5 The Second Annual Tulsa Artist Fellowship, Earthbound, Used Astronomy and Art to Propose an Equitable Future By
Lilac Burrell
An Interview with Edwin Velázquez: Afro-Puerto Rican Art Movement Pioneer By Shakti Aniorte-Mendez
Exploration of Black and Basel By Aklil Molosi and Indrias Kassaye
Will African Art Reach 25% of Global Art Revenue by End of 2024? By Lilac Burrell
Photographer Saddi Khali
The terrors survived by Native and African Americans throughout American history cannot be stamped out of America’s story by the passage of time, yet the Tulsa Artist Fellowship is taking steps to use art for reconciling multi-cultural and generational traumas.
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The Second Annual Tulsa Artist Fellowship, Earthbound, Used Astronomy and Art to Propose an Equitable Future
By Lilac Burrell
Historic preservation, astronomy, and fine art were linked like constellations at the second annual Tulsa Artist Fellowship (TAF). The theme of the three-day artist showcase was “Earthbound”. Programming for “Earthbound” at the Philbrook Museum of Art, Build In Tulsa, and Flyloft, among several Tulsa Artist Fellowship-reserved spaces, the fellowship centered on bringing Native American and marginalized survival stories, language, and lineage to the forefront.
“The fellowship is really about getting arts practitioners together and spending time in one space,” Executive and Artistic Director of TAF, Carolyn Sickles said. “we knew we needed somewhere that people could step away from what’s happening within their workspace, and be around the Fellowship Community. All of a sudden it was like our community space is actually Tulsa’s community space.”
Despite the large spaces for egress like Dreamcatcher Park, the Guthrie Green Lawn, and Gathering Place Park, there’s a dark energy in Tulsa that requires attention. Heat, sunshine and fellowship can’t overshadow the gravity of loss there. At the site of the Tulsa Massacre and the Trail of Tears’ endpoint, Tulsa, Oklahoma is spiritually turbid. Earthbound’s astronomical theme provides a safe silence for reflection and empowers TAF’s community building as an apt space for reconciliation.
The kick-off preview featured a black-out-themed event that reflected dark skies. The preview’s star, the first Black woman to fly a spacecraft and travel to outer space, Dr. Sian Proctor. Her laser-carved gesture art meshed art, technology, and science to pay tribute to the future and how to create a sustainable future on the Earth by making a JEDI — just, equitable, diverse, and inclusive — space. Her works include lunar and martian dusts to tie the astral elements together.
The kick-off set an imaginative tone with Pythonpowered motion by art Mattaniah Aytenfsu in an ears shot of the fireside chat with Dr. Proctor and Space For Us founder, Cheyenne Smith.
Dr. Proctor took time to explain how we the people are the paintbrush that fuels what’s happening on our planet right now. Nothing could have underscored the thoughtfulness of their conversation about creating the future than a live performance of the 49 songs, Native American songs of war turned to songs of peace.
““Cosmology has figured into our culture since ancient times because the stars taught them when to plant and what the seasons were for timekeeping. ” Native history children’s book author Traci Sorrell said. “Native
ways of thinking and knowing come from ancient practices that are carried on today by oral tradition. Oral tradition can carry as much weight as literary in indigenous circles.”
The First Friday event at the Tulsa Fellowship’s Archer Studio empowered Artists in residence like Adam Davis and Eyakem Gulilat to present photography that meshed with the dark-room and celestial elements of the showcase. When the audience joined the moon outside, trans-and-gender queer performers graced the audience with “Cabaret” hosted by Karl Jones. Across race, gender, and ethinicity, TAF created a safe space for all people along the margins.
The cloudless sky on the second day brightened a restful morning. In a traditional and southwestern interior vernacular, maple wood-accented windows saw guests fill the Build In Tulsa for A Conversation On Being, organized by Le’Andra LeSeur. LeSeur’s panel brought together Black Femme Literary Preservationist Alexandra Jane; Artist and Curator, Jessica Gaynelle Moss; and Multidisciplinary Artist and Educator Pamela Council.
The conversation highlighted discernment — judging
situations to forefront care and avoid violence. Alexandra spoke about care transcending the general by being specific and detail-oriented by considering the individual. When asked how people without a strong communal background can empower themselves, Jane said people should think about what they bring to a community and offer that without expecting anything back.
“Often spaces have antiquated processes and frameworks that have been suggested for us to fit in rather than creating new worlds for us to exist in,” Moss said. “It’s important to trust yourself and know that when you’re in a situation that doesn’t feel right, it’s probably not right. You have you use your own discernment to know whether your sacrifices are necessary.”
Sunday afternoon’s programming at Tulsa’s Gathering Place Park and Philbrook Museum of Art brought the fellowships reconciliation and future-focused tribute to resolution. Traci Sorrell encouraged sharing native ways of thinking and knowing by learning about Native American historical and present narratives. According to the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs, there is a surviving 2% of Americans who identify as Native American with other identities, although only
.8% identify as Native American alone.
Her encouragement nearly demands a land acknowledgment considering the 574 federally recognized Native American tribes in the United States. Her awareness of the link between Native Americans and cosmology underscores the importance of Earthbound as a central theme for the fellowship. All land in the United States has Native American lineage and is scarred by Western colonialism. Organizations like the National Congress of American Indians and Illuminative.org cooperate to give agency to Native Americans to tell their story and history.
An Interview with Edwin Velázquez:
By Shakti Aniorte-Mendez
This summer, had the pleasure of interviewing Casa Silvana’s founder, Edwin Velázquez Collazo, about his work, past, present and future. Considered a pioneer of the Afro-Puerto Rican art movement, Collazo has been pivotal in transitioning Puerto Rico into the international art scene, drawing from over 30 years of cultural work.
Edwin Velázquez Collazo is an Afro-Puerto Rican artist, curator, journalist and founder of the arts and research center Casa Silvana in Humacao. Born and raised in Santurce, San
Juan, he has had a journey full of renowned events on and off the island, reclaiming and highlighting Puerto Rico’s history, which, like many other Latin American countries, has been whitewashed and reduced to colonial imaginaries.
Collazo curated the first exhibition of contemporary art by Black artists in 1996, Paréntesis: Eight Black Contemporary Artists, featuring world-renowned artists Awilda Sterling Duprey, Daniel Lind-Ramos, Arleen Casanova Ferrer, Gadiel Rivera Herrera, Jesús Cardona, Liz D. Amable, Ramón Bulerín, and Edwin himself. He is also the first Black Puerto Rican curator for this year’s Bienal Black Brazil Art, happening simultaneously with Puerto Rico being represented for the very first time at the Venice Biennale’s 60th International Art Exhibition: Stranieri Ovunque – Foreigners Everywhere, curated by Adriano Pedrosa.
