Basquiat: The Manifestation of Racism in Art
Art has but two functions. The first is to be indicative of the society in which it is created: portraits of monarchs demonstrate the power and influence of royalty in any given culture: propaganda posters to sway public opinion mirror the intentions of a nation at war: as far back as the genesis of mankind, cave paintings of animals on the plains offer insight into their crucial role in early human survival. Whatever the purpose, there is always part of the society in which a piece of art is created in the piece of art itself. But that perspective is always an indication of an artist’s experience in that society, and that is the second function of art; to chronicle the experience of the individual – the artist. On occasion, these two functions of art manifest themselves fully in the style of a single artist, and the results ultimately enrapture the art world. In the case of Jean-Michel Basquiat, his sudden burst onto the New York art scene was a product not only of his Haitian ethnicity, but also the public’s opinion at the time on those who shared his ethnicity.
According to a friend, painter Arden Scott, "Basquiat was intent upon being a mainstream artist. He didn't want to be a black artist. He wanted to be a famous artist" (Hoban, “Basquiat: A Quick Killing in Art” 13). The most influential factor in the themes of his paintings is this racial divide, which perpetuated itself both subtly and obviously in Basquiat's life from childhood to adulthood. Even at the genesis of his artistic career, which took the form of graffiti tags under the pseudonym SAMO – “same old shit” – his tags were aimed to draw attention to this divide. Basquiat’s perspective on the society in which he lived would manifest itself in other ways in his personal life in future, and so by extension result in the works he is famous for.
To begin with, Basquiat was raised in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, an area in which race relations have historically been strained. “Only a few years earlier [than his youth,] other black students who bused from Park Slope to Bensonhurst needed police escort because of threats against them” (Fretz, 8). At his school, he was a minority, and faced resentment for it, sometimes blatant racism. But ultimately this isolated upbringing would lead to a deeper level of expression in his later artistic career. Fretz concludes that “being ostracized for being black made him more interested in exploring his own racial identity” (8). But it didn’t stop him from pointing the lens towards others, and Irony of the Negro Policeman (Reference 1) is a perfect example. Depicted in this piece is a is looming figure in shades of blue, red, and yellow, but mostly black as an indication of the figure’s race. Its mass takes up a significant portion of the canvas, as a suggestion of it’s “excessive and totalizing power” (Braziel, 198). But what Basquiat wishes for the viewer to consider is that this power comes from authority, and with authority comes hierarchy, which is inherently an imbalance of power. Basquiat takes offense to the policeman voluntarily subjugating himself by making himself a part of that hierarchy, and so depicts him as broken, literally and figuratively. Indeed, Braziel points out that “it is devastatingly ironic when [the policeman’s] complicity and corruption exact their violences against his own ostensible community” (198). He is supposedly “content to be only what the oppressors want,” and as a result “this black image can never be fully self-actualized. It must always be represented as fragmented” (Pinder, 343).
This work may be a product of Basquiat’s previous role as graffiti artist “SAMO”, during which time he may have seen himself as an artistic vigilante avoiding cops who were, at least in his mind, doing the bidding of a higher and whiter power. Yet despite his origins as a graffiti artist, “Basquiat would be the only black artist to survive the graffiti label, and find a permanent place as a black painter in a white art world.” (Hoban, “A Quick Killing in Art” 6) What may have drawn him to graffiti in the first place was the selective anonymity found in a tag, as “the graffiti phenomenon ignored distinctions of race and class” (Emmerling, 9). But as he grew out of his artistic origins, he found that his race could be reconciled with the society he was apart of. The only thing that mattered was that he remain remain comfortable with his ethnicity and true to his art by extension. This is most accurately embodied in the Acque Pericolose, or Poison Oasis, as we shall see.
It is difficult to get an accurate sense of the society within which Basquiat’s paintings were created, but what’s much easier to understand is the art world he was trying to break into. Most aptly summarized by a quote of Patti Astor’s, “the art world was white walls, white people and white wine,” and Basquiat stood out not only as a black man in the white-washed world of art, but also as an artist who brought attention to its ethnic imbalance. Completed in 1981, Poison Oasis (Reference 2) is Basquiat's first undertaking of this complex narrative subject matter; shown is a black male figure, arms crossed, halo above, in a fiery scene of color. He is accompanied by a poised snake and a skeletal cow, with flies overhead, representative of imminent death. In what could be called his first major self-portrait, Basquiat has alluded to his own personal situation as a minority in an ethnically-polarized world, and the solace he has found in his own race, signified by the halo resting abrasively atop his head. The implication is that despite Basquiat’s delicate situation in the art world – which he has represented as a fiery wasteland – he is self-assured nonetheless. Fred Hoffman, an art dealer who worked with Basquiat on the production of 5 prints in 1983, has described this caricature as “vulnerable, yet possessed of pride and authority” as per the arm’s positioning across the figures chest to symbolize his self-surrender. He is evidently in a state of peace despite the dire setting surrounding him.
