KEVIN BLYTHE SAMPSON BLACK AND BLUE
KEVIN BLYTHE SAMPSON BLACK AND BLUE
KEVIN BLYTHE SAMPSON BLACK AND BLUE
KEVIN BLYTHE SAMPSON BLACK AND BLUE September 28, 2018–January 27, 2019
Visual Arts Center of New Jersey
KEVIN BLYTHE SAMPSON BLACK AND BLUE September 28, 2018–January 27, 2019
Visual Arts Center of New Jersey
OBJECT POWER: KEVIN SAMPSON AND THE THINGS THAT MATTER BY KAREN PATTERSON
Kevin Sampson was raised in a black, Baptist community in New Jersey and now lives in a section of Newark called Ironbound. Self-identifying as a “civil rights baby,” Sampson grew up as the son of a political activist, which instilled in him a commitment to community issues and African American heritage. Local marches and community meetings were organized around the family kitchen table, and many civil rights leaders, including Ruby Dee, Malcolm X, and Robert Ferris Thompson, would come over to meet with Sampson’s father to discuss the challenges and victories of the movement. As a result of this upbringing, Sampson sees his art as an “alternative way of providing service to his community.” 1 Now retired, Sampson worked for twenty years as a composite sketch artist and police officer in New Jersey, receiving numerous commendations for his drawings and a medal of valor for his service as a detective. The death of one of his children deeply affected him and after losing several other family members, he began making memorials from found objects and mementos given to him by friends and family. It was, at first, a way to cope with his familial loss. Eventually, however, he also started making works to honor friends who had died of AIDS or drug addiction, at times erecting these memorials in surrounding neighborhoods. Since 2000, Sampson has been concentrating on sculpture, particularly what he calls his “movable memorials”—which are both small and large. Initially building these vessels and ships to commemorate others, he began appreciating the process of making as much as the symbolism behind the works themselves. Whether in political protest, creating personal memorials, or working on public art projects, Sampson is a consummate collaborator, considering both the objects he finds and the people he meets as equal partners. He also continuously recycles his works of art, incorporating newly discovered objects or items acquired from his family, friends, and neighbors. His sculptures change and adapt to the world just as living people do, taking on patinas, new stories, and interpretations. As such, Sampson’s assemblages present his personal understanding of what place means to African Americans. One of the legacies of their
Left: He’s got the whole world in his hands, 2015, Mixed media
OBJECT POWER: KEVIN SAMPSON AND THE THINGS THAT MATTER BY KAREN PATTERSON
Kevin Sampson was raised in a black, Baptist community in New Jersey and now lives in a section of Newark called Ironbound. Self-identifying as a “civil rights baby,” Sampson grew up as the son of a political activist, which instilled in him a commitment to community issues and African American heritage. Local marches and community meetings were organized around the family kitchen table, and many civil rights leaders, including Ruby Dee, Malcolm X, and Robert Ferris Thompson, would come over to meet with Sampson’s father to discuss the challenges and victories of the movement. As a result of this upbringing, Sampson sees his art as an “alternative way of providing service to his community.” 1 Now retired, Sampson worked for twenty years as a composite sketch artist and police officer in New Jersey, receiving numerous commendations for his drawings and a medal of valor for his service as a detective. The death of one of his children deeply affected him and after losing several other family members, he began making memorials from found objects and mementos given to him by friends and family. It was, at first, a way to cope with his familial loss. Eventually, however, he also started making works to honor friends who had died of AIDS or drug addiction, at times erecting these memorials in surrounding neighborhoods. Since 2000, Sampson has been concentrating on sculpture, particularly what he calls his “movable memorials”—which are both small and large. Initially building these vessels and ships to commemorate others, he began appreciating the process of making as much as the symbolism behind the works themselves. Whether in political protest, creating personal memorials, or working on public art projects, Sampson is a consummate collaborator, considering both the objects he finds and the people he meets as equal partners. He also continuously recycles his works of art, incorporating newly discovered objects or items acquired from his family, friends, and neighbors. His sculptures change and adapt to the world just as living people do, taking on patinas, new stories, and interpretations. As such, Sampson’s assemblages present his personal understanding of what place means to African Americans. One of the legacies of their
Left: He’s got the whole world in his hands, 2015, Mixed media