Despite new funds and projects supporting Puerto Rico’s art scene, the longevity of these initiatives remains uncertain. Support for Black artists often fluctuates with trends, making permanent initiatives crucial. This is where Casa Silvana plays a vital role—a research and cultural center with Puerto Rico’s first and only art collection by Black Puerto Rican artists from the island and its diaspora, open to the public, artists and researchers.
Shakti Aniorte-Mendez: Let’s begin by talking about your past—where you’re from, how you grew up, and your journey in art. You studied figurative art before transitioning to abstract representations of the world around you and beyond. Can you tell us more about that evolution?
Edwin Velázquez Collazo: Well, I’m a native of Santurce, [one] of the only settlements founded by Black people in Puerto Rico. I was born in the Municipal Hospital of San Juan, which today is the Puerto Rico Museum of Art. Blackness and art have been integral to my origins from the very start. I studied and specialized at the Escuela de Artes Plásticas y Diseño de Puerto Rico (School of Plastic Arts and Design of Puerto Rico)—located on the grounds of El Morro castle— one of the oldest art schools in the country.
Although my training was entirely academic and figurative, I found that the language of abstraction resonated with me the most. It was through abstraction that I could best communicate and express myself. Thus, I developed my entire career within Puerto Rican abstraction, always using nature as my starting point. I believe my love for nature is deeply rooted in my parents’ backgrounds and experiences in the rural areas of Puerto Rico. This connection to nature has guided me back to where I am today, living in the rural area of Humacao (where my father was born).
SAM: In previous interviews, you have discussed the various elements that have nourished your practice and shaped it over the years—Mother Nature, love, spirituality, death, the mystical and religious, and family members like your mother and your son. Could you tell me more about how, why, and in what ways all these interests and aspects of your life have influenced your work?
EVC: As a child, I was an avid reader, not much of an athlete. I spent a lot of time in the school library—it was my place to dream. Coming from a low socio-economic background, my mom and I lost everything when I was very young and had to move to public housing. Books became my refuge, allowing me to travel in my own world.
Nature has always inspired my work, and I research extensively before starting. For instance, in my series Seasons, the piece A Walk through the Yunque involved immersing myself in the rainforest at various times of the day. When I presented this abstract work, the director of the NEA recognized the Yunque in it, achieving the connection I aimed for.
Another painting, Night Rain, followed a similar process. I observed raindrops on Maria De La Paz Street at night, capturing their glow, and then worked in the studio until dawn. The person who bought it later told me what it reminded her of. Ten or 15 years later, at a party in San Sebastián, her husband told me, “In my house, I can change all the furniture except for your painting. If I move it, it will cost me a divorce.” [Laughs]
Achieving those connections is very important to me as an
artist. I believe it humanizes me, allowing me to understand my surroundings and respectfully convey the most exciting parts. We artists are responsible for transforming others through our work, and I take that responsibility very seriously. We can profoundly impact people and must handle that power with care.
SAM: In 1996, you curated Paréntesis: Eight Contemporary Black Artists after a year of preparation and, I’m sure, many years of research. Where did the idea for Paréntesis come from, and why was it named that?
EVC: In the ‘80s in Puerto Rico, investigations into African heritage, specifically in culture and art, began. Several artists noticed that most representations of Blackness were folkloric or customary. A group of young artists creating more contemporary work started questioning why there was only one vision for Black art when it could encompass a multitude of representations. We decided to join forces for this exhibition, and I was named curator and organizer. I chose the theme and title, selecting artists not focusing on folkloric work. Although that work is respected, there must also be space for other visions.
I invited around 25 artists, but it was a bit contentious as some wanted to remove the word “Black” from the title. This was non-negotiable. We wanted to proudly identify as Black people. As a child, my mother always told me I was Black, and I’ve always embraced my identity.
In the end, only eight artists accepted the challenge. We spent a year organizing it with the blessing of Ruth Enid, a well-known journalist and activist, and Mayra Santos-Febres, who was starting as a writer. We prepared ourselves spiritually and physically, knowing the controversy that would follow. We held meetings in the artists’ workshops, critiquing one another to prepare for external criticism. It was like preparing for a marathon.
When the exhibition opened, it was controversial. Despite contacting four leading newspapers and two art critics, none wanted to cover it. We had to rely on friends with access to newspapers to get any coverage. The exhibition ran for almost a year throughout the country, targeting Afrodescendant communities in places like Humacao, Carolina and Vieques, connecting us with the rest of the Caribbean.
We also wanted to take it to the Casa Roig Museum, a house owned by a powerful family in the eastern area, which was donated to the University of Puerto Rico. The community didn’t support the cultural activities there because [historically] only the enslaved and workers could enter. When we arrived as eight proud Black artists, it was a scandal. People even asked the museum director to resign, and the university’s administration wanted to suspend the exhibition, but he refused.
We took it upon ourselves to go through surrounding communities, put up flyers, and fill Casa Roig for the first time. The community entered through the front door. One
anecdote that stands out is a worker who, upon seeing the flyers, told his colleague he was leaving work early to take his children to see the exhibition so they could have a reference for their Blackness. That is what an exhibition can achieve and what identity reaffirmation projects like Paréntesis can accomplish.
SAM: As you mentioned, before Paréntesis in 1996, Afro-descendant representations in Puerto Rico were strictly folkloric or traditionalist. This expectation still exists today, especially in places where the culture, legitimacy and history of Afro populations have been denied, placing them in the past, such as Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic and Mexico (where I’m from). How has it been for you, and what does it mean for you to be an Afro-descendant artist moving away from these expectations?
EVC: One has to be strong and proclaim Afro identity in an art world that clearly has a Eurocentric view. Our Afrodescendant communities have been denied access to economic growth for decades, devaluing their financial and social power. There are very few Black people with capital power. Therefore, asserting your identity as an Afrodescendant within a population that denies Black people is quite complex.
Another issue is the denial of Puerto Rico’s place within the Caribbean and Latin America. Our political position heavily impacts the culture of this country and its creators. We don’t have an embassy, so we can’t make cultural exchanges as other independent countries can. This exclusion prevents us from fully participating in Caribbean and Latin American spaces, even though our identity is Caribbean and Latin American.
A Spanish historian using the resources from the Afroteca once told me, “The Caribbean is so diverse, and they speak different languages—Dutch, French, Creole, Spanish, English.” Yes, we speak different languages, but we share a single language of experience. We’ve all been enslaved, we’ve all been colonies, and that unites us. I can take any Afro-Puerto Rican exhibition to these countries, and they will understand it because of our shared history. Language isn’t a barrier because the visual language is universally understood.
