Lately, I’ve been finding myself making a point to learn more about art history. Learning about the techniques, methods, and lives of artists of the past have been enlightening, and influential to my art practice. Recently, I went down a rabbit hole of the life and art of Neo-Expressionist artist Jean-Michel Basquiat .
Jean-Michel Basquiat circa 1982, Photo credit: Unknown
I was familiar with his art and his legacy, but my overall knowledge was limited. Along with several articles and interviews, I watched Downtown 81 , an independent film he starred in early in his career. I also watched Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child , a documentary done by a friend of his. Both were eye opening, particularly the documentary, because it featured a lot of people who knew him before he was famous, and were close friends with him. It gave insight to him as not just an artist, but as a person. I’m not going to recap his entire life story. But I’ll share what I can apply to my own practice, thanks to what I've learned about him. And I should preface this by saying that all of these opinions are just that…my opinions.
Basquiat’s art embodied the wild, eccentric vibe of NYC in the 1980s. Learning more about him also helped me understand his work and the messaging behind it…the frenetic brushstrokes, stylized figures and bright colors that wove a wild tapestry of Black history and street culture. Most of all, I found myself drawn to the charismatic man behind the art, and the stories he was trying to tell.
As a creative, it’s an incredibly brave act to share part of yourself to the world. It's like writing all of your most private thoughts on poster board and taping them all over the walls. It can be exhilarating, but it is also terrifying. Because opening yourself up like that makes you a target to be torn apart. So you start creating what you think is expected of you, rather than what feels authentic, and it can be incredibly soul-crushing. Basquiat's work was revered during his time, but it was not without harsh criticism, even to this day. But he didn't change his style to conform. That was my first takeaway...stay true to your creative language. The right ones will understand what you're saying.
Learning more about him also made me think about the price of being famous, and should that be the goal of an artist at all. Fame is a beautiful monster, and in today's world, that means likes, followers, and "going viral." But is all of the negativity, scrutiny and stepping outside of yourself to be "what's trending" worth the cost of your mental and emotional health? Not to me. Basquiat's story sadly is not an anomaly…a brilliant creative figure who was suddenly lifted up to the stratosphere, only to be dropped like a meteor by the same industry that took him there, and it took a toll on him. And as awful as that is, I think that the lesson to take from that is that fame is fleeting, and if it happens to find you, it's best to keep it at arms length.
Finally, as a Black woman artist, should minority artists bother seeking validation in spaces that don't welcome them anyway? Basquiat was one of very few Black artists recognized by the elite art world at that time. And that world was cold, ultra wealthy, and white...and still is. And the crazy thing is that he had already been building a name for himself on his own…he didn’t need them. As his fame grew, he dealt with a lot of backhanded comments about his art and straight up racism. Critics deemed him brilliant but difficult. After seeing several interviews however, I realized that that was coded language for his unwillingness to “shuck and jive" and his frustration with not being heard. In the documentary, one interviewer commented on his time at his first studio underneath the Annina Nosei Gallery at the beginning of his career, describing his time there as being “locked in the basement.” He quipped, “That has a mean edge to it. If I was a white artist, you would have called me an artist-in-residence.” For that reason, I truly think it's important to show up in spaces that are ours and create our own lanes, instead of seeking validation from that world. Your work is just as important hanging on the wall of a studio apartment in the Bronx, as it would be handing in a loft in Soho.
Overall, reading about him as a more mature artist, it makes me wonder where he would be today. He may not have been as “famous,” but I do believe he would still be here, happy and healthy at 64, recounting his life and career, hopefully living comfortably, and continuing to share his art with the world. I truly believe he would still have the longevity and impact if he were still here physically. And in a time where “invisible” sculptures, paintings created by AI robots, and bananas taped to a wall are selling for millions of dollars, I'll take an authentic soul over that any day.
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