enslavement is that African Americans cannot easily trace their genealogy. Families and tribal language groups were intentionally fractured in attempts to break their spirit and enforce servitude. For many African Americans, no marriage records, no deeds to land, no census records, and no tax records exist. This profound loss fuels Sampson’s art-making and he considers his sculptures—most of which are infused with African motifs such as masks, amulets, shells, and bones—to be about bringing histories and identities together at the ground level. Sampson makes no distinction between his art and his life; his politics, art-making, and community outreach are one in the same. Typically, a first step in his creative process is to wander. Meandering walks around his neighborhood, or in the communities where he is an artistin-residence, prompt several important aspects of his practice. The first is to let his mind toggle between chaos and clarity. The balance between those competing forces is integral to Sampson as he strives to make sense of the uncontrollable moments of his life and current events. Secondly, his walks provide him with visual clues—patterns, iconography, textures—which he slowly teases into future assemblages or just closely contemplates in an effort to understand more about his community. In many ways, Sampson is reacquainting himself with the ever-shifting backdrop of his environment. Whether in his familiar haunts or the alleys of New Orleans, every walk is new to him, and these routes offer a tactile cacophony of hidden messages. Sampson is looking for what others have rejected, thrown out. The detritus of others provides Sampson with an opportunity to reconfigure, to reimagine, and to bring discordant items together into new narratives. In his artist’s statement, he writes, “These objects, the bones, the tiles, the tiny specks and leftovers from day-to-day living, are specters . . . part of the conceptual vocabulary of impermanence and memory.” The term ”found object” originates from the French “objet trouvé,” describing an everyday thing that is either deemed by the finder to have exceptional artistic qualities or modified in some way and presented as the finder’s own art. 2 In these types of sculptures, the altered objects retain their individual physical and functional identities. In the case of Sampson’s assemblages, the objects he finds carry layered meanings. As Sampson states, “When I construct sculptures using found objects, I consider this to be the retrieval of materials that still hold both the memory and, ultimately, the power of the previous owner’s life and deeds.”3 Elsewhere, he says, “I rescue other people’s memories left in the objects they leave behind and use that power to fuel my creations.”4 The 2014 solo exhibition, Ironbound, that I curated at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, featured the artist’s works
accompanied by several of the many unmodified objects he surrounds himself with in his home, all of which connect him to a larger place-based narrative and complicate and question the normative telling of American history. On our first meeting, Sampson walked me through his house, room by room, object by object, artwork by artwork. It was during this visit that I understood his work as a reparative gesture both for himself and for others. Sampson articulated not only where he had found each object but also who might have left it behind and why. He then demonstrated how the process of connecting one overlooked item to another produces fresh life and imbues the new form with potential and promise. At the same time, by including things that others no longer want to acknowledge, he reminds us that history is complicated and rife with broken agreements, disappointments, and rejections. He coats the objects he finds in cement, glue, sand, and paint, shrouding the original and reinforcing the layering of meanings, histories, and personal perspectives. His sculptures juxtapose community relationships with the telling of official histories. As Sampson has stated: I am a member of my community, and my job is to get their hopes, dreams, loves and hates out there. It’s my obligation . . . I go out in the streets. I run my mouth all day long. I find out what people are thinking about most things . . . I try to find out the real stories behind . . . people’s lives . . . I need all of them to make my day and to make a piece of work.5 Sampson’s sculptures speak to the evocative nature of the things one sees every day. He views the treasures that he finds as “power objects,” things that retain an inexplicable, almost spiritual command of his life and art-making. Not only do these objects, bones, and totems ignite his sculptural practice, they also act as storytellers, reminders of his life as a sketch artist and police officer. In the same way as the people he meets, the objects link him to a larger place-based narrative that chronicles his intimate understanding of the contemporary African American experience. In many ways, the JMKAC Arts/Industry program that he completed in 2017, three years after his Ironbound exhibition at the Arts Center, could be considered an unlikely ally for Sampson. Rigid, scheduled, and quite literally on a factory timetable, the residency places artists directly within the Kohler Co. plant and provides access to ceramic material and industrial-size kilns. Logic and structure reign in this environment, which is seemingly antithetical to intuitive, open-ended activities like neighborhood walks. Yet Sampson created extremely powerful works within this setting. Struggling to reconcile his identity as an African American and a retired police officer in these heated