It’s very clear that we are Caribbean and that the Caribbean is Afro, which is important. This was the same dialogue I had with the Bienal Black Brazil’s team. As cultural ambassadors and workers, we leave our political situation to the politicians, but we are a nation with its own identity, language and characteristics. We are not the United States. We know who we are. Our political position is cultural. Our cultural autonomy surpasses politics, and so we fight for it. We are different from the U.S. as a country. We are not Americans, and the international cultural world must understand us in this way.
SAM: How do you feel Puerto Rican society has progressed in terms of self-determination and proudly identifying as Black in the years since Paréntesis?
EVC: Society is very complex. Although there is pride in the union of three races—Spanish, Taíno and African—the African contribution to Puerto Rican culture is not fully recognized. For example, 90% of our food is African, with very little Taíno heritage in our gastronomy. Similarly, our vocabulary has a lot of African heritage. However, there is a denial due to the Eurocentric view stemming from colonialism. The denial of African heritage and Black relatives is a common struggle in Puerto Rico.
Even my own identity has been questioned because I’m lightskinned, and some people call me mulatto. But I proudly embrace my identity. My father is Black; my mother and grandmother are Black. So why wouldn’t I embrace it? I’m constantly asked why Casa Silvana only promotes Afro-Puerto Rican art when there are hundreds of art spaces showcasing non-Black artists. Why do they question Casa Silvana so hard? Why do they want to change its objective? That’s an everyday struggle.
We’ve had to work to educate the public that Afro-art exists in Puerto Rico. There is an Afro aesthetic, and it’s time to reinvestigate and celebrate it.
SAM: You mention the lack of cultural spaces and initiatives in Puerto Rico centered around visual artists, especially Black visual artists. Casa Silvana has been an important step in changing this. Not only does it focus on contemporary artists with the first collection of art by Black Puerto Rican artists in Puerto Rico, but it also spreads knowledge and archives the island’s history, which has been whitewashed. What do you think about today’s cultural situation and art scene for Afro-Puerto Rican, Afro-Caribbean, and Afro-Latin American artists? How has the visibility of Afro-Puerto Rican artists changed since 1996?
EVC: Currently, there is a boom in Puerto Rico that is unmatched by any other Caribbean or Latin American country. We’ve had a total immersion in re-investigating the country’s Afro-art for the past two or three years, and there’s still a long way to go. We’re about to have the first exhibition in an official museum in Puerto Rico, called Negres, at the Museum of Contemporary Art. This exhibition spans from the ‘80s to today’s diaspora. We had done Pensando Identidades in the past, but this is the first time we’re including the AfroPuerto Rican diaspora.
Paréntesis was the country’s first independent exhibition of Black artists, not tied to any institution. Subsequent exhibitions on Afro-art have often been secondary to a congress or summit, treated as fillers. We’ve always provided an alternative space that no official space had considered. For 28 years, through various exhibitions, Dr. María Alba Torres and I have been advocating for this.
Dr. María Elba’s work at the UPR Museum in Río Piedras, covering from Campeche up to the ‘60s and ‘70s, presents an entire history of Afro art. This aesthetic validates what we’ve been developing. However, the question remains: how long will this boom last? Currently, there are many funds available through the Mellon Foundation. It’s crucial to focus
on permanent projects rather than temporary ones, like our art collection or the Afroteca.
The visibility of Afro-art has improved internationally. The art world needs it to refresh itself, and we are not alone in this. Researchers in other countries, like Canada, are also working on this. We have two of their published books in the Afroteca, and Harvard University Press is publishing two volumes on Afro-Latin American art this year. The Caribbean is regaining an international position, exemplified by figures like Jorge Pineda in the Dominican Republic, who sadly passed away. My task is to include Puerto Rico within this movement as a Caribbean, Latin American, Afro-descendant country.
SAM: I’d like to take a moment and focus on Casa Silvana. This is an incredible space you’ve created with the support of those who share your values and vision for the Afro-Boricua community. Not only was it your grandparents’ home, but you also named it in honor of your grandmother. Can you tell me more about Casa Silvana and how your grandmother has inspired this project beyond the name and location?
EVC: We built Casa Silvana in an Afro-descendant neighborhood where the entire community is family—we are cousins, second cousins and third cousins. The land belonged to my great-grandfather, and Silvana was my grandmother. She was a woman of strong character and immense love, qualities I learned from her. My uncles were community leaders, and the house was always full of meetings, political discussions, and culture. My grandmother always ensured we had food, coffee, and something to drink. She would send us to get the coffee as she started cooking, a dynamic common in our Afro-descendant societies—sharing everything with love.
Casa Silvana was born from a project of love and healing
inspired by my family. We want to demonstrate what my grandmother taught us. It’s not just an art space but a place to share. This is a project to decentralize the arts and recover the essence of home.
It’s also a space for the recovery of plants. My partner, Joy de Jesús, is a vegetarian, and we make natural food and drinks during our openings, using produce from our garden. We don’t serve alcohol but celebrate with food, a custom from our African past. Casa Silvana is about creating food awareness through the idea of a home garden, especially since around 80% of the food in Puerto Rico is imported. We focus on rescuing ancestral recipes and providing a space where people can appreciate art in a rural setting.
We want to escape the notion that art appreciation requires visiting a museum. We aim to redefine the concept of making and appreciating art; it can be anywhere. Given our political situation, changing the country can’t be done through political parties alone but through our communities. I am contributing to social change by creating Casa Silvana, creating an art space for the Afro-descendant community.
SAM: How have women influenced your work? You mentioned that the inspiration for projects like Casa Silvana, Cimarronas: Black and Afro-descendant Artists, Afro-identities, ICP for the Afro International Summit 2022, Afro Sur, Afro Queer, and Braiding Identities++ comes from Maranta Power: a revolution through the hair of Black women. Could you elaborate on the importance of women in your artistic and life journey?
EVC: I was raised by my mother, a single mother who gave me life and saved my life. When I was born, the doctors said I wouldn’t survive, yet I’m here today thanks to her nurture! From a young age, I was taught to be proud of my Afrodescendant identity. She always supported me as an artist. I dropped out of my first year of university to work and help support the family financially. After a year, my mother encouraged me to focus on studying art because she noticed I was happiest when making art. She told me, “food will always find its way to the table. I want you to look back in your old age and know you did what you wanted with your life.” So I did.
Growing up, I was very close to my grandmother. Women have always surrounded and influenced me. My grandmother’s character always caught my attention—her power, leadership, and ability to keep everything and everyone together. That presence inspired me to work with female artists.
