Panel Discussion: Meditations on Cultural Aesthetics
Sunday, March 28 from 3pm to 4pm
Panel discussion with Miami-based artists and scholars held in conjunction with the Kerry James Marshall exhibition. Free admission
Miami Art Museum
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[edited: 22hr09 east coast US]
The panel started a bit late but, two of the artists took more than their allotted five minutes to show some slides of their work and speak on how their work intersected with “cultural aesthetics” as they understood Kerry James Marshall’s work. The one female on the panel had never spoken in front of an audience and was clearly nervous. We presented with myself going last, alphabetically, which was perfect for my strategy. I had to use something developed sometime in 1993-4.
I said only that my family moved to Florida in 1908 and asked the audience to go back in time on a journey of my creation. On came the soundtrack of water fowl and running water. I then advanced my 31 slides slowly, slowly along with the audio. I eased into my monologue:
“WATER IS BOTH THE BARRIER AND THE PASSAGEWAY”
“It’s a hot, muggy, breezeless day, and I find myself mentally dozing off into a half-dream. The quiet ‘n tricklin’ water sure feels good to me, mesmerizes, massages, my stressed-out mental and physcial self.
But, every time I come out here to visit these marshy barrier islands, I find myself looking back, to sides, always hearing footsteps in the brush. Even the occassional mud impression I see looks more human than animal. I really want to follow the impressions down into the muddy bank to take a closer look, but I know mud is too soft to make that possible.
I remember listenin’ to somebody, was it my grandmother, talkin’ ’bout spirits that live in the swampy marshes? Nah, that’s only in South Carolina.
Well…, maybe they could live here, too.
Looking into the water-filled, mid-island areas, I wonder if anybody could actually live under these conditions. Of course, they did though.
There’s just barely enough relief under the shade of the mangroves to tolerate it, if the mosquitoes leave you alone long enough.
Both, my Cherokee and West African forebears have myths about such beings, half human, half not. I don’t want to frighten the wild birds, sea otters, and crabs scurrying underfoot, but I really want to call out LOUD to see if there’ll be an answer.
Out here, seems to be a world infested with creatures hard to see clearly, but sensed and smelt, as sure as the putrid, stagnant water that breeds these mosquitoes buzzing around my ears, ankles, and backside.
There… catch that little wiff of it? Putrid. Raw and Moist.
They say that’s the smell of water spirits, not like some perfume that pretends to call out the passion in our souls.
Water is both the barrier and the passageway to the unseen spirit world.”
Onajide Shabaka © 1993 All Rights Reserved
At its completion I said simply, “Thank you,” and sat down ready to participate in the group discussion. Yes, its poignancy was noted by several in attendance.