enslavement is that African Americans cannot easily trace their genealogy. Families and tribal language groups were intentionally fractured in attempts to break their spirit and enforce servitude. For many African Americans, no marriage records, no deeds to land, no census records, and no tax records exist. This profound loss fuels Sampson’s art-making and he considers his sculptures—most of which are infused with African motifs such as masks, amulets, shells, and bones—to be about bringing histories and identities together at the ground level. Sampson makes no distinction between his art and his life; his politics, art-making, and community outreach are one in the same. Typically, a first step in his creative process is to wander. Meandering walks around his neighborhood, or in the communities where he is an artistin-residence, prompt several important aspects of his practice. The first is to let his mind toggle between chaos and clarity. The balance between those competing forces is integral to Sampson as he strives to make sense of the uncontrollable moments of his life and current events. Secondly, his walks provide him with visual clues—patterns, iconography, textures—which he slowly teases into future assemblages or just closely contemplates in an effort to understand more about his community. In many ways, Sampson is reacquainting himself with the ever-shifting backdrop of his environment. Whether in his familiar haunts or the alleys of New Orleans, every walk is new to him, and these routes offer a tactile cacophony of hidden messages. Sampson is looking for what others have rejected, thrown out. The detritus of others provides Sampson with an opportunity to reconfigure, to reimagine, and to bring discordant items together into new narratives. In his artist’s statement, he writes, “These objects, the bones, the tiles, the tiny specks and leftovers from day-to-day living, are specters . . . part of the conceptual vocabulary of impermanence and memory.” The term ”found object” originates from the French “objet trouvé,” describing an everyday thing that is either deemed by the finder to have exceptional artistic qualities or modified in some way and presented as the finder’s own art. 2 In these types of sculptures, the altered objects retain their individual physical and functional identities. In the case of Sampson’s assemblages, the objects he finds carry layered meanings. As Sampson states, “When I construct sculptures using found objects, I consider this to be the retrieval of materials that still hold both the memory and, ultimately, the power of the previous owner’s life and deeds.”3 Elsewhere, he says, “I rescue other people’s memories left in the objects they leave behind and use that power to fuel my creations.”4 The 2014 solo exhibition, Ironbound, that I curated at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, featured the artist’s works
accompanied by several of the many unmodified objects he surrounds himself with in his home, all of which connect him to a larger place-based narrative and complicate and question the normative telling of American history. On our first meeting, Sampson walked me through his house, room by room, object by object, artwork by artwork. It was during this visit that I understood his work as a reparative gesture both for himself and for others. Sampson articulated not only where he had found each object but also who might have left it behind and why. He then demonstrated how the process of connecting one overlooked item to another produces fresh life and imbues the new form with potential and promise. At the same time, by including things that others no longer want to acknowledge, he reminds us that history is complicated and rife with broken agreements, disappointments, and rejections. He coats the objects he finds in cement, glue, sand, and paint, shrouding the original and reinforcing the layering of meanings, histories, and personal perspectives. His sculptures juxtapose community relationships with the telling of official histories. As Sampson has stated: I am a member of my community, and my job is to get their hopes, dreams, loves and hates out there. It’s my obligation . . . I go out in the streets. I run my mouth all day long. I find out what people are thinking about most things . . . I try to find out the real stories behind . . . people’s lives . . . I need all of them to make my day and to make a piece of work.5 Sampson’s sculptures speak to the evocative nature of the things one sees every day. He views the treasures that he finds as “power objects,” things that retain an inexplicable, almost spiritual command of his life and art-making. Not only do these objects, bones, and totems ignite his sculptural practice, they also act as storytellers, reminders of his life as a sketch artist and police officer. In the same way as the people he meets, the objects link him to a larger place-based narrative that chronicles his intimate understanding of the contemporary African American experience. In many ways, the JMKAC Arts/Industry program that he completed in 2017, three years after his Ironbound exhibition at the Arts Center, could be considered an unlikely ally for Sampson. Rigid, scheduled, and quite literally on a factory timetable, the residency places artists directly within the Kohler Co. plant and provides access to ceramic material and industrial-size kilns. Logic and structure reign in this environment, which is seemingly antithetical to intuitive, open-ended activities like neighborhood walks. Yet Sampson created extremely powerful works within this setting. Struggling to reconcile his identity as an African American and a retired police officer in these heated