At the moment, I’m working on Cimarronas: Trenzando Identidades, the first exhibition where Afro-Puerto Rican artists from the diaspora and the island are joined. It’s at the Inter American University of Bayamón and has been very successful. We hope to have it traveling for a while. As a curator, one of the things that fills me the most is allowing young artists to reaffirm and redefine their identities. We are doing a video interview with several young artists discussing how academic institutions have tried to make them change their style, ideas and image to sell more. In other words, they are pressured to change their work as Afro-artists because Afro-art doesn’t sell.
Another undeniable aspect is that women are leading the Afro movement. The reclamation of their hair has been a revolutionary act against the societal vision and violence imposed on having straight hair. Generations are now healing from these acts of violence, and today, there is criticism against the companies that make those products. One artist explained to me that upon graduating, she decided to shave her head and reclaim her entire identity through her Afro hair as an act of rebellion and to combat the damage caused by chemicals. This revolutionary act is one of the reasons I focus on working with Afro-Puerto Rican women. They are powerful, excellent workers, committed and professional.
As a historian and curator, there is a reality and responsibility to be aware that female artists have been relegated to a secondary role in art history. We need to reconstruct this history with this awareness and give more opportunities to these artists who have been disadvantaged, especially within Afro-art. Today, three of Puerto Rico’s artists with the highest international visibility are Afro-descendant women: Daniela Ramos, Awilda Sterling and Las Nietas de Nonó. From the diaspora, we have Amber Robles-Gordon, who, thanks to our residency, has reconnected with her Afro-Puerto Rican roots.
SAM: We’ve seen with many artists that their work often receives more acclaim outside their place of
origin. Is there a difference between the reaction to your work inside and outside of Puerto Rico and the U.S.?
EVC: I believe that the colonial condition has led the vast majority of Puerto Ricans to leave the island. There’s a belief that what comes from outside is better than what is produced within the country, which is a colonial mindset. noticed this primarily through my blog, Puerto Rico News, which is dedicated to promoting Puerto Rican art. At the beginning of this blog, realized how complicated it was to collaborate with cultural institutions and receive their press releases. So, I decided to move independently to promote the diaspora’s art.
I noticed a stark difference when asking for press kits from institutions, museums and galleries outside the island, as I would receive them in less than 24 hours. I realized that to be seen here, I would need to succeed outside the country. PR News is the number one blog in Puerto Rico today, yet some museums still don’t send me their press releases. I have been doing this for free for ten years because I love art and want to promote Puerto Rico’s vast cultural offerings. Five or six exhibitions open almost every week, yet the mainstream media does not cover them. It’s contradictory to have a completely free tool to promote their work but not use it.
When I started Casa Silvana, it was clear to me that I needed to focus on being seen outside the country to be recognized within it. It’s a massive networking job, connecting with organizations worldwide, informing them about Casa Silvana and keeping them updated on our activities. Thanks to this effort, I have grown the project and attracted attention to it.
One of the reasons it was essential to create the Afroteca is to allow people worldwide to use its resources. We already have 40 or 50 works by 30 artists in our collection of Afro-Puerto Rican art, and we hope it will continue to grow. By 2026, we aim to start moving it outside the country as the first and only collection of Afro-Puerto Rican art. Despite being in a challenging political colonial situation with limited resources, where obtaining state sponsorship for an artist from the island to attend a biennial is difficult due to the lack of our own embassy, I won’t just sit with my arms crossed. I will continue to fight and achieve as much as I can. If there’s nothing, we have to invent it—there’s no other way.
SAM: Twenty-eight years after Paréntesis, you are the first Afro-Boricua curator for the Black Art Biennial of Brazil. Additionally, Puerto Rico is represented for the first time in the Collateral Events organized alongside the Venice Biennale under Stranieri Ovunque - Foreigners Everywhere, curated by Adriano Pedrosa. How do you feel the “official” cultural world has
changed its views, opinions, and approaches towards Afro-Puerto Rican art and artists?
EVC: The work has been ongoing for the past ten years. Right now, we have important curators in the United States, such as Marcela Guerrero at the Whitney Museum, Taina Caragol at the National Portrait Gallery, Carla Acevedo-Yates at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, María Elena Ortiz, who was with the Caribbean Cultural Institute of the Perez Art Museum and is now at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, and Marina Reyes Franco at the Museum of Contemporary Art of Puerto Rico, who is doing excellent work in the Caribbean. They’ve been instrumental in inserting Puerto Rico into the Afro-Latin American and Caribbean landscape.
The work with the Bienal Black Brazil was a year-long process of dialogue, decision-making and persistence. Even though it’s a biennial focused on Brazil, there will be six invited countries for the first time, including Canada, the U.S., Costa Rica, and Puerto Rico. I hope it will eventually become a biennial of Black art for Latin America or internationally. This is the third edition, and Patrícia Brito is doing excellent work! It’s the only Black art biennial in Latin America, so we must promote and support these projects. Casa Silvana was chosen as an institution, and I was selected as curator. I’m hoping these collaborations will continue and that Afro-Puerto Rican art will keep being showcased, creating connections with the youth and Latin America.
We need to continue motivating curators to research Afro-art within their own countries. There is still much work to be done in Puerto Rico, but new promises exist within curation and art history. We have Afro-descendants who are aware and proud of their identity, like Andrea Sofía Mato, who is pursuing her master’s degree; Alejandra Rosa, who is doing her Ph.D. in Afro-performance at Harvard; and Estefanía Vallejo, who is doing her Ph.D. in art history in Florida. However, we must continue developing new researchers within Puerto Rico through scholarships, letters of recommendation, and growing resources. We currently have María Elba Torres and myself, but we’re close to retirement.
The Afroteca serves that purpose. In Puerto Rico, we didn’t have a specialized library on African diaspora art. There is still a need to study Afro art within the island versus the art of our diaspora and compare their similarities and differences. AfroPuerto Rican art is germinating, and we need to delve deeper into it and rewrite the island’s art history. We’ve been doing that with this collection and the Afroteca: providing resources to new generations.
SAM: I would like to share with you my favorite quote that you have mentioned, as well as one quoted by the co-founder of Corredor Afro, Marta Moreno Vega, from Unity and Struggle by Amilcar Cabral:
The artist has to educate himself, read, and know what is happening in society because if not, he just becomes a painter who uses some techniques. If he wants to be an artist, he has to humanize himself …
Culture, whatever the ideological or idealist characteristics of its express, is thus an essential element of the history of a people. Culture is perhaps the resultant of his history just as the flower is the resultant of a plant.
