Images Courtesy Of Jack Shainman Gallery
But the Panthers are just part of the story. Panther photos, video and
ephemera are juxtaposed with artwork and artifacts unrelated to the
movement yet evocative of American black experience. The show expands
from the particular to the general, engaging race in America from a
variety of angles.
The exhibition was organized by San Francisco's Yerba Buena Center
for the Arts in conjunction with Claude Simard, a curator associated
with New York City's
Jack Shainman Gallery. Shainman represents many of the contemporary
artists on view; the gallery also supplied a number of historical
pieces.
Though Shainman is a well-known source for African American artists
and ephemera, Yerba Buena's association with a commercial gallery
raises questions about conflict of interest. The show favors Shainman
artists, who gain exposure on this small museum tour -- "Black Panther
Rank and File" originated at nonprofit Yerba Buena, traveled to
nonprofit Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art and now hangs in a
university gallery. That kind of exposure can translate into higher
earnings for Shainman artists, casting a shadow over this otherwise
strong show.
On view: photos and video capturing Panther rallies; Panther
pamphlets and newspapers; oral histories of former members. Those
unfamiliar with the group will leave with a strong sense of what they
stood for. Among the Panther ephemera hang works by 20th-century
artists engaging racial issues either head-on or tangentially --
Lawrence Weiner, Andy Warhol,
Carrie Mae Weems, Margaret Bourke-White and David Hammons among them.
Historical artifacts -- 19th-century cartoons, banners and lithographs
-- round out the show.
And so the show veers from the didactic to the open-ended, from
artifact to artwork. It's an evocative mix, one that works more often
than it fails. On occasion, though, frank historical objects cast weak
artworks in harsh relief.
Take the page describing the proper transport of slaves, circa 1789.
Among its many harrowing details, the text counsels that slaves
negotiating the Middle Passage by boat should be brought on deck daily
for exercise. The author recommends that males should be exercised by
jumping up and down in their chains. "This, by friends of the trade,"
the author writes, "is called dancing." And on it goes, in chilling
detail.
Nearby, a photograph of a clenched fist mounted on cardboard stands
six feet tall; it's a 2005 artwork by Hank Willis Thomas. The black
hand is raised in solidarity with black power but the arm betrays the
trappings of success -- a gold-and-silver watch hangs off the wrist, a
gray suit sleeve clothes the arm. The gesture deflates the Panthers'
Marxist leanings and questions the viability of rage in a time of
prosperity. But next to that 18th-century slave tract, such ironies
feel shallow.
Other contemporary works come off better. Michael Britto's satirical "Dirrrty Harriet Tubman"
videos recast the Underground Railroad conductor as a gun-toting
Blaxploitation-style film heroine. One memorable segment finds Tubman
and a crew of six dancers gyrating to Britney Spears's
raspy "I'm a Slave 4 U." Tubman and company coordinate moves miming
hoeing, cotton-picking and brow wiping -- a horrible vision and a
hilarious one at the same time. You laugh even as you think you
shouldn't.
As for the Panthers themselves, they come off as a media-savvy
group. Their look was totally put together: the shades, the afros, the
black berets and leather jackets falling to the hip. Even their symbol
-- a fierce crouching cat, claws extended -- has remarkable graphic
power. These folks knew the power of an image.
But what of the Panthers' critics, of which there were many? For the
most part, this is a pro-Panther project. Yerba Buena worked closely
with former Panther Bill Jennings to construct the show; he's even
credited for suggesting the project.
To the organizers' credit, questions about the viability of a
movement employing violence to beget tolerance do arise. (By the
mid-1970s, even Seale had tempered his aggressive stance.) But the only
overtly critical work comes from the painter John Bankston, who points
out Panther homophobia in his 2005 canvas "The Sermon." In it, two
latter-day Panthers have seemingly strong words for a transvestite and
his companion.
But I can't fault "Black Panther Rank and File" for its point of
view. Its engaging mix of artifact and artwork leaves room for a
multiplicity of opinion.
Black Panther Rank and File, at Maryland Institute College of Art Fox Building,1303 Mount Royal Avenue, Baltimore, Monday-Saturday, 10 a.m.-5 p.m, Sunday noon-5 p.m., closed major holidays, to Dec. 16. http://www.mica.edu