and complicated times, Sampson opted to fuse iconography from both sides of the media debate about police brutality into several ceramic sculptures. He has witnessed the ways in which people discuss police officers as powerhungry, racist, or above the law. He also has zero tolerance for violence and the reckless wielding of power. Throughout the residency, Sampson celebrated the camaraderie and community-service aspect of police work with the same spirit that he brings to his vision of a world in which all the lives of African Americans are respected and cherished. His sculptures, casts of everyday items that he assembles while the clay is still wet, speak to listening to opposing viewpoints and looking for shared experiences. Imagine the poignancy of ceramic bones, duck decoys, African masks, and blue-glazed cowboy hats with police badges coming through the mile-long kiln instead of sinks. But Sampson isn’t afraid of the conversations that might ensue from these seemingly incongruent objects; in fact, he invites them. And Sampson can and will talk to anyone. I am certain that his objects sparked the kinds of lively discussions between artist and factory associate that the residency means to facilitate. The fact that Sampson speaks from the perspective of a police officer as well as an African American is incredibly important. I am forever grateful to Sampson for bringing these difficult conversations to the Midwest—it likely was not easy for him. Whether he is teaching young students about the process of telling histories through objects, inviting others to add their own keepsakes to his installation through the run of an exhibition, or encouraging dialogue about race and history in the manufacturing environment, Sampson is both unapologetic and magnanimous. At the core, he remains in service to his community and honors the legacy of his father and those who came before him. Karen Patterson is the senior curator at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, where she organized an exhibition of Sampson’s work, Ironbound, in 2014.
Cox, Wayne. “Kevin Sampson: Memorial Maker.” Folk Art Messenger. Vol. 15, No. 1, Spring 2002, https://folkart.org/mag/kevin-sampson. 2 https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/f/found-object 3 http://africanah.org/kevin-sampson/ 4 Cox, Wayne. “Kevin Sampson: Memorial Maker.” Folk Art Messenger. 5 Ibid. 1
Black and Blue, 2017, Porcelain Photo: Kohler Co., courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center
and complicated times, Sampson opted to fuse iconography from both sides of the media debate about police brutality into several ceramic sculptures. He has witnessed the ways in which people discuss police officers as powerhungry, racist, or above the law. He also has zero tolerance for violence and the reckless wielding of power. Throughout the residency, Sampson celebrated the camaraderie and community-service aspect of police work with the same spirit that he brings to his vision of a world in which all the lives of African Americans are respected and cherished. His sculptures, casts of everyday items that he assembles while the clay is still wet, speak to listening to opposing viewpoints and looking for shared experiences. Imagine the poignancy of ceramic bones, duck decoys, African masks, and blue-glazed cowboy hats with police badges coming through the mile-long kiln instead of sinks. But Sampson isn’t afraid of the conversations that might ensue from these seemingly incongruent objects; in fact, he invites them. And Sampson can and will talk to anyone. I am certain that his objects sparked the kinds of lively discussions between artist and factory associate that the residency means to facilitate. The fact that Sampson speaks from the perspective of a police officer as well as an African American is incredibly important. I am forever grateful to Sampson for bringing these difficult conversations to the Midwest—it likely was not easy for him. Whether he is teaching young students about the process of telling histories through objects, inviting others to add their own keepsakes to his installation through the run of an exhibition, or encouraging dialogue about race and history in the manufacturing environment, Sampson is both unapologetic and magnanimous. At the core, he remains in service to his community and honors the legacy of his father and those who came before him. Karen Patterson is the senior curator at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, where she organized an exhibition of Sampson’s work, Ironbound, in 2014.