Both Paréntesis and Casa Silvana, as well as everything that has emerged from them, have allowed Afro-Puerto Rican artists to break that massive systemic exclusion and/or selective inclusion. Your work has been a cultural legacy and has paved the way, but it has also absorbed the work and influences of those Black revolutionaries who came before.
EVC: Casa Silvana aims to reinforce and include the identities of our Black artists. We hosted the first Afro-Queer exhibition in Puerto Rico, and many of these artists will exhibit at Casa Silvana next year. The inclusion of women and queer artists has given me hope for more acceptance and recognition of diverse identities. There is a new generation that is conscious and proud of their whole identity, and Casa Silvana will continue to take on the challenge and responsibility to create a space for them.
As a curator, I will continue with new ideas and projects, even though I may have to work less due to a heart attack I suffered a year ago. Like any evolving project, see Casa Silvana turning into a research center and decreasing the number of exhibitions, perhaps to one or two a year, while focusing more on presenting the collection, moving it to other parts of the world, and using the Afroteca as an open resource for researchers. We are preparing to have a room and secure funding for artist stipends so that we can host month-long residencies for them to use Afroteca 24/7. We’ve done this in the past, and I’m currently in conversation with a Spanish historian who plans to return to Puerto Rico this year and stay here. It is working, as researchers from outside are already coming to us.
Dr. María Alba has a book planned for publication this year or early next year. Yolanda Pizarro will write one about AfroQueer art. Research is underway, and we hope it continues, bringing more awareness, exhibitions and events and that Puerto Rico can be included in more international events. I would like to have a presentation of Puerto Rico at the Dakar Biennale and maybe someday at the 1-54 fair.
There is still much to study from the past. We have to go back beyond Campeche, our first recorded Afro-descendant painter, and the beginnings of Puerto Rican plastic arts. There is an empty part of art history where the Black artist is not mentioned. What happened? Why did it happen? My goal is to continue researching and start publishing. want to write about all that has happened and is happening to leave a record for future generations. It must be written so that we are not made invisible again. We aim to become a research space for Afro-art and expand it throughout the Caribbean and Latin America.
Miami Art Week
An Exploration of Black and Basel
By Aklil Molosi and Indrias Kassaye
Miami Art Week 2023 and Art Basel Miami, the headline event that catapulted the first full week of December onto the calendars of art aficionados worldwide, arrived with a burst of energy and numerous offerings.
We began our exploration of Black art and creative expression at Cimafest, a musical celebration of Afro-Cuban funk featuring Grammy-nominated star Cimafunk in Miami’s Wynwood district.
“We are going to celebrate what happens here with gratefulness and love and music, and funk, and Afrorhythms,” said Cimafunk, prior to his energetic performance channeling the likes of Fela Kuti and James Brown. “It is a celebration of the Afro rhythms.”
And that was what we had come to Miami to find, a celebration of African rhythms, not just in music, but all things artistic and creative.
With the launch of Art Basel’s Miami Beach edition in 2002, the global art world’s spotlight swung firmly onto Miami and its end-of-year offerings. The resulting annual economic boom is in the hundreds of millions. For Black creatives, however, finding welcoming spaces to showcase their work and benefit from the lucrative opportunities has been a challenge.
The response that we found to underrepresentation and the lack of inclusion and equity was a mushrooming of parallel spaces, venues, shows and events targeting Black creatives and the global audiences seeking their work.
AfriKin Art Fair: The Beauty and Brilliance of Global Africa
Energized by the Afro-rhythmic vibes of CimaFest; our first foray into the visual arts offerings of Miami Art Week was the AfriKin Art Fair under its 2023 theme: The Beauty and Brilliance of Global Africa.
AfriKin delivered a multidimensional exploration of Africa’s global creative heritage. Events from Dec. 3-10 brought industry and thought leaders together to discuss issues and trends of concern to the global African community. These included harnessing Artificial Intelligence to empower Black communities, the role of creative industries in addressing snowballing efforts to curtail the teaching of African American history, and resisting censorship that removes schoolbooks that have given voice to the struggles and triumphs of communities of color in America from the Harlem Renaissance onward.
On opening night, students from South Florida schools also were embraced, as they stood by their favorite artworks and shared their reflections with viewers. One student took it upon herself to explain two works by Jamaican-born multidisciplinary artist Yrneh Gabon. In Just another day, an aerial photograph, Gabon captured the daily work of salt mining in Lake Retba (Pink Lake, Senegal). Motioning across the exhibition space, the student pointed to a second photograph, Mining family, aptly describing it as the “aftermath” of this labor and a confrontation of an irrefutable truth: the grueling labor that goes into providing what many take for granted is too often overlooked.
Design Miami: Where We Stand
Our next stop took us across the bay from the mainland to Miami Beach and on to Design Miami, the fair that bills itself as “the global authority for collectible design.” Its 2023 edition theme was Where We Stand, exploring “the role design plays both in reflecting and responding to the world around us—throughout history and at this pivotal, polarized moment.” Design Miami, with its organizational ties to and location across the street from the Miami Beach Convention Center, the venue for Miami Art Basel, was our first opportunity to see how Black creatives are represented in the broader industry.
One notable mention was Wexler Gallery’s Design Miami booth and its continuing showcase of the work of Ethiopian American designer Jomo Tariku, whose signature Africainspired pieces are being acquired by prominent museums, including Dallas Museum of Art, Philadelphia Museum of Art, National Museum of African American History and Culture, Metropolitan Museum of Art and Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Hollywood is also taking note, with Tariku’s creations gracing the set of Black Panther—Wakanda Forever, and additional blockbuster Hollywood appearances in the works for 2024. Tariku’s pieces also have been included in the interior design of Vice President Kamala Harris’ residence at the Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C.
“Design Miami 2023 has been fantastic,” said Tariku outside the Wexler booth with its unmistakably Africa-inspired wallpaper featuring stylized meedos (Amharic for hair-pick) that Tariku designed for Design Miami. “We’ve gotten amazing responses from the general public and from people within the industry, magazines and curators.
“The highlights have been two things: the wallpaper that I designed to complement all the work, and the Zagwe wardrobe,” which, true to Tariku’s signature references to Africa’s artistic and design heritage, is a contemporary reflection on the unique architecture of the 11th/12th century Yemrehana Kristos Ethiopian Orthodox cave church.
Tariku also debuted his first works in metal. “One of them is a meedo version in bronze and the Kundug Pembe chair, also made out of bronze with a black cushion,” he said.
“Kundug is a xylophone that is made out of horn found in Nigeria. The chair is based on what people throughout Africa use. We use [cattle horns] for many things, including jewelry, utensils, decorative elements, weapons and cups. ‘Pembe’ also means horn in Swahili. So, it is a combination of things from the western and eastern parts of Africa.”
