverse beings, but there will be future drawings, paintings, and photographs in which women will be pictured with their choice of weapon. In this culture where guns and the fight for freedom is seen as the domain of men, I want these works to evoke the idea that a time may be approaching when woman will have to become more aggressive about asserting their rights over their own personhood, by any means necessary. Marching is no longer an effective strategy. It’s a serious issue, but I still want to approach it with some humor, even though I’m not playing!

(TB):

According to our records, you are one of the original advisory committee members formed in 2006 when Hillyer was founded. What was your role as a committee member? What was the contemporary art scene like during that time?

(RS):

Yes, I was one of the original committee members and it was my role, along with the other members of the committee, to help create a schedule of exhibitions each year. Hillyer would put out a call for submissions and it was our job to convene, so we could review every proposal submitted and come to a consensus on which would be chosen for the lineup of exhibitions in the coming year. I absolutely loved the process because it gave me a chance to see what artists all over the DMV were doing in a way that I wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise. It was exciting for me because not only could I see a lot of art, but it was also nice to discuss the art with a room full of other artists from the community.

In 2006, the DC contemporary art scene wasn’t much different than it is now. The city currently has a smattering of galleries here and there, but no real scene in terms of the way I imagine a strong “art scene” should be for a city as important as Washington, DC.

Now, if you had asked me about the scene when I first arrived here in DC, my answer would be very different. 1985 up until about the mid 1990’s was more of a scene, especially towards the early end of that period. For example, there were galleries and a handful of artist’s studios peppered throughout the downtown/7th Street area. The original WPA was an art scene anchor and the Dupont Circle area, especially parts of Connecticut Avenue and the crossroads of 21st and Q streets, NW were the places to go to get your fill of art viewing. Galleries would coordinate something like a “First Fridays” and have people moving up and down the streets in droves, in and out of gallery openings, and it was great.

The number of galleries has since dwindled over the years and the city’s art scene no longer has that same vibrant energy and I miss it terribly. I recount that time only because I feel it’s important for those who didn’t have the chance to experience those times to understand what has been lost and to contrast the difference between then and what we have now.

I chalk DC’s lack of a solid, stable art scene up to the fact that the city’s infrastructure refuses to support its artists, galleries, art spaces and affordable artist’s studios. Frankly, the only real commitment is to commercial developers, and really, who needs more overpriced condos and yet another restaurant? The city is just giving lip service and is putting no real commitment or resources towards creating and supporting a vibrant art scene and that’s unfortunate because you’d think that one of the world’s most important cities would want to showcase an art scene that reflects its position on the world stage.

(TB):

You have curated shows for Hillyer in the past, most notably, Six in the Mix, which included Cianne Fragione, Kenyatta Hinkle, Adam Dwight, Marc Face Roman, James Swainbank, and Gilbert Trent. You will also be a guest curator for an upcoming exhibition in October 2023. Can you share your thoughts about these exhibitions and how they reflect your curatorial practice?

(RS):

I’m new to curating and kind of just happened into it when I was invited to curate a show for Hillyer that ended up being Six in the Mix. Ever since that first experience I have been interested in curating more exhibitions. However, the issue is that I’m a full-time artist and curating is a complex and time-consuming endeavor that requires you to be disciplined, methodical, aware and thoughtful.

For Six in the Mix, I wanted to present an exhibition of works that were created by a small group of artists that was diverse in terms of style, gender, age, race, and sexual orientation. I was thinking along these lines because I wanted to reflect some of the diversity within the DMV’s artist population. I wish I could have made it even more diverse, but I wanted to keep it to a small group so that each of the artists could present a decent sized body of their works.

It still feels weird to think of myself as a curator, but in the role of curator I hope to present exhibitions that showcase artists, themes, or ways of thinking about art that I don’t see other curators considering or presenting right now. For example, one fantasy is to curate something conceptual, challenging, and thought-provoking like a show titled “30 White Americans” (A kind of spoof on “30 (Black) Americans)” in which I (or a small team of curators) turn the tables and choose the 30 white artists whose work I/we feel represents the styles, themes, ideas, and issues that are most relevant right now.

The art world thinks nothing of curators, black, white, or otherwise deciding who are the most “relevant” black artists deemed worth looking at. We’re used to seeing that, but what if the “usual suspects” that are used to being chosen as the best and at the top of the art world (usually white and male) aren’t who I would choose? It all depends on who’s doing the deciding when it comes to what’s “relevant.” I try to imagine how I would go about making my selections and what that exhibition would look like hanging at the National Gallery, the Whitney or MOMA. But the thing that entertains me the most when I think about it, is trying to imagine what the discussion would be. I’m sure a lot of people would have their panties in a bunch over my choices and because the irony of an exhibition like that would most likely be lost on them, LOL.