Symbolic as the portrait was, Basquiat’s situation in the real world was to remain dire despite future fame; in February 1985, The New York Times Magazine published an article entitled “New Art, New Money: The Marketing of an American Artist” in order to chronicle his steady rise as an artist. Although initially euphoric, Basquiat gradually came to resent the title; “‘As though I didn’t do it myself,’ he compained. It was just one more sign that Basquiat was a rare black in a monochrome art world” (Haden-Guest). Basquiat had been aware of the division that existed in the art world before this article assured him of the fact. Hoffman “became acutely aware of the extent of Basquiat’s concern for incorporating the dichotomy between black and white into both the content and the strategies of his artistic production.” But Basquiats concern towards this dichotomy didn’t stop at the artistic world; it extended into the realms of society at large, illustrating other ethnic and class divides, as is evident with his Tobacco Versus Red Indian Chief of 1981.
This particular example demonstrates the subjugation of the Native American peoples as a result of American immigrant expansion, and recognizes the social disparity between Native Americans and Europeans as a result. Initially welcoming of the newcomers, “the Native American’s introduced tobacco (smoked in pipes) to Europeans, and European stores adopted this convention soon afterwards” (Fretz, 85). What we see in Tobacco Versus Red Indian Chief (Reference 3) is the consequences of that introduction as a symbol of oppression. The chief stands holding a handful of cigars in the traditional pose of a “cigar store Indian,” or wooden statues placed outside tobacco stores to recognize the source of tobacco’s introduction. Basquiat has chosen to show the face of the chief as black, which Fretz stipulates as an allusion to the fact that “since the early Europeans had never seen a Native American, many of the first “wooden Indians” were made with the facial features of black slaves” (85). The reference is taken one step further as a connection to Basquiat’s own ethnicity, and could also be “reminding viewers that growing tobacco in American Southern plantations both helped displace the indigenous people and enslave the black African” (Fretz, 85).
The figure is surrounded by barbed wire, which is interpreted by Coomer as the result of an exchange: the cigars the chief holds for the land he is on. Within the confines of this barbed wire fence are pair of tepees, which Richard Marshall, in his catalogue of the artist, referred to as “Basquiat’s symbol for ‘subjugated people’” (Fretz, 85). Rife with allusions to early social construct, Basquiat successfully emphasizes the connection between the racial segregation at the beginning of American society with the ethnic slights of his day, which Basquiat experienced socially even after achieving fame. Fred Brathwaite, an acquaintance and fellow African-American artist, said that “being black, he was always an outsider. Even after he was flying on the Concorde, he wouldn’t be able to get a cab” (Hoban, “Samo is Dead” 43). But Basquiat’s utilization of race was not always for the purpose of deposing ethnic divisions; he went beyond that, acknowledging “other suggestive dichotomies, including wealth versus poverty, integration versus segregation, and inner versus outer experience” (Hoffman). All 3 of these contrasting notions are brilliantly encompassed in 1987’s Pegasus.
Harkening back to his days as a graffiti artist, Basquiat’s trademark was the inclusion of words and symbols into his pieces. Pegasus, which he would complete later in 1987, is contrived solely of such words and symbols. Best put by Franklin Sirmans, currently department head and curator of contemporary art at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), Basquiat’s genius was in “the marriage of text, and image, abstraction and figuration, and historical information mixed with contemporary commentary” (Mayer, 95), and Pegasus (Reference 4) puts that genius on prominent display. Taking inspiration from Henry Dreyfuss’s Symbol Sourcebook, Basquiat scrawled “hundreds of small black images and words: technical symbols, parts of a biography of Picasso, drawings of coins, and phrases befitting his mood, like ‘broken wing’ and ‘heart as arena.’” (Fretz, 156) As expansive as the painting is, Basquiats focus was purely introspective. Particularly interesting is his use of “hobo signs,” taken from vagrants during the Depression, who would use these symbols to mark houses who had been generous in the past, or warn fellow delinquents that a neighbourhood wasn’t friendly to them. “Basquiat repeated the interlocking hobo symbol for ‘cowards will give to get rid of you’ and the circle, with its meaning ‘nothing to be gained here,’ throughout the work” (Fretz, 156). These depressing symbols would be repeated in his later works, but in this context the meaning refers to the treatment of Basquiat’s works and existence as an artist, with particular emphasis on the aforementioned dichotomies: wealth versus poverty, integration versus segregation, and inner versus outer experience.