Joining Tariku was Jamaican American multidisciplinary artist and designer Malene Djenaba Barnett, making her debut at Design Miami with Wexler Gallery.
“The work have here at Wexler is exploring my African Caribbean heritage, focused on mark-making that you find in mud architecture in West Africa,” said Barnett. “Primarily, the women would decorate their homes. And I’m very interested in building on the language of surface pattern design. Memories of Home, a ceramic tile mural that I made using Jamaican clay, represents that here. Each one is individually glazed and hand-pressed, and no two are alike.
“And then there’s Mom’s Smile, Granny’s Eyes, which is a woven portrait depicting my maternal grandmother and great-grandmother. It’s really critiquing the ideas and the decisions around migrating to America, which is what my grandmother did to pursue a better life. She had to leave her children for six-plus years and have her mother raise them while she pursued this better life. Was that decision better after all?
“And then the last series is a series of yaba pots that I made in Jamaica that are paying homage to the first potters that were brought to Jamaica in Port Royal. Those potters were Akans from Ghana. I was thinking about those moments during the colonial period and enslavement where our culture was not broken. Inside each yaba is a royal blue color, which is dedicated to Cecil Baugh, a master Jamaican potter known for his Egyptian blue glaze.
“I feel great because this experience is building on my legacy as well as building on the legacy of Black makers. Even though I’m one of few Black women that are showing here at Design Miami, I hope my presence creates more opportunities so that we see more Black women in this space and have our work in different spaces, so our legacy can be preserved in multiple institutions as well as with collectors.”
Barnett and Tariku are both founding members of the Black Artists and Designers Guild (BADG), which aims to create “space for new Black diasporic futures … and to advance a community of Black makers, build inclusive and equitable
spaces, and invest in our ancestral futures.”
Barnett and Tariku also participated in one of the Design Talks’ daily panel discussions on Design Miami’s “Where We Stand” theme. The panel, Expanding the Design Canon: Acquisition, Activism, and Data, presented by Wexler Gallery, explored inclusivity in the design industry and the underrepresentation of Black artists and designers in the “canon.”
“Malene and I have discussed, and we both know the importance of events like this and having more Black artists and designers in this space, including ourselves,” Tariku said. “Both of us are practicing at the highest possible stage in our design and art careers. We should be here, and we should have been here much sooner. But it is what it is. We’re here [now], and we have a lot to say other than just showing our work.”
“I started the Black Artists and Designers Guild in 2018,” said Barnett. “It’s a collective of Black makers. From being a part of BADG, we’ve been able to build a relationship, collaborate on different projects ... You can’t put a price on the community that we built with BADG. People are coming together, sharing resources and continuing to lift each other up. Even in those challenging moments, we know that there’s going to be a BADG supporter that’s going to help us because it’s become our family.”
Another handful of Black and African artists exhibiting at Design Miami also presented on its curatorial theme, Where We Stand. One panel, Healing Through Design, shed light on design as a tool for transformation. Panelist and Nigeriabased designer Nifemi Marcus-Bello directly addressed “Where We Stand” in his piece Omi Iyọ (saltwater in Yoruba),
a hull-shaped mirror with salt flowing from it, falling to the ground of the Design Miami space.
The piece represents the plight of undocumented immigrants in their journey across the Mediterranean from West Africa into Europe. Marcus-Bello, who spoke with someone who experienced this harrowing trip, said, “[He] told me a horrific story about how he lost his friend … saltwater getting into his mouth and salt being such a traumatic thing for him to experience. I thought this was an opportunity to tell the story through the element, in this case, salt.”
A leading South African ceramic artist, Andile Dyalvane also graced the panel, describing his work as spiritually guided, an answer to the call of his ancestors whom he honors as the givers of his “gift of making and seeing.”
Dyalvane had to take his collection, iThongo, home: “The purpose of this work, of these messages, is needed there. By the community, by the ancestors themselves as a way of restoring, as a way of assuring that within this generation there are some of us who are ready to continue where they left off and relieve the trauma that they’ve gone through.”
Thus, the iThongo exhibit began at his family’s homestead, the village of Ngobozana in South Africa’s Eastern Cape. One sculpture, uMalusi, remains as an offering to the community and ancestors of Ngobozana.
Miami Art Basel
The Miami Beach Convention Center, across the street from Design Miami, is a massive space for the display of art. Our visit to Miami Art Basel coincided with one of the fair’s busiest days. In our search for Black representation, we were thrilled to see the giant works of Kehinde Wiley gazing down upon
the moving masses.
Industry critics hailed Nigerian-born artist Ndidi Emefiele (Gallery Rosenfeld, London) as an emerging talent to watch. Her collages honored the labor-intensive routines of everyday women and their need for rest and self-care. Chicago-based Kenyan artist Wangari Mathenge’s The Ascendants XXII (Ambivalence) (Pippy Houldsworth Gallery, London) depicted a woman taking a break from reading a book on a couch, gripping a knife, her facial expression suggesting she might have no qualms using it on the figure lying on the couch next to her—continuing the themes of women on the verge and female empowerment.
Another African-diaspora female artist, Sudanese Canadian Azza El Siddique made her mark with a solo exhibition at Bradley Ertaskiran’s booth, the installation Final Fantasy, drawing on ancient Egyptian and Sudanese traditions, complete with a translation of the Egyptian Book of the Dead.
Philip Martin Gallery presented California-based Sierra Leonean American artist Muzae Sesay’s works, and African American photojournalist and cultural activist Kwame Brathwaite’s photograph, Mer (1968). The activist artist, whose work profoundly impacted Black culture and political consciousness, died in April 2023. Brathwaite was renowned for popularizing the Black is Beautiful movement in the 1950s and ‘60s and for work documenting life in Harlem, Africa and the diaspora.
Another iconic African American photographer shown at Art Basel Miami was Gordon Parks (1912-2006). His untitled print of a Black child being asked to pick between two dolls—reaching for the white doll while staring at the Black doll, remains a profound statement on racialized identities in America. The photograph at the Jack Shainman booth was from Parks’ series documenting educational psychologist Dr. Kenneth B. Clark’s “doll test” in 1947 Harlem.
Jack Shainman Gallery had perhaps the largest representation of acclaimed Black artists at the fair with works by Nina Chanel Abney (U.S.), El Anatsui (Ghana), Emanoel Araújo (Brazil), Barkley L. Hendricks (U.S.), Odili Donald Odita (Nigerian American), Paul Anthony Smith (Jamaican American.), Lynette Yiadom-Boakye (U.K.), Hank Willis Thomas (U.S.), Toyin Ojih Odutola (Nigerian American), Tyler Mitchell (U.S.), Ifeyinwa Joy Chiamonwu (Nigeria), Nick Cave (U.S.), and Diedrick Brackens (U.S.).
