Imagine being ripped from your culture like a sheet of paper. There is no way to defend yourself; you do not have time to collect your weapons. There is no warning. Fast forward to a long journey over several seas to a place in which you are alien. You ask for a glass of water and are met by a whip. Your language is not understood. Your ankles and wrists are deeply wounded by the constant friction of thick iron shackles. You've learned to cope. You've learned to communicate.
From slavery until now, folk art has been used to communicate and to express the plight of African Americans in this country. The earliest art produced by blacks in America was folk art. Slaves used it to preserve religious beliefs, mark underground-railroad paths, perpetuate African burial methods and to express the pain of captivity. Today, African-American folk art, while more sophisticated, still remains true to its original methods of using everyday materials to produce art in personal and religious contexts, as well as civil rights.
Although folk art is indigenous to no one group of people, it is an integral part of the survival of African-American history, much of which is not taught openly in academia.
The Smith Robertson Museum and Cultural Center keeps African-American folk art alive every day. Their current exhibit, "Treasures of the South: Mississippi African American Folk Art," is on display until Dec. 31. Four Jackson artists—Charles Lindsay, Sharon Simmons, Carl Dixon and Maurice Ellis —are featured in this exhibit.
Gregory Jones, the museum curator, gladly leads me into the exhibit. His knowledge and passion for art bleeds through his voice. He begins, "Here we have four distinct styles."
As I approach the first collection, the pieces, from afar, appear as simple portrait drawings. As I come closer, I notice that these pieces are made of wire, similar in texture to that of a clothes hanger. Charles Lindsay creates portraits and objects, such as his "Self Portrait," from a sole piece of wire. From the fingernails on his "Afro American Princess" to the distinguished expression on the face of his "Smith Robertson" piece, which he constructed in just under 45 minutes, Lindsay's detail is miraculous.
I am awed by the abstract offerings of Sharon Simmons. "Simmons work is a bit more abstract, more representational than the others," Jones comments. The birth of Simmons' works comes from the death of her son. It is also the therapy she uses to cope with that death. Jones says, "His death brought her closer to God." She uses cardboard and clipboards, in addition to traditional artistic mediums such as paint, glaze and canvas to conceive works such as "Dancer" and "SAM," in which she can see her son. Simmons' wild splashes of blues, yellows, blacks, reds and grays interpret feelings of pain, of understanding and of peace.
The work of Maurice Ellis vividly represents biblical stories such as "Moses Parting the Red Sea" and historical events like "Harriet Tubman's Underground Railroad." "Salvation" depicts a soul emerging from a dead man's corpse, in the midst of a chaotic scene. These clay-like sculptures are little movies on pause with striking accuracy. The real genius of these three-dimensional pieces is that they are all made of colored paper, tissues, paper towels and gift paper.
"I just started twisting paper one day," Ellis says. It's amazing how a delicate piece of a Kleenex can be molded into such realistic features. Ellis has only been working with soft paper for about a year now.
"I had no guide, no blueprint, I just meditate and speak with God," Ellis explains of where he receives his inspiration. Although most of his current pieces are based on stories from the Bible, he is working on a collection of events of African-American history.
Carl Dixon captures John F. Kennedy, Bobby Rush, Harvey Johnson, Frank Melton, Ray Charles and Martin Luther King, Jr., among others, in wood. "It's a unique way of expressing and keeping memories," he says. Dixon carves strong-lined, true-to-life depictions of amazing people. The face as well as the soul of the person is conjured. His most powerful piece is the "March on Washington." Faces in the crowd are entranced by the power of Martin Luther King Jr.'s speech. His gestures, composure and courage flow through the wood as soft wind through the leaves of a tree, subtle and commanding.
"All art is innate," Jones says. "It can be enhanced by academia, but the core talent is a gift from God."
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