Tuesday, 11 November 2014
Thursday, 2 October 2014
Exhibit B and the Art of Conversation about Racism
I have read thoughtful pieces about Exhibit
B in the last few weeks and thought long and hard about whether to add my own
voice to the conversation. Most of the pieces have understandably focused on
arguing that the work should/should not have been shown. I want to try and
offer some thoughts about the debate itself.
Many have argued that closing Exhibit B was
an act of censorship in that it limited freedom of expression. Rather than
criticising the Barbican for closing it down, a number of writers have blamed
the campaigners who were present at the opening night (and some have blamed
everyone who signed the petition also). This seems, on first sight, a
problematic position - invoking freedom of expression for the artist but not
extending this right to those, who for whatever reason, might wish to protest.
If one holds that lawful protest equates to censorship, the implications for
democracy are very serious indeed. If one holds that freedom of expression is a
right, then that right must be extended to those who engage in lawful protest.
(Incidentally, few commentators have made reference to the importance of
Black-led protest in improving the living conditions of Black people in the UK
and globally and how this has included artistic representation in shows such as
"The Black and White Minstrels" - perhaps television is not
considered art?)
It is perhaps with this in mind that the
Barbican statement implied that the protest was not peaceful even though there
had been no arrests made by the police on the opening night. Whilst the police
have not said that the protest was unlawful in any way, the Barbican statement
has been interpreted by some commentators as claiming that it was violent -
this seems to me a reasonable reading of the statement, unless the claim that
the protest was not 'peaceful' was really intended to mean it was not
'quiet'. I think that sound and voice
are motifs in the debate.
The 'mob' that were 'whipped up into a
frenzy' as one writer puts it, were chanting and drumming. (We might consider
whether the difference between a 'mob' and say 'a group of autonomous
individuals engaged in collective action' is merely rhetorical.) Inside, the Black performers had been told by
their White director to remain silent and to hold eye contact with their
audience. Some writers have contrasted their 'dignified' position with those of
the protestors. It is not difficult to see echoes of discourses of how Black
people should respond to the subject of racism - dignified silence versus loud
anger. Bailey's choice of language, in describing the protest as "a
violent riot" appears to be in tension with his declared wish to examine
"systems of racism and how they dehumanise all who are touched by
them" when we consider how such systems have often used narratives of
Black people as inherently violent. If we think back to 2011, we are likely to
agree that actual rioters get pretty strong legal treatment in this country.
Of course there are many possible responses to racism, but it is not
clear that Exhibit B explores them. And with its all-Black cast, isn't Exhibit
B actually about Black people rather than colonialism and racism? Can one tell
a story about European colonialism whilst removing the colonialists from the
story? Can one tell a story of "the white gaze" without including
white people?
Perhaps the white gaze is to be added the
moment the audience enters. Perhaps as some commentators have suggested, the
piece is for those people who, like the director himself, can gaze on Black
bodies and meditate on how they have benefited from their subjugation. This
reading of the piece would allow for an argument that our own racialised
identity informs (to some extent) how we come to look at racism. I've watched
interviews and trailers, but I am still confused as to what the director would
make of this claim. I can see that some commentators think it racist to suggest
this. For them, questions of who is best positioned to discuss x, amount to
another form of censorship. However one can reject an extreme position such as
listing what an artist can and can't talk about and still think it important to
discuss who gets to speak about what in art.
For instance, I genuinely wonder whether
the campaign calling for closing Exhibit B would have been as well supported if
it had been possible to point to a number of other recent pieces at the Barbican
(and beyond) that had tackled the white gaze. If it was clear that Black
artists were supported with public funds in making art that spoke of the
brutality of European colonialism, might not people have engaged in strong
critiques of Exhibit B but been aware that Brett Bailey's voice was only one in
the conversation, rather than the (seemingly) lone voice? I think this
complicates the censorship argument which seems to rely on a meritocratic
notion that the art that gets funded and seen is the best art. Of course art
should (be allowed to) be provocative and to divide opinion. However saying
that anything that is legal is art if claimed as such, appears to hand over aesthetic
and ethical questions to the law-makers. As an extreme example, it means that
the actual enslavement and trading of Black people could be art if it was
claimed as such in the UK before 1807.
There is clearly diversity of opinion
amongst Black artists in particular around the issues this episode has
highlighted. Artists for whom I have the greatest of respect have found
themselves on opposite sides of a for/against debate. I do not wish to deny the
agency of the Black actors who participated in Exhibit B, all of whom made
informed decisions and some of whom have spoken about their reasons for
participating. I think it is perhaps slightly troubling that the director has
not always used people who consider themselves actors as the work has toured.
He appears to be content to find Black people who will consent to participating
in the work and are able to stand still and give eye contact. Does using Black
people interchangeably in the piece critique the historical denial of full
personhood to Black people, or mirror it to some extent? Perhaps the final
section of the piece, in which actors write about their reasons for getting
involved mitigates against accusations that the actors are not permitted their
own voices in the piece. And do those who argue that participants are not
"really Black" (I have seen such comments online) not themselves
essentialise Black people?
The extent to which the participants can be
said to have been 'acting' appears to be a fault line in the debate. Is it reasonable
to compare Exhibit B, an art installation, to a film such as "12 Years a
Slave" as many have done? Is there a crucial difference in how the
audience are positioned? When I watch a film I am a viewer. In an art
installation do I become a participant? If my response is part of "the
piece" how am I to respond? Perhaps the only appropriate response to
seeing Black people shackled is to rush to liberate them? On first hearing
about Exhibit B, I had speculated with friends as to what would happen if
people entered and did just this. But what if the protestors outside had
declared their drumming and chanting as art (which to my knowledge they did
not)? We might have had an interesting juxtaposition of public art and publicly
funded art.
I think that one artistic response to this
episode would be a piece of verbatim theatre on this episode, perhaps
accompanied by talks and discussions. Certainly the debates around Exhibit B
have reached far more people than the piece itself would have on its planned
short run in London. Perhaps we have Brett Bailey to thank for this. Perhaps we
have the protestors.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)