The irony of fame is that even though one is monetarily wealthy, the life of a star can be strangely devoid of personal satisfaction. The result, which we see even today, is a turn towards artificial sources of satisfaction, drugs. Ultimately these would lead to Basquiat’s death in 1988, but the root of the problem was that, according to high-school friend Zoe Leonard, “most people didn’t realize how bad his drug problem was because he had money and social status” (Hoban, “Samo is Dead” 42). Being a star in the world means you are valued for your works, and the manifestation of this value is money in the pocket of the artist. But the contrast in the value he felt for his works and for himself was stark, and even though he was wealthy for his work, he felt less rewarded interpersonally. The first contrast is thus aimed at the more emotional, spiritual side of wealth; to be rich in life, not just in funds. The next personal relation of dichotomies to Basquiat’s life, “integration versus segregation,” circulates around the art world’s acceptance of him and his simultaneous exclusion from it. They embraced his creative style and taste and made him the enfant terrible of the art world in less than a decade, and yet he was never able to transcend the color of his skin, something the art world concurrently, though perhaps unintentionally, ensured. This contradiction plays perhaps the largest role in Basquiat’s personal life, and then by extension his art. But it was exactly this connection between his art and his personal life as a consequence of that conflict which bred the creativity necessary to create art as multidimensional as his. For “despite an addiction to masking/masquerading in his personal life, Basquiat used painting to disintegrate the public image of himself that he created and helped sustain” (Pinder, pg. 348). It is in this way that he perpetrates the third dichotomy, “inner versus outer experience.” For the experience he shared with the world was never fully revealing of the inner struggle he faced everyday: to be rich in wealth and yet broke in happiness, to be a part of a world movement yet simultaneously separated from it. Through these 3 demonstrations, he ingeniously compares the hardships of wanderers in the depression, isolated from society through class, with the isolation he feels due to his ethnicity. All through the use of symbols. These 3 beliefs proved to be defining and constant factors in his career, and it allowed him to create the art he is famous for. But fame did not necessarily result in happiness for Basquiat.
The root of personal dissatisfaction often being attributed to peer comparison, in the world of art it would’ve been entirely impossible for Basquiat to avoid. But it was agony for him nonetheless; what is unfortunate is that the gap growing between his reputation and other artists may not have been a product of his talent so much as the color of his skin; “‘They still call me a graffiti artist,’ he’d complain. ‘They don’t call Keith [Haring] or Kenny [Scharf],’” both prominent white artists, “‘graffiti artists anymore.’ Fred Brathwaite agrees: ‘Graffiti had become another word for n***er’” (Haden-Guest). But for a man as ambitious as he was, Basquiat believed he was “failing to consolidate on his first success” (Haden-Guest). Come 1988 it would be a year and a half since he’d been exhibited in a museum or gallery, the last of which was a collaboration with Andy Warhol, the results had received lukewarm reviews and a single sale (Haden-Guest). Unfortunately, as adept an artist as he was, former agent Mary Boone admits that “he was too concerned with what the public, collectors, and critics thought… He was too externalized; he didn’t have a strong enough internal life” (Hoban, 43). And once you have convinced yourself that your worth is less than that of others, it is an underestimated feat to reclaim it.
The enduring message of Basquiat’s work points to a society where racism and segregation are just as rampant as centuries past. The only difference is the method by which that racism and segregation is enforced. Basquiat’s opinion of this society was mirrored in the themes of his works and were the result of his treatment as a successful black man in the predominantly white art world. It was his depiction of this society that spurred him to fame, but once he was there it was the way he dealt with that recurring treatment – through his art – that kept him in the spotlight. His perception of the way the world responded to the color of his skin can be felt most acutely when he asserted that “I am not a black artist, I am an artist.” But the fact that he was fundamentally a black artist, and they way he perceived and depicted the world as a result, was ultimately what made him a true artist.
Works Cited:
Braziel, Jana Evans. "Trans-American Art on the Streets: Jean-Michel Basquiat's Black Canvas Bodies and Urban Vodou-Art in Manhattan." Artists, Performers, and Black Masculinity in the Haitian Diaspora. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 2008. 198. Print.
Coomer, Martin. "UBS Openings: Paintings from the 1980's." Tate. Web. 18 Mar. 2015. <http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibition/ubs-openings-paintings-1980s/ubs-openings-paintings-1980s-explore>.
Emmerling, Leonhard. "'Pay For Soup. Build A For. Set That On Fire.' Basquiat And The 1980's Art Scene." Jean-Michel Basquiat: 1960-1988. Köln: Taschen, 2006. 9. Print.
Fretz, Eric. Jean-Michel Basquiat: A Biography. Santa Barbara: Greenwood, 2010. Print.
Haden-Guest, Anthony. "Burning Out." Vanity Fair News. Vanity Fair, 1 Nov. 1988. Web. 17 Mar. 2015. <http://www.vanityfair.com/news/1988/11/jean-michel-basquiat>.
Hoban, Phoebe. "Samo Is Dead: The Fall of Jean Michel Basquiat." New York Magazine 26 Sept. 1988. 36-44. Print.
Hoban, Phoebe. "The Not-So-Brave New Art World." Basquiat: A Quick Killing in Art. New York: Viking, 1998. 6-16. Print.
Hoffman, Fred. "The Defining Years: Notes on Five Key Works." Basquiat.com. Web. 19 Mar. 2015. <http://basquiat.com/artist-timeline.htm>.
Mayer, Marc. "In the Cipher: Basquiat and Hip-Hop Culture." Basquiat. Brooklyn, N.Y.: Brooklyn Museum, 2005. 91-105. Print.
Pinder, Kymberly N. "Altars of Sacrifice: Remembering Basquiat." Race-ing Art History: Critical Readings in Race and Art History. New York, US: Routledge, 2002. 341-350. Print.