Black Women in Art Essay
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Black Women in Art
Historically and currently African American women use art as a way to express themselves, their emotions and as an act of resistance. In this paper, I will discuss the various ways two very influential artists, Laurie Cooper and Lorna Simpson, use imagery to uncover and forefront the various forms of oppression that affect their lives as African American women. Since the late 1970s, African American art, as a form of self expression, explores issues which concern African peoples worldwide. During this time period, African American artists use symbols which represent the struggles, despair, hopes and dreams of a people striving to debunk prominent stereotypes and dismantle the intersecting oppressions of race, class and…show more content…
It can be inferred that perhaps the number of bricks listed is the number of bricks used in the construction of the building.
Simpson first began putting hair in her work around 1990, and it can lead to many different interpretations. The only clue she provides to viewers is an accounting of the number of twists, braids, and locks. It has been suggested that the hair represents the age of an old woman, presumably one who has seen and experienced much in her lifetime.
The way Simpson challenges the viewer to think, her willingness to be provocative, confrontational and intelligent are a few things which enable her to stand out as a leader of African American female artists.
Laurie Cooper is another outstanding black female artist. She challenges the shame and embarrassment society has taught her to feel for being a woman of color by shedding that ideology both figuratively and literally within her work. Laurie Cooper is at the front line of Pennsylvania’s art community raising society’s awareness regarding issues of racism and self liberation.
In Cooper’s series, Facing Reality, she features two prints. One of a black woman with a look of agony and shame on her face and a white mask crumbling off and conversely, in the second print, it is a man, wearing a face of anger and
Although these writers have done a stellar job of working to make names for themselves as individuals, it is with the help of each other that their writing reaches more eyes. Via their various social media platforms — Twitter, mostly —they promote each other and celebrate the accomplishments of their peers. It’s a beautiful thing, y’all.
So even though there are definitely lists out there highlighting young black women writers, I'm gonna just go ahead and hit you with another one because there’s nothing like reading an essay that’s actually accessible to me rather than forcing myself to relate to something that wasn’t written with me — or someone like me — in mind. Here are a few writers I’ve been vibing on lately.
Giorgis is a self-proclaimed “awkward black girl, black feminist writer, organizer, artist, editor...” and so much more, as listed on her site, Ethiopienne. She’s written for sites such as The New Yorker, The Guardian, and The Hairpin, but most recently, she’s been spitting truth on the intersection of pop culture, race, class and gender on BuzzFeed.
Whether it’s a silly piece on treating your edges with respect or a serious story on using the internet as a coping mechanism amidst a failed mental health system, Giorgis is always serving up realness.
As a fellow East African girl with her own share of name-pronunciation issues, here’s an essay that resonates with me on a special level: "Where Everybody Knows Your Name."
Reese has contributed great stuff to Gurl.com and Golly Magazine but her Accidental Virgin column on The Gloss is my Scandal and Ms. Reese is my Olivia Pope — for the record, I’ve only seen like two episodes of Scandal but I still reserve the right to use this metaphor.
Following the chronicles of someone’s vagina might seem odd — then again, people even live-tweet their poops at this point — but trust me, there is good writing to be read here. It’s so much more than just a "will she or won’t she have sex" sort of thing. Reese is willing to put herself out there as she fearlessly navigates topics others fear to tread.
One of my favorite’s is a departure from her usual light-hearted pieces that takes a hard look at interracial relationships and street harrassment.
Adewunmi writes about stuff like internet culture, feminism, television, and art. When you’re feeling thirsty, you can mosey on over to her Crush of the Week column for a thoughtfully curated celebration of wildly attractive people — both in the traditional and non-traditional sense.
She also serves as a Culture Editor at BuzzFeed UK, where she’s written absolute gems like, "The 15 Most Important Things About That “Magic Mike XXL” Poster." It’s kind of a masterpiece. I think about it often.
But Adewunmi writes about serious topics too — not that a description of Channing Tatum’s cap as a necessary accessory to his performance to Ginuwine’s “Pony” isn’t serious — and a piece that definitely deserves a read is "An Article About Black Women Shouldn’t Have To Come With A Warning Label." She begs the question, “What is it that prevents people from seeing themselves in us?” and breaks down the empathy gap as Adewunmi explores the reasons behind why she can manage to find herself in characters like Matt Saracen or Phoebe Buffay as a black woman but most white folks don’t bother attempting to relate to the Joan Claytons and Whitley Gilberts of the television world.
Haile is an Eritrean-American. Okay, I admit I am too, but that’s not why I chose her. She's a short-story writer and essayist as described on her Tumblr. She’s written for sites such as The Awl, The Guardian, The Toast, and Hazlitt. She calls herself a Cumulus Advocate and serves as the Cloud Twitter emissary.
Aside from her year-long project, during which she reads one short story a day on a quest to highlight writers who aren’t white men, Haile also takes time to write about everything ranging from the Horn of Africa to Tracee Ellis Ross.
Again, I’m not being biased here (I totally am) but the piece of hers I hold closest to my heart is "'Ertra, Ertra, Ertra' And The Problems With Patriotism Performed At A Shrill, Unpleasant Register." Haile unabashedly says what all Eritreans have always secretly thought: our national anthem sucks. The sound of our national anthem being sung is, at best, cause for some mild auditory discomfort and, at worst, the unsolicited gift of a splitting headache. In her hilarious essay, Haile manages to find the good in a song that once made her run and hide under the sink as an 8-year-old.
5. Pilot Viruet
Viruet is basically a television goddess. She’s the television/entertainment editor at Flavorwire, founder of the highly entertainingTV Hangover, and has written for outlets such as New York Magazine and The A.V. Club.
I look to Viruet's writing for all of my television watching needs. For example, this past Friday, I read her article "Cancel All Your Weekend Plans and Binge-Watch Aziz Ansari’s Unbelievably Excellent Netflix Series ‘Master of None’" and did exactly as the headline suggested. I must say, the only disappointing moment in the series was when I realized that I’d finished the final episode. I shall wait for season two with bated breath and you shall take all of Viruet's recommendations to heart because she will never lead you astray.
Of course, she doesn’t only write about television. In fact, an essay of hers that I love isn’t really about TV at all. In "Black Exhaustion," Viruet delves into the overhwelming fatigue that comes with being black.