Cox, Wayne. “Kevin Sampson: Memorial Maker.” Folk Art Messenger. Vol. 15, No. 1, Spring 2002, https://folkart.org/mag/kevin-sampson. 2 https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/f/found-object 3 http://africanah.org/kevin-sampson/ 4 Cox, Wayne. “Kevin Sampson: Memorial Maker.” Folk Art Messenger. 5 Ibid. 1
Black and Blue, 2017, Porcelain Photo: Kohler Co., courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center
Red Tails, 2015, Mixed media
Red Tails, 2015, Mixed media
The Kron-Printzen, 2014, Mixed media
USS Enterprise, 2018, Mixed media
The Kron-Printzen, 2014, Mixed media
USS Enterprise, 2018, Mixed media
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #9, 2012, Ink on paper
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #11, 2012, Ink on paper
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #9, 2012, Ink on paper
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #11, 2012, Ink on paper
Left: Red Stripe, 2014 Mixed media Right: Black Swan, 2013 Mixed media
Left: Red Stripe, 2014 Mixed media Right: Black Swan, 2013 Mixed media
Chestnut Street (details)
Chestnut Street, 2005, Mixed media
Chestnut Street (details)
Chestnut Street, 2005, Mixed media
The Hive (front), 2012, Mixed media
The Hive (back), 2012, Mixed media
The Hive (front), 2012, Mixed media
The Hive (back), 2012, Mixed media
Untitled, 2013, Ink and watercolor on paper
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #4, 2012, Ink on paper
Untitled, 2013, Ink and watercolor on paper
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #4, 2012, Ink on paper
Farmingdale (details)
Farmingdale, 2006, Mixed media
Farmingdale (details)
Farmingdale, 2006, Mixed media
Left: Steamboat Willie, 2011 Mixed media Right: Kingdom of Heaven, 2014 Mixed media
Left: Steamboat Willie, 2011 Mixed media Right: Kingdom of Heaven, 2014 Mixed media
Black and Blue No. 16, 2017, Porcelain
Black and Blue No. 17, 2017, Porcelain
Black and Blue No. 16, 2017, Porcelain
Black and Blue No. 17, 2017, Porcelain
Black and Blue No. 15, 2017, Porcelain, canvas, and wood
Black and Blue No. 14, 2017, Porcelain, canvas, and wood
Black and Blue No. 15, 2017, Porcelain, canvas, and wood
Black and Blue No. 14, 2017, Porcelain, canvas, and wood
EXHIBITION CHECKLIST All works are courtesy of the artist and Cavin-Morris Gallery unless otherwise noted.
At Play in the Fields of the Lord (study for mural), 2017 Pen and acrylic wash on paper 14 x 17 inches
Black Swan, 2013 Mixed media 25 x 16 ¾ x 5 ¼ inches
Red Stripe, 2014 Mixed media 30 x 18 x 11 ½ inches (approx.)
Chestnut Street, 2005 Mixed media 24 x 20 x 13 inches
Red Tails, 2015 Mixed media 16 ½ x 29 x 31 inches (approx.)
Child’s Play, 2018 Mixed media 26 ½ x 22 x 36 inches (approx.)
Steamboat Willie, 2011 Mixed media 28 x 17 x 10 inches
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #11, 2012 Ink on paper 13 ¾ x 22 1/8 inches
Farmingdale, 2006 Mixed media 36 x 25 x 24 inches Collection of Joan and Jean Waricha
The Hive, 2012 Mixed media 42 x 22 x 22 inches
Black and Blue, 2017 Porcelain 11 x 18 x 14 inches
Favella, 2005 Mixed media 23 x 28 x 23 inches
Black and Blue No. 14, 2017 Porcelain, canvas, and wood 13 ½ x 6 x 13 inches
Four Dead in Ohio, 2009 Mixed media 20 x 22 x 20 inches
Black and Blue No. 15, 2017 Porcelain, canvas, and wood 13 ½ x 6 x 8 ½ inches
He’s got the whole world in his hands, 2015 Mixed media 23 x 19 ½ x 9 inches (approx.)
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #4, 2012 Ink on paper 13 ¾ x 22 1/8 inches At Play in the Fields of the Lord #9, 2012 Ink on paper 13 ¾ x 22 1/8 inches
Black and Blue No. 16, 2017 Porcelain 16 x 16 x 6 ½ inches Black and Blue No. 17, 2017 Porcelain 16 ¼ x 16 ¼ x 7 ¼ inches Black and Blue No. 18, 2017 Porcelain 10 x 9 ½ x 13 ½ inches
Left: Black Swan (detail)
Kingdom of Heaven, 2014 Mixed media 42 ¼ x 16 ½ x 14 inches Collection of Elliott Leonard and Roger Litz Mackandal, 2010 Mixed media 40 x 15 x 12 inches (approx.)
