I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out of the house on Saturday. Fires have been destroying parts of LA and Ventura Counties since Thursday afternoon. Thick smoke enveloped the sky, masking the sun. Colors of blush and tangerine spilled through the windows in my house. Reflecting on the destruction and praying for lives lost made for a beautifully somber afternoon. I went out anyway. I’m blessed to live a mile or so from the The Underground Museum. Not wanting to travel too far in this air, I made my over. Stopped at a red light, I looked over to see a woman wearing a blue dust mask. A reminder of the reality that fires were still burning some 40+ miles away, only 20 percent contained.
I was greeted by familiar faces when I walked in. Brandon and Justen are great guys that hold down the fort most days at TUM. They are also amazing artists you’ll get to know soon. I sat with Justen for a few minutes, catching up, before he prepared me for what I was about to experience. He spoke about the response to the show, how emotionally stirring and charged it is. How it confronts the viewer and forces you to connect to the subjects. He told me it was okay to cry before I walked through the double doors and closed them behind me.
The walls were painted purple. TUM purple. Noah’s purple. Gold lettering invites you into the space, letting you know what you are about bear witness to.
“Every human body carries the memories and marks of its origin story.”
I was alone in the space. There was a hollowness in the brief moments of silence. My footsteps. An Asante chant in the background. I feel transported to another place and time— but home. Deana Lawson’s photographs feel like they were made decades ago. I feel a familiarity with the subjects spaces and a kinship with subjects themselves. I know these people. I know someone that knows these people. I’ve looked down on these people. I’ve looked down on myself. This is the confrontation. Being pulled in by the familiar while simultaneously wanting to pull away and disassociate from “these types” of people. I’m breathing heavy as I write this.
“But bodies are also like vessels that contain all of the knowledge, love, and culture needed to imagine themselves beyond the boundaries of earthly acres, and oceans.”
Walking from room to room, the Asante chant ever present, I feel the ancestral plane that is so often spoken of (hey Black Panther) permeating from the corners. We are connected. Soweto to South Central. We are connected.
By the time I reach the last image the tears have pooled in my eyes. We are a beautiful thing.
Viewers notes: I am not an art critic and this is not a critique of the show. Just my thoughts on what I just experienced.
Curatorial Statement, Deana Lawson PLANES
KINGS, 2018 Deana Lawson
BARBARA AND MOTHER, 2017 Deana Lawson
ETERNITY, 2017 Deana Lawson
There is so much more to see. More to sit with. More to experience. This show will be on view until February 17, 2019. Check out TUM’s site to learn more about the artist and this amazing work.
