Shakia Gullette, Curator of Exhibitions at the Banneker-Douglass Museum, is one of my 2015 mentees. We've had wide-ranging conversations, from career plans to meaningful exhibits to issues of inclusion within the museum field itself. In this guest post she expands some of our conversations to share her reflections and analysis of Paul Rucker's exhibition, Rewind, at the Baltimore Museum of Art. Please be aware that there are challenging and disturbing images included in this post.
“Baltimore is America amplified—the good and the bad. It’s where the
North meets the South, and has so much historical information. I couldn’t think
of a better place to do this project”
Paul Rucker
In September, Linda shared her experience at the New Founde
Lande pageant and she briefly mentioned Rebecca Herz’s blog post titled, Should Exhibits Tell Stories? Herz
addresses three issues/advantages that may arise during storytelling, which
include storytelling as kitsch, stories evoking emotion, and the
anti-storytelling moment. Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting Paul
Rucker’s highly anticipated exhibition Rewindat the Baltimore Museum of Art and immediately, I thought about Herz’s
post. I knew this exhibit was designed to stir emotions and I wanted to truly
examine how being led by emotions affected my experience.
As I was entering the exhibit, I wondered, how emotional is
too emotional when you are already invested in the subject matter? How can you
get past what you already think you know to learn something new? Rewind allowed me to explore both
questions while confronting challenges we face each day as Americans.
As I approached the entry of the Rewind exhibition, I was greeted by two people who appeared to be
quite rattled. I asked them what they thought of the exhibit, the gentleman
responded, “I didn’t like it and you should turn back around.” Initially, his
response puzzled me, but then I knew this exhibition would challenge me to
think differently. Yet, I wondered how this couple felt. Had their brief
encounter with this exhibition scarred them? Where they so shocked by the
content that they hadn’t learned anything? Even after I ran through these
questions in my mind, I continued to pursue the exhibit.
Rewind focuses on race in
America and how history repeats itself in different ways. Rucker uses a
transmedia narrative, which created an immersive experience for the exhibition
guest. He explains in his meticulously researched
exhibition guide that his life’s work is meant to shock the attendee into
thinking. Rucker began researching his exhibit content in 1992 after the LA
Riots which were incited by police violence. He followed many of the outcomes
and began to draw parallels with lynching. In the section titled Stories
from the Trees we were able to see images from lynching’s magnified
from their original postcard format and transferred onto throw blankets. To honor the legacy of the story behind
each slain individual, Rucker carefully placed the remaining throw blankets atop
a safe which housed the artist’s Glock 22 semi-automatic gun which he used in
another section of the exhibition. Stories
from the Trees left me thinking about Baltimore native Billy Holiday’s song
Strange Fruit and how
76 years after the songs release, the lyrics are still relevant.
At this point in my visit it became apparent to me; there
can be a balance of emotional investment and learning in exhibition storytelling. Sometimes, museum professionals take for granted the power we harness
when we are able to bring a different layer to a past event in our history.
Rucker was able to remove the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) from the confines of a text
book and bring them to life with a very modern twist. Initially, the sight of
21 life sized mannequins dressed in KKK robes made my heart race. Rucker refers
to this section as Birth of the Nation.
Here, the artists recalls his experience as an onlooker at a Klan rally but
through his creative lens, recast the KKK robes using camouflage, satin, and
Kente. After exploring each
garment, I felt less threatened. I confronted my own definition of fear and
white supremacy, and thought about how seeing these images in books as a child
affected me. I then witnessed a father explaining to his three daughters that
the KKK are “very bad people” and they are like terrorists. After overhearing
his explanation, I tuned in as I had great expectation for the rest of their
conversation. As the father began walking his girls through the exhibit, the
mother came rushing in and demanded the children be taken out of the exhibit. Although
the lesson had been cut short, I applauded the father for initiating the
conversation and potentially changing the way the next generation will approach
race relations.
The initial shock of the exhibition forced me outside of my
own thoughts. In my mind, I thought I had a good handle on my knowledge base
but I found myself deeply engaged in the exhibition guide—much like the artist
intended. As I was engaged in the exhibition, I felt my perspective being
challenged. I was no longer led by emotion because the artist armed me with a
great deal of facts about lynching, unnecessary violence statistics, and how
the number of prisons
has increased since the 1940s. I
looked around to see if others were having the same revelation that I was
experiencing. Sadly, I witnessed numerous people walk past the exhibition as if
the art were non-existent. I considered that the content may have been too
heavy and then it hit me. Rucker’s point was proven—we do not directly address
the issues that plague the United States and this intentional silence means we
constantly make the same mistakes again and again—hints the title Rewind.
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