The Kron-Printzen, 2014 Mixed media 26 × 27 × 12 inches Untitled, 2013 Ink and watercolor on paper 14 x 17 inches USS Enterprise, 2018 Mixed media 27 x 36 x 29 inches (approx.) USS Palin, 2008 Mixed Media 45 x 26 x 21 inches
EXHIBITION CHECKLIST All works are courtesy of the artist and Cavin-Morris Gallery unless otherwise noted.
At Play in the Fields of the Lord (study for mural), 2017 Pen and acrylic wash on paper 14 x 17 inches
Black Swan, 2013 Mixed media 25 x 16 ¾ x 5 ¼ inches
Red Stripe, 2014 Mixed media 30 x 18 x 11 ½ inches (approx.)
Chestnut Street, 2005 Mixed media 24 x 20 x 13 inches
Red Tails, 2015 Mixed media 16 ½ x 29 x 31 inches (approx.)
Child’s Play, 2018 Mixed media 26 ½ x 22 x 36 inches (approx.)
Steamboat Willie, 2011 Mixed media 28 x 17 x 10 inches
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #11, 2012 Ink on paper 13 ¾ x 22 1/8 inches
Farmingdale, 2006 Mixed media 36 x 25 x 24 inches Collection of Joan and Jean Waricha
The Hive, 2012 Mixed media 42 x 22 x 22 inches
Black and Blue, 2017 Porcelain 11 x 18 x 14 inches
Favella, 2005 Mixed media 23 x 28 x 23 inches
Black and Blue No. 14, 2017 Porcelain, canvas, and wood 13 ½ x 6 x 13 inches
Four Dead in Ohio, 2009 Mixed media 20 x 22 x 20 inches
Black and Blue No. 15, 2017 Porcelain, canvas, and wood 13 ½ x 6 x 8 ½ inches
He’s got the whole world in his hands, 2015 Mixed media 23 x 19 ½ x 9 inches (approx.)
At Play in the Fields of the Lord #4, 2012 Ink on paper 13 ¾ x 22 1/8 inches At Play in the Fields of the Lord #9, 2012 Ink on paper 13 ¾ x 22 1/8 inches
Black and Blue No. 16, 2017 Porcelain 16 x 16 x 6 ½ inches Black and Blue No. 17, 2017 Porcelain 16 ¼ x 16 ¼ x 7 ¼ inches Black and Blue No. 18, 2017 Porcelain 10 x 9 ½ x 13 ½ inches
Left: Black Swan (detail)
Kingdom of Heaven, 2014 Mixed media 42 ¼ x 16 ½ x 14 inches Collection of Elliott Leonard and Roger Litz Mackandal, 2010 Mixed media 40 x 15 x 12 inches (approx.)
