Los Angeles artist Lezley Saar recently joined forces with Kamil Oshundara and Maurice Harris to commemorate the end of her avant-garde show, Salon des Refusés: a demonstration of nonconformity which calls into question issues of race, gender and madness. For Saar, this was one of her very first retrospectives. The show, which made waves across Los Angeles, was both a proclamation of self and a subtle nod to her mother, Betye Saar, whose work was central to the Black Arts Movement of the 70s.
Saar’s exhibition at the California African American Museum plays with the artist’s own identity, given the influence of her mother’s racially and politically-driven artwork along with the context of growing up as a mixed-race woman with an outwardly white ‘passing.’ Saar channels this integral, coexisting identity throughout Salon des Refuses, which is named for a Parisian salon of rejected artists. The salon features three of her most recent collections among other mixed-media installations, all of which celebrate figures that have been marginalized from society — either sexually, mentally, spiritually or racially.
Lezley Saar Salon de Refuses install / photo by Brian Forrest (CAAM)
Even though none of the collections featured in Salon des Refuses explicitly deals with issues of race, the racially ambiguous nature of Saar’s subjects provides a through line to the artist herself and serves as a framework for the exhibition’s challenge of culturally normative identities — underlined by its showing at CAAM in our modern political climate.
Saar’s tendency towards surreal, Victorian-era art lends itself to a rare visual experience. She favors gothic, 19th century patterns as it allows her “to let you know that things that were happening back then are still going on now,” be it a gender renaissance or maltreatment of the mentally ill.
In her series “Madwoman in the Attic/ Madness and the Gaze” Saar explores the role of mental illness in society. Each central, marginalized figure is surrounded by smaller scenes of memories, fantasies, and dreams that add depth to their stories and grant us access into their thoughts, something that legitimizes the experiences of a group that is so often misunderstood and dismissed as irrational, a theme in all of her paintings.
CAAM’s February 18 tribute to Saar’s experimental exhibit featured words from the artist herself along with a spoken word performance from student activist Kamil Oshundara and dance by artist Maurice Harris. Together, the three artists articulated a clear message, appreciating the existence of ostracized groups and complimenting the complexities of Saar’s works by acting as social statements in their recognition of misunderstood communities and identities.
Maurice Harris performs at Lezley Saar’s exhibition closing event / photo by HRDWRKR, courtesy of the California African American Museum
“We wear our truth as a crown,” called Oshundara, whose own struggles as a queer, black woman manifested clearly through her bold and purposeful verses. Simply and artfully, she cries, “I will not make my identity simple because you think it’s unclear.” Her plea of urgency rings across generations to a time when free artistic expression of sexuality was not so well-received. LGBT performances were often criticized for their open illustration of gay theatrics and charged with demonstrating an unrealistic betrayal of homosexuality. However, it is this type of expression that truly allowed queer playwrights and performers to channel themselves into their art in a way that was never quite seen before. A full and complete expression of identity — be that racial, sexual, or otherwise — is necessary for artwork to yield a truly holistic and effective cultural meaning.
This unapologetic display of self was extremely apparent in Harris’s performance and it was hard to look away as he entered the floor in a pink, floor length, satin gown. His dress paired almost perfectly with the drapery and oversized bouquet of roses behind him that he had installed himself, as a part of his magnificent floral boutique Bloom & Plume, to complement the entire night. Infusing modern dance techniques, Harris’ movements are fluid, similar to the nature of his identity. Twirling a wig of long braids, which he employed as a prop of femininity, Harris, like Saar, used a variety of props and ephemera to play more intimately with gender.
The unification of art and artist was an almost tangible force that night. Even at a time when racial and homosexual identity is more visible, their call for acceptance in those who do not and cannot understand their struggle was as urgent as ever. Each performance uncovered a layer of each artist’s identity. Harris is not just black and he is not only a dancer, nor a florist nor gay. Just like Oshundara is not just black nor simply a woman or queer, and Saar is not just an artist or a mother nor black nor white. They are all of these things at once.
Kamil Oshundara / photo by HRDWRKR, courtesy of the California African American Museum
The same rings true in Saar’s Salon des Refuses. Her series “Monad,” which literally means a single unit or a single celled organism, seeks merely to illustrate the common paradigm that we are all connected through several smaller, more detailed mixed-media paintings.Saar’s imaginistic commentary on prescribed identities and unifying artwork comes at a time when homophobia and racism once again appears to have found its way into the inner workings of our political system. It is imperative that marginalized bodies, artistic or otherwise, continue to communicate an uncompromised version of themselves. While it is true that our generation benefits from an immensely elevated level of media exposure, this mediation is often at the expense of the discriminated communities’ individuality. A sad majority of modern publicity seeks merely to assure the public of these communities’ sameness, rather than celebrate the many unified layers of identity that make them different.
The art of Saar, Oshundara, and Harris has, at the core, a strong commonality: celebrating a relentless vision of self. Saar’s “Gender Renaissance,” depicts the fluidity within many figures whose given gender did not resonate with their true identity. Under the context of hardships faced by her own transgender son, Saar sought to “focus on the beauty of the trans experience.” Her juxtaposition of images that symbolize culturally normative gender ideals with the profiles of gender nonconforming faces questions the legitimacy of arbitrary concepts of race, beauty, and gender. Like her own son, along with Harris, and Oshundara, the characters of Saar’s paintings cannot easily be labelled.
“I cannot divide myself into pieces,” said Oshundara in her closing remarks. And by the end, we believe her. We watch her weave the strands of her identity right before our eyes. Once together, each part becomes inseparable from another.
For more information or Lezley Saar and her recent solo exhibition Salon de Refusés, check out our editor Leah Rosenzweig’s take on LA Weekly.