April Bey’s Colonial Swag series at the Vielmetter booth was a stunner. Also at Vielmetter, we found Lavaughan Jenkins, Jared McGriff (previously featured in Sugarcane), Robert Pruitt and the Daylight Studio Model Series by photographer Paul Mpagi Sepuya.
Additional notable mentions of Black artists at Art Basel
included textile artist Qualeasha Wood at Pippy Houldsworth Gallery, Tschabalala Self at Galerie Eva Presenhuber, Ethiopian American Tariku Shiferaw, Leonardo Drew and Eritrean American Ficre Ghebreyesus at Galerie Lelong.
As we were leaving Miami Art Basel, another iconic Black artist’s work came into view—a Jean-Michel Basquiat Untitled 30¼ x 22-inch, graphite, colored pencil and charcoal-onpaper piece at the Van De Weghe booth. Basquiat provided the final dose of contradicting emotions—joy at seeing Black artists and their work elevated at this prestigious event, mixed with bittersweet reflections on the struggles and sacrifices made along that journey and concern about who ultimately benefits from their work.
Ten North Group
Escaping the Miami Beach crowds, we returned to mainland Greater Miami’s Opa-locka neighborhood. Ten North Group curated several artists of African descent in Art of Transformation, describing this weeklong series of exhibitions and programs as a “dynamic process of community building through creative place-making.” Our evening visit to Ten North, featured Voguing: A Performing Art Workshop with interdisciplinary artist Edrimael Delgado Reyes.
Cartographies of Displacement, an exhibition curated by
Helen Ceballos and Abdiel D. Segarra Ríos, presented Puerto Rican artists’ works, serving as a reflection on what emerges from various forms of displacement. Beyond capturing how displacement is navigated in everyday life, the artworks delved into the production of subjectivities, challenging hegemonic identities and promoting a reevaluation of historical narratives. The exhibition invited viewers to contemplate the interconnectedness of individual and collective experiences, offering an exploration of the implications of displacement on identity, memory and societal narratives.
Ten North’s Arts & Recreation Center (ARC) held a second exhibition curated by Tumelo Mosaka. Fragmented Worlds/ Coherent Lives addressed challenges of immigration, exploring themes of fragmentation, mobility and adaptation. Operating at the intersection of tangible and subconscious ideas, the exhibition’s artists challenged prevailing perceptions of what Africa embodies in the contemporary context.
Historic Hampton House Museum of Culture and Art
Despite the hectic schedule, we made time to visit the Historic Hampton House Museum of Culture and Art for its inaugural exhibition during Miami Art Week. Black celebrities would come to rest at this “iconic Green Book Hotel” after performing on Miami Beach during Miami’s segregation
era, when it was against the law for Black people to stay overnight. The hotel became an important gathering point for the civil rights movement, and with its rich history, a fitting venue for Gimme Shelter, “a collection of important works from Greater Miami’s top gallerists and local artists as well as the international diaspora.”
CADA
Finally, on Dec. 10, the last day of Miami Art Week, Contemporary African Diaspora Art (CADA) held its 14th annual CADA Art Basel Panel Discussion at Miami Beach’s Art Deco Museum, addressing issues of the global Black art market, the African Diaspora Renaissance Movement, art collections at select HBCUs and Black fashion as art. Curator and founder of CADA, Ludlow Bailey, held his annual exhibition under the theme, Black Euphoria, showing artists’ works from across Africa and the diaspora.
Celebrating creativity and expression, Miami Art Week extends far beyond the bustling Convention Center and Art Basel Miami. While Art Basel remains the focal point, it can be overwhelming, with attendees vying to connect with the art amidst the crowds. The magic unravels when attendees step into the more intimate creative spaces across the city.
One week is not enough to see everything Miami Art Week has to offer. Even in our specific quest to take in the art of Black Miami, logistics challenges, including navigating heavy traffic and limited opening hours at some of the big pavilions, forced us to make difficult choices and miss out on important shows, including Prizm, which is dedicated to Black artists and one of the first to be run by a woman.
Perhaps AfriKin and the Amadlozi Gallery at the African Heritage Cultural Arts Center in Miami’s Little Haiti/Liberty City neighborhood have found the best way to ensure the
Black art they offer is accessible to everyone visiting Miami Art Week. AfriKin beat the Miami Beach crowds by opening early. Both AfriKin and Amadlozi, where Strange Fruit, the exhibition paying homage to and featuring works by Miami’s posthumously celebrated Black artist Purvis Young, kept their doors open late into the evening and after the official Dec. 10 end of Miami Art Week .
Taking advantage of the additional days, we saw Strange Fruit, along with New York-based Nigerian artist and entrepreneur Ómò Oba (HRH—a prince from three royal lineages)
Adétòmíwá A. Gbadébò, represented by Diana Lowenstein Gallery at Art Miami, another major satellite fair during Miami Art Week. Gbadebo had also taken part in CADA’s Black Euphoria show.
Strange Fruit provided the backdrop for an interview with Prince Gbadebo, during which he reflected on Purvis Young: “I just wondered ‘who’s this artist?’ I thought he was a living artist. Maybe it’s not similar to Basquiat, but it was very raw. And the funniest thing is that it’s older than Basquiat. If you research his life, it was a painful life … To hear some people have 3,000 of his works and they are soon to make millions off them.
“Nobody collects 3,000 pieces for no reason. You collect two, you collect ten, you collect 20, great. 3,000, though? There’s a
financial gain to that. Is that money going to go to his estate, to his family? … A lot of people don’t understand the plight of artists ... Even the most famous ones who were kissing the asses of the rich. Deep down, they know what it’s like to feel pain as an artist. You don’t show it, but you know.”
With these questions on what it takes for Black artists to succeed, enjoy the fruits of their labor while they live and leave a legacy that their families and communities can enjoy, we conclude our 2023 exploration of Black and Basel. But we cannot end on a down note, because albeit seeming incremental at times, Black artists are making great strides, and Miami has given us cause for celebration. We, therefore, come full circle and leave you with the words of Cimafunk, with whom we started 2023 Miami Art Week: “Goca sin miseria. Goca La Vida. Goca Del Tiempo.” Enjoy without misery. Enjoy your life. Enjoy your time.
THE MIAMI-DADE TALENT SEARCH IS BACK FOR ITS 15TH YEAR!
Epilogue
Will African Art Reach 25% of Global Art Revenue by End of 2024?
Among art fairs happening in 2024, we talked to three of the largest Afrodiasporic fairs and found they all were organized and directed by Black women.