The Kron-Printzen, 2014 Mixed media 26 × 27 × 12 inches Untitled, 2013 Ink and watercolor on paper 14 x 17 inches USS Enterprise, 2018 Mixed media 27 x 36 x 29 inches (approx.) USS Palin, 2008 Mixed Media 45 x 26 x 21 inches
KEVIN SAMPSON: BUILDING THE ANCESTRAL HOME GROUND BY RANDALL MORRIS
Kevin Blythe Sampson was raised in Elizabeth, New Jersey, as the son of a civil rights leader. He initially trained as a sketch artist and joined the New Jersey police force, serving for twenty years as a detective, ten with police sketching. A series of family tragedies eventually propelled him to heal himself by making art. He understood intrinsically that everyday objects can retain the essence of those who touched them before, that they have stories to tell beyond their mere surfaces. Kevin Sampson’s work is made of reworked and transformed found objects, including cement, bones, tiles, and fabric, to which he adds various painting mediums, including acrylics, oils, and stains. These objects—the bones, the tiles, the tiny specks and leftovers from day-to-day living—are poetic archaeological elements that he sees as part of a conceptual vocabulary of impermanence and memory. In his works, one gets the feeling of a barely harnessed, dangerous energy, crackling with political, spiritual, and racial apprehension and redemption. His subjects are people that he has known, people who had been part of this world, and people who have lived lives that he thought ought to be remembered. By constructing sculptures of physical memories inspired by Caribbean and American Southern styles, he builds works that are about family in all forms. They are at once political and intimate, frightening and freeing. The intelligence of the art world will one day catch up to the wild genius of Kevin Blythe Sampson’s artwork. He is the urban keeper of the spirit yard, the dancer in the cold light of political edge-walking, the mover in the hot light of ancestral remembrance. He will dazzle you with rhetoric and then set you free alone in the power of his references. He is a transatlantic shrine himself. There is no reason in the world his name is not synonymous with any of the great white or African-American artists, dead or alive. He is the child of urban ring shout and the tired jubilant tears of civil–rights deacons who struggled through the harsh American everyday. There is anger and there is a deep empathy. His work does not apologize. It is tough love. There is nothing like it. Look here. Look here. Look here. Preach. Photograph of Kevin Blythe Sampson by Fred Scruton
Randall Morris is an independent scholar, curator, and writer. He is co-owner of Cavin-Morris Gallery, a New York City gallery that has showcased the work of self-taught and non-mainstream artists for the past three decades.
KEVIN SAMPSON: BUILDING THE ANCESTRAL HOME GROUND BY RANDALL MORRIS
Kevin Blythe Sampson was raised in Elizabeth, New Jersey, as the son of a civil rights leader. He initially trained as a sketch artist and joined the New Jersey police force, serving for twenty years as a detective, ten with police sketching. A series of family tragedies eventually propelled him to heal himself by making art. He understood intrinsically that everyday objects can retain the essence of those who touched them before, that they have stories to tell beyond their mere surfaces. Kevin Sampson’s work is made of reworked and transformed found objects, including cement, bones, tiles, and fabric, to which he adds various painting mediums, including acrylics, oils, and stains. These objects—the bones, the tiles, the tiny specks and leftovers from day-to-day living—are poetic archaeological elements that he sees as part of a conceptual vocabulary of impermanence and memory. In his works, one gets the feeling of a barely harnessed, dangerous energy, crackling with political, spiritual, and racial apprehension and redemption. His subjects are people that he has known, people who had been part of this world, and people who have lived lives that he thought ought to be remembered. By constructing sculptures of physical memories inspired by Caribbean and American Southern styles, he builds works that are about family in all forms. They are at once political and intimate, frightening and freeing. The intelligence of the art world will one day catch up to the wild genius of Kevin Blythe Sampson’s artwork. He is the urban keeper of the spirit yard, the dancer in the cold light of political edge-walking, the mover in the hot light of ancestral remembrance. He will dazzle you with rhetoric and then set you free alone in the power of his references. He is a transatlantic shrine himself. There is no reason in the world his name is not synonymous with any of the great white or African-American artists, dead or alive. He is the child of urban ring shout and the tired jubilant tears of civil–rights deacons who struggled through the harsh American everyday. There is anger and there is a deep empathy. His work does not apologize. It is tough love. There is nothing like it. Look here. Look here. Look here. Preach. Photograph of Kevin Blythe Sampson by Fred Scruton