(TB):

As an accomplished and well-established contemporary artist and curator in Washington DC, why do you feel it is important to provide exhibition opportunities for new and emerging artists? When did you have your first solo show?

(RS):

I no longer believe in the labels “emerging” and “established” when it comes to artists because the structure/order of the art world has changed over time to the point where those labels have become meaningless and no longer applicable.

I feel it’s important to provide exhibition opportunities for DMV artists in general not just “emerging” artists, because the problem, (which I’ve already touched on above) is that there aren’t enough venues and opportunities to exhibit for the many talented artists in this area. Some good artists decide to leave for that reason.

Therefore, I feel that it’s important for the city to make sure that Hillyer Artspace and small galleries like Transformer and Honfleur provide exhibition spaces so local artists can thrive. We need even more spaces like these spread throughout the city.

My first solo show was at the Barbara Kornblatt Gallery in 1990. The gallery was located at 406 7th Street, NW (downtown). The David Adamson Gallery, where I started showing after Barbara closed her gallery, was in that same building.

(TB):

What advice would you give to aspiring contemporary artists living and working in society today?

(RS):

Hmm…that’s hard because the experiences I’ve had on my journey, which of course is ongoing, are very different than the way it might play out for a young artist today. The art world is so turned upside down and backwards at this time that the advice I was given may not even work the same way now. It was instilled in students back then that we should work hard to hone our skills and our craft and develop our individual voices. We understood that if we did that (which was basically called “paying our dues”), we just might earn recognition and a place in the artworld, usually by the time you were a mid-career artist. And that’s exactly how it played out for me. Although I still strongly believe in that advice on principle, the reality of the art world has changed.

What do you tell a young artist when the art world has become something of a lottery or the art version of American Idol? You might get the golden ticket straight out of grad school if your work fits a trend that’s being promoted by a celebrity curator and one of a handful of corporate commercial galleries snaps you up and gets you instantly “established” because you’re a pretty, young thing, have an interesting back story and you’re dating the right person. But don’t count on it.

On the other hand, you could be a super talented and mature artist who’s been plugging away at a day job for years while still working away on your art in the shadows on nights weekends and vacations. The next thing you know you’re 40 or 50 and your work may be finally getting some notice. I would consider you an emerging artist. What I’m saying is, at this time in the art world, what does youth have to do with being an “emerging” artist and what does age and maturity have to do with being established or commercially successful?

With all of that said, I still believe the focus of any artist at any age should be on the integrity of the work and not the art world spectacle. I would say that they should stay up on art history…know what has already been done so that they don’t fool themselves into thinking they invented the wheel. Stay up on the contemporary art scene as well for the same reason. Avoid mimicking art world trends because they think it’s going to get them some notice…for the most part, the current art world business model seems to be primarily functioning like a retail clothing business model with popular styles that quickly come in, then go out of fashion the next season. Keep following trends and their work will be as equally “disposable” as last seasons high-wasted jeans.

When people ask you who your influences are, don’t lie or act like you don’t have any. We all did early on, and anybody who’s up on art history and contemporary art is going to be able to recognize your influences anyway.

Lastly, work on finding your own voice and visual vocabulary while periodically reassessing your motives and practice by asking yourself: What do I believe? What am I aiming to say with what I’m creating and what am I hoping to contribute to the conversation that’s meaningful?

This blog post was published in conjunction with the special exhibition titled Pulse 2023, which celebrates the contributions of Hillyer‘s advisory committee members since the gallery was founded in 2006.

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BROOKE MARCY

Brooke Marcy explores mass consumerism of fast food in her paintings, focusing on giving them a pop art feel. Come check out these paintings at Hillyer Art Space through October 31st. Photos courtesy of Brooke Marcy.

Brooke Marcy explores mass consumerism of fast food in her paintings, focusing on giving them a pop art feel. Come check out these paintings at Hillyer Art Space through October 31st.

Photos courtesy of Brooke Marcy.

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JACKIE BROWN

Strata

“Strata” by Jackie Brown Jackie Brown deals with issues of growth, bioengineering, and the interaction between humans and other organisms: “An important undercurrent in the work is an interest in the human manipulation of living systems”. Brown’s...

Jackie Brown deals with issues of growth, bioengineering, and the interaction between humans and other organisms: “An important undercurrent in the work is an interest in the human manipulation of living systems”. Brown’s “Strata” is an interesting instantiation of the relation which artists have with their own artwork, mimicking natural ideas of symbiosis and parasitism.

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