Jamaica has a very contentious history with public art and, particularly, with some of the official monuments to key historical moments and public figures that have been erected since Independence. As I write this post, there are rumblings about the recently unveiled maquette for a statue to the popular Olympian track athlete Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce and,... Continue Reading →
Art Museums and Social Hierarchy – Epilogue
Sometimes you think you said everything you had to say on a particular subject, and perhaps too much--my two-part post on Art Museums and Social Hierarchy was not exactly short (you can find part I here and part II here). But then something else happens, and you are forced to rethink some of your assessments,... Continue Reading →
Art Museums and Social Hierarchy – Part II
This is the second part of a two-part blog post. The first part can be read here. How can [art] participate in networks of power that its content willfully rejects? Often, so-called ‘political art’ simply aestheticises protest or resistance. Sometimes, it has the effect of moral licensing – instilling in its viewer a false sense... Continue Reading →
Art Museums and Social Hierarchy – Part I
This is the first of a two-part post. The second part, which takes the issues to the Caribbean and Jamaica, can be found here. Museums are managers of consciousness. They give us an interpretation of history, of how to view the world and locate ourselves in it. They are, if you want to put it... Continue Reading →
Travel Notes While Rome is Burning – Part II
Part I of this blog post can be found here. Below now follows part II. But let me return to my reflections on my New York City trip. My first full day was spent in the world of Outsider Art, a world which has always both attracted and troubled me—attracted, because it provides exposure... Continue Reading →
Travel Notes While Rome is Burning – Part I
Last month, I had the opportunity to travel to New York City for a few days. I arrived in the city on the day of the Women’s March, January 20, too late to see anything, let alone to participate in the march, but still early enough to have to get out of my taxi to... Continue Reading →