By Lilac Burrell
The art world is cool when it’s not exclusionary. A world where everyone’s art and creativity are acknowledged, highlighted and respected equitably isn’t the one this article is written from. By talking with gallerists and directors of some of the world’s most well-known art fairs, Sugarcane amplifies how global art institutions are better when they include Afro-diasporic art from around the world.
According to Art Basel and UBS’s 2023 Art Market report, the global art market generated around $68 billion in 2022. Africa’s estimated contributions only are around $15 billion, according to Statista. But this is a good thing, considering that Africa makes up around 18% of the global population and contributes around 22% of global art market revenue. As global art market revenue grows annually, it begs the question, “Will 2024 be the year that African art reaches 25% of global art market revenue?”
Throughout the year, art fairs popped up all over the world and made an imprint on local communities by driving tourism, exposing folk to local creatives, and generating art market revenue. The Prizm Art Fair, 1-54 Marrakech, Investec and Bamako Encounters art fairs occurred in the winter; Also Known As Africa (AKAA) in Paris occurred in autumn; and the Venice Biennale, Frieze Fair New York and Dak’Art weren’t hot only because they happened in the summer. 1-54 Marrakech took place in Morocco in February. Founded in 2013, this fair promotes contemporary African artists. According to Diptyk, featured continental
galleries this year included L’Atelier 21 and African Arty in Morocco, Galerie Atiss Dakar and M CONCEPT in Senegal, and Retro Africa and kó in Nigeria. A handful of galleries from the European region also were featured.
“It’s like 19-to-23 square meters for a medium-to-large sized gallery depending on how many artists that you’re showcasing,” 1-54 Marrakech Head of VIP and Gallery Relations Kami Gahiga said. “We offered a diversity of practices showing a huge number of galleries, between 80 to 100.”
She beamed when mentioning how the fair showcased South African photography pioneers from the ‘60s and ‘70s. Gahiga’s eyes and smile kept their shine when highlighting the artists Ousmane Bâ and Kika Carvalho. Bâ is a French painter with a Fulani background whose work borrows from Japanese art styles, and Carvalho is a Brazilian oil painter whose works capture the majesty and mystique of melanin. Gahiga worked to bridge the gap with diasporic expression, so 1-54 Marrakech also programmed an exhibit in Harlem, New York in May 2024.
Including continental and generational artists emboldened the way we experienced a vast mélange of Black contemporary expression at 1-54 Marrakech, “It’s really a tapestry of artistic forms from many philosophies that you’ll find,” Gahiga said.
East of Marrakech, in Senegal, Dak’Art was the largest art fair in Africa. Its acclaim was for more reasons than Kehinde Wiley’s BlackRock co-producing the fair this year. Call Senegalese history a linoleum print, the way art and design are carved into it. A mini-history lesson: Senegal’s marriage with art was officiated in the 1960s by Senegal’s first president, Leopold Sedar Senghor. A
poet himself, Senghor was known for joining art and politics throughout his 20-year presidency.
Senghor helped organize the 1966 art festival, Tendencies and Confrontations, an early example of sharing contemporary African art globally. It took place on the anniversary of Senegal’s independence from France. He saw Tendencies and Confrontations as a way to perform negritude—a literary framework raising the sum of Black identity, cultural values and consciousness. The festival didn’t pool artists together to define Blackness singularly; it was an open forum through which Black complexity could be amplified and showcased through visual art. Senghor’s choices made a resonating impact on art’s esteem in Senegal, although American critics deemed the festival sketchy, and Senghor’s critics denigrated him as a neo-colonist. Luckily, Dak’Art’s torch was taken up by none other than Black women this year as it was directed and curated by Salimata Diop. She focused on stoking the conversation while people were on the same level and used Dak’Art to establish mechanics for Afro-descendant artists to make stable, global careers in art beyond Western art institutions.
“For me, the biennale (Dak’Art) is the opportunity to say something meaningful about our times from the perspective of Dakar,” Diop said. “These are voices and perspectives that we don’t hear. They exist but are not shown.”
Dak’Art’s theme this year was The Wake. The Wake had a broad scope because it handled the emotional impact left after the work was encountered, the world awakened by and exposed to diversity post-COVID and ultimately, how single artists approached the theme. Black women at the helm meant that this fair was an innovator for intersectional art curating experiences.
Intersectionality at Dak’Art was approached by the subthemes that visually expressed studies in post-slavery, post-colonialism, feminism, and professor Christina Sharpe’s book In The Wake: On Blackness and Being.
“The history and legacy of the Black arts festival has never been a Black arts or Pan-African TK. It’s more than that,” Diop said. “We have artists from Argentina, Brazil, Colombia and even the U.S. Dak’Art is a fair for Afro-descendants, the diaspora and Africa. I want it to be recognized as an international event.”
The scope of conversation included the need for Blackcentered international art fairs to uplift Black creators who want to be full-time artists. Sometimes, art and art fairs are romanticized, which strips an artist’s work from the enterprise that supports their lifestyle. The Prizm Art Fair didn’t shy away from sustainable art careers;
like Dak’Art, this year, it too, was directed by a Black woman.
“In addition to the artwork being a part of a cultural conversation, it also very much is about commerce,” Prizm Art Fair’s founder, Mikhaile Solomon said. “Oftentimes, as a part of the pedagogical side of this business, we ignore that commerce is a huge part of this.
“Oftentimes, our creative capital is leveraged by other communities, but not our own,” she said. “My goal is not only to create an artistic dialogue for Black and Brown communities but also to make sure that the wealth generation that comes from participating in the art market impacts Black and Brown communities. It currently doesn’t.”
Art fairs that highlight art from throughout the diaspora aren’t located solely in Africa. The most recent Prizm art fair was in Miami in December 2023, and Solomon proudly shared how Prizm has made a global impact since it started in 2013.
“Prizm is an important fair because there are many artists who are important contributors to the art market who were shown at Prizm years ago,” Solomon said. “We don’t get the same support that huge fairs get, so we’ve had to bootstrap the organization. I want to see more people from our community supporting our institutions.”
Solomon’s point about Black-centered philanthropy resonates across fields. With a history of Afrodescendants’ structural exclusion from wealth accumulation, the art fairs of 2024 gave global audiences and institutions opportunities to support, highlight and promote more Black art.
Solomon continued, “Don’t burden Black organizations with your complaints if you won’t help them. You can’t complain if you can’t support.”
Photographer
Saddi Khali
visited Barbados in 2024 to capture participants of the Sacred Conversations with our Ancestors spiritual retreat for Sugarcane Magazine. These young women spent time healing and regenerating their spiritual connection to the universe.