Randall Morris is an independent scholar, curator, and writer. He is co-owner of Cavin-Morris Gallery, a New York City gallery that has showcased the work of self-taught and non-mainstream artists for the past three decades.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Visual Arts Center of New Jersey has been honored to work with artist Kevin Blythe Sampson on Kevin Blythe Sampson: Black and Blue. Sampson’s background—growing up in Elizabeth, working as a police officer in Scotch Plains, and living in Newark—has given him a wide perspective on issues of civil rights, social justice, and community awareness as they directly relate to our lives here in New Jersey. We are thankful to Sampson for sharing his artwork and allowing us to explore the intersections of race, American society, identity, and personal expression. The Art Center would like to thank Shari Cavin and Randall Morris of Cavin-Morris Gallery for their assistance throughout the development of this project. We also would like to thank Elliott Leonard and Roger Litz, and Joan and Jean Waricha for agreeing to loan works to the exhibition. Several people contributed many hours to the creation of this exhibition catalogue. We are grateful to Cathy Lebowitz who brought her knowledge, skill, and grace to the editorial process. Our thanks to Anne Russinof, who worked tirelessly in designing this book, and GHP Media, who printed it. And we want to express our great appreciation to Karen Patterson, who allows us a deeper understanding of Kevin Sampson’s work through the essay she contributed. Kevin Blythe Sampson: Black and Blue was organized by Mary Birmingham, Curator. As always, she has brought her curatorial prowess, critical eye, and insightful words to this project. We also thank Kimberly Siino, Exhibitions Manager, for whom no problem is unsolvable. Finally, we offer our deep gratitude to the National Endowment for the Arts for their support of this exhibition and catalogue. At Play in the Fields of the Lord (study for mural), 2017, Pen and acrylic wash on paper Photograph by Kimberly Siino
Melanie Cohn Executive Director
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Visual Arts Center of New Jersey has been honored to work with artist Kevin Blythe Sampson on Kevin Blythe Sampson: Black and Blue. Sampson’s background—growing up in Elizabeth, working as a police officer in Scotch Plains, and living in Newark—has given him a wide perspective on issues of civil rights, social justice, and community awareness as they directly relate to our lives here in New Jersey. We are thankful to Sampson for sharing his artwork and allowing us to explore the intersections of race, American society, identity, and personal expression. The Art Center would like to thank Shari Cavin and Randall Morris of Cavin-Morris Gallery for their assistance throughout the development of this project. We also would like to thank Elliott Leonard and Roger Litz, and Joan and Jean Waricha for agreeing to loan works to the exhibition. Several people contributed many hours to the creation of this exhibition catalogue. We are grateful to Cathy Lebowitz who brought her knowledge, skill, and grace to the editorial process. Our thanks to Anne Russinof, who worked tirelessly in designing this book, and GHP Media, who printed it. And we want to express our great appreciation to Karen Patterson, who allows us a deeper understanding of Kevin Sampson’s work through the essay she contributed. Kevin Blythe Sampson: Black and Blue was organized by Mary Birmingham, Curator. As always, she has brought her curatorial prowess, critical eye, and insightful words to this project. We also thank Kimberly Siino, Exhibitions Manager, for whom no problem is unsolvable. Finally, we offer our deep gratitude to the National Endowment for the Arts for their support of this exhibition and catalogue. At Play in the Fields of the Lord (study for mural), 2017, Pen and acrylic wash on paper Photograph by Kimberly Siino
Melanie Cohn Executive Director
This catalogue is published in conjunction with the exhibition Kevin Blythe Sampson: Black and Blue, on view at the Visual Arts Center of New Jersey, September 28, 2018–January 27, 2019. Cover and interior flaps: USS Enterprise (details) Photography by Jurate Veceraite unless otherwise noted Design by Anne Russinof Edited by Cathy Lebowitz Printed by GHP Media, West Haven, CT © 2018 Visual Arts Center of New Jersey ISBN: 978-0-925915-57-3
Visual Arts Center of New Jersey 68 Elm Street | Summit, NJ 07901 | 908.273.9191 | artcenternj.org Major support for the Visual Arts Center of New Jersey is provided in part by the Peter R. & Cynthia K. Kellogg Foundation; the Wilf Family Foundations; and Art Center members and donors.
This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.
This catalogue is published in conjunction with the exhibition Kevin Blythe Sampson: Black and Blue, on view at the Visual Arts Center of New Jersey, September 28, 2018–January 27, 2019. Cover and interior flaps: USS Enterprise (details) Photography by Jurate Veceraite unless otherwise noted Design by Anne Russinof Edited by Cathy Lebowitz Printed by GHP Media, West Haven, CT © 2018 Visual Arts Center of New Jersey ISBN: 978-0-925915-57-3
Visual Arts Center of New Jersey 68 Elm Street | Summit, NJ 07901 | 908.273.9191 | artcenternj.org Major support for the Visual Arts Center of New Jersey is provided in part by the Peter R. & Cynthia K. Kellogg Foundation; the Wilf Family Foundations; and Art Center members and donors.
This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.