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Emory Douglas: Black Panther and Rigo 23: The Deeper They Bury Me, The Louder My Voice Becomes
Exhibitions at the New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York City, July 22-October 18 and July 15-October 11, respectively
While getting lost on the way to the exhibits, slowly everything began to reveal itself. In the end, not only did getting off-centered suddenly lead me to a better destination, but also to a greater understanding of how the exhibits work within the New Museum’s philosophy.
The New Museum, as a concept, has introduced a progressive approach to displaying the work of artists and using exhibits to represent the museum’s overall commentary on society, politics and the empowerment of their audience. The building, located amongst a mass of boutiques, small coffee shops and independent movie theaters, has certainly found its station amongst its socially driven businesses in New York’s Lower East Side. It is clear this neighborhood appeals to the need of finding something—anything—new.
In two current exhibits, “Emory Douglas: Black Panther” and “Rigo 23: The Deeper They Bury Me, The Louder My Voice Becomes,” the presentation is subtle, despite the militant nature of their content. The New Museum allows the public to process and value the solidarity and humility of the Black Panthers and their imprisoned brethren.
The soft-spoken Emory Douglas greets visitors into the eponymously named exhibit, motioning the visitor toward the interior of the room. Posted on the walls are 1960s and 70s photos of family, his community, friends and revolutionaries. Going further into the house we see framed, old news clippings. Books on Marxism, Mao Tse-Tung, Ernesto “Che” Guevara and Malcolm X cover the shelves and the tables of the home. Torn pages of a Black Panthers book are placed like Post-it notes all over the home. The Emory Douglas exhibit feels like someone opened up the home of an elderly Black Panther to the public.
Emory Douglas, an artist and former Minister of Culture for the Black Panthers, worked with the organization during the 60s and 70s until its disbandment in the early 1980s. As the inspiration for many paintings, illustrations and cartoons for the Black Panther newspaper, the exhibit is a snapshot of the private and public life of the Black Panthers during the social calamities of that era.
One side of the exhibit displays illustrations of Africans from the continent and in Diaspora; to the right, well preserved front-page articles from The Black Panther newspaper. In the center of the exhibit, encased fixtures probe deeper into the Black Panthers’ philosophies on Marxism, socialism, and the right to self-determination. Several violent images of “The Pig” demonstrate contempt for any predator that consumes a community’s resources. Above, one sees the philosophers who have sustained the Black Panthers’ beliefs and their motivations to move beyond passive resistance of the civil rights movement toward militant action. Many pictures show Black Panther members holding large rifles, wearing black leather, impressive afros and dark sunglasses. Immediately, the Black Panthers uniformed presence evokes a reaction from people that destroys the former Christian influenced methods of protest.
With a documentary playing in the background, Douglas’ appearance in the film culminates the viewer’s experience. Herein Douglas recounts the organization’s support of the ideals of the United Nations, the Vietnamese, the LGBT community, and recently arrived Latino immigrants to American cities. That is, regardless of their obvious connections to Black Nationalism, the Black Panthers truly were for people of any race, religion or sexual orientation. Unfortunately, their social outreach programs to eliminate hunger, poverty and police brutality did not stop the constant raids of police and FBI seeking to convict the party of unverified crimes. Many members were tried but nearly all charges were dismissed…nearly. Those who were silenced by twenty- or thirty-year or life sentences are still seeking vindication, and are still acting out their rights as Panthers behind prison bars across the U.S.—and within the walls of the Rigo 23 exhibit.
Willful ignorance probably will drive some to respond negatively to Portuguese muralist Rigo 23’s “The Deeper They Bury Me” simplicity. Nevertheless, the “site specific installation” is the “bodily account” of the words of Herman Wallace, founder of the first Black Panthers prison chapter (the Black Panther Party), and one of the now infamous Angola 3. Rigo 23 manages to sustain the voice of Wallace through this re-imagining of the prison cells and how it may feel to be encaged and isolated in such a dismal place. The complete title of the installation, “The Deeper They Bury Me, The Louder My Voice Becomes,” and the exhibit itself, pose many questions about what is forcibly hidden and what is screaming to be heard. Without knowing the history of the Angola 3 or their efforts to stop abuse, rape and advocate for equal hearings for all prisoners, the viewer can evaluate how the installation reflects a greater discourse about disclosing violations of human rights, even within prison cells.
Rigo 23’s exhibit is located in a hidden, almost disguised interior between the third and fourth floors. Because of its straightforwardness, some may think the exhibit inadequately describes the experience of being a political prisoner. Yet detractors must understand the subtlety of the artist and Wallace’s message: what does it say about a people that crowds out all signs of continuous moral decay, but still includes them in the smaller network of society? The combination of “Rigo 23” and “Emory Douglas” examine how social minds react to the consequences of our national hubris.
August 26, 2009
frontispiece: Emory Douglas, courtesy of the New Museum; images courtesy of New Museum
