As South Carolina’s “Don’t Say Gay” policies threaten the humanity and well-being of the LGBTQAI+ community, using the practice of art curation as a form of storytelling and advocacy, a creative response amplifies the lived experiences of those under attack.
Students who take my art history classes are familiar with the motto: “museums are not neutral.” In fact, at Furman University, where I teach, they can enroll in a course that takes this phrase as its title and conceptual underpinning. Inspired by the global advocacy initiative, #MuseumsAreNotNeutral, co-founded by La Tanya S. Autry and Mike Murawski, my course explores modern Euro-American museums as colonial projects.[1] Students learn to recognize objects within museum spaces as ideologically charged by considering their participation in cultural narrative production. My class encourages discourse about the potential of museums and similar sites to inspire and perform advocacy through the curation of their collections.
Just as I work to foster a classroom environment in which my students feel empowered and equipped to explore how visual representations function as modes of storytelling, when I curate an exhibition in a museum or gallery, I aim to transform that space into a forum for the expression and amplification of the identities and lived experiences embodied in the objects on display. This task becomes even more necessary when dealing with marginalized identity groups. This goal could not have been more salient for the recent show I helped organize.
Found Family: Queerness and Community in the South, on view at Furman University’s Thompson Art Gallery from September-November, 2024, featured the work of 14 Queer artists living in the US South (title image, photo by author).[2] To find our participating artists for the exhibition, my fellow jurors and I drafted and disseminated a call for visual artists from across the Southeastern United States.[3] The outcome was encouraging. We received dozens of applications from artists willing to share their stories of living and working as Queer artists in the South.
Once we selected our artists, so began the analytical and interpretative task of connecting the imagery, messages, and identities represented in all 22 artworks. When producing an open call for submissions, rather than an exclusive invitation to participate, it can be challenging to find visual and conceptual cohesion among all the artworks. This is when curatorial intervention is crucial for establishing an overarching narrative.
For Found Family, this included writing interpretative labels for the artwork. In drafting the exhibition text, my undergraduate research fellow — Alex Aradas — and I saw it imperative to authentically and accurately represent our artists’ ideas and intentions. To do so, we asked them to provide a written statement in which they discussed the themes, concepts, and questions invoked in their artwork. We also conducted video and phone interviews with each artist to learn more about their creative practices and biographies.
In her 2007 article, “Oral History as a Social Justice Project,” Valerie J. Janesick posits that qualitative research practices like oral histories can “repair the historical record by including the voices of participants outside the mainstream of society.”[4] The interviews we conducted engage in a similar process by allowing our artists to directly share their lived experiences and artistic goals as members of the LGBTQAI+ community.
When organizing the gallery layout for Found Family, it was important to me that the display prompted visual dialogue between multiple artworks to showcase the diverse and nuanced experiences of being Queer in the South. As a result, many of the labels emphasized intersectionality, a concept that describes how the different social identities that a person holds impact how they navigate the world, exposing them to varying degrees of oppression and privilege.[i]
As we set out to interview our artists, we were transparent about our objectives and uses of these conversations. We distributed a consent form to disclose that the interviewers were intended to inform our labels. In the end, our process for writing the exhibition text was a collaborative endeavor between curators and artists, and one that provided gallery visitors with a thematic framework through which to understand the works on view.
When organizing the gallery layout for Found Family, it was important to me that the display prompted visual dialogue between multiple artworks to showcase the diverse and nuanced experiences of being Queer in the South. As a result, many of the labels emphasized intersectionality, a concept that describes how the different social identities that a person holds impact how they navigate the world, exposing them to varying degrees of oppression and privilege.[5]
The expression of intersectional identity is at the core of I Don’t See Color (Blue), a large blue mirror by Atlanta-based sculptor Rial Rye. The mirror is set within a blue-painted, organically shaped, wooden frame with a border constructed of fragments of a bead maze toy. It is also incised with abstracted motifs: curvilinear scribbles and cartoonish faces.
Rye identifies as Queer and multiracial — Black, Indigenous American, and of Ashkenazi Jewish descent — and describes his life as a case study in “misfitting.” His work addresses the feeling of existing as the “other” because his identity does not fit neatly within a binary classification system, which may label someone as either “Black” or “White.” Within the amorphous limits of not fitting in, there is a child-like desire to belong, which Rye symbolizes by incorporating children’s toys in his sculpture. His work’s title, I Don’t See Color (Blue), presents a visual paradox. The pseudo-equalizer phrase, “I don’t see color,” denies a person’s racial identity and ignores the social barriers they may face because of it.
Yet, when viewers encounter their image in the mirror, they see the color blue projected over their self-image. Rye’s sculpture celebrates a person’s unique combination of social identifiers while also encouraging them to consider the limitations of some identity labels. I Don’t See Color (Blue) prompts viewers to reflect on the perceptions and biases that we bring to our interactions with others.
Another artwork that explores converging social identities is Catherine Paul’s interactive assemblage, Ill, On Being. Paul refers to this work as an artist’s book that takes the form of an old library card catalogue filled with cards that are printed with quotations from literary works about experiences with illness. As a Queer, neurodivergent, and chronically ill artist, Paul finds community in the writings of other chronically ill individuals, such as those featured in her artwork.
The cards inside the drawer are organized according to symptoms or body parts affected by disease and disorder, including “blood,” “immunity,” “nerves,” and “pain.” Many of them are yellowed or show other evidence of wear and tear due to their age and handling. In this way, the drawer functions as a metaphor for the human body as the internal parts — the paper cards — possess a certain fragility and exhibit physical signs of aging.
In writing about her work, Paul describes how living with a chronic illness is itself a queered existence. Chronic illness is the result of the body malfunctioning again and again, making this ill person live outside of the boundaries of what is deemed normative bodily functions. Ill, On Being functions as a visible statement of the physical and mental vulnerabilities that our bodies face as we age. It reminds us that we are all susceptible to facing limitations in our bodies’ activities, thereby inspiring compassion for those with disabilities.
A second key concept that underlined the selection, interpretation, and contextualization of several artworks in the exhibition was decolonization, that is, the disruption of dominant ideas and narratives that privilege a White, patriarchal, and heteronormative perspective. This idea is exemplified by Brad Silk’s David, which reimagines Michelangelo’s famous colossal marble nude in the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence.
Silk replaced Michelangelo’s larger-than-life, muscular, male, and White form — qualities historically associated with the ideal body in Euro-American art — with a diminutive, stout, transgender body of Black and Filipino descent. The scars underneath the figure’s chest, in conjunction with their exposed genitalia, indicate that they underwent a gender-affirming double mastectomy. Through his statue, Silk challenges traditional beauty standards and advocates for more inclusive representations to correct canonical artistic narratives that have omitted LGBTQAI+ bodies and identities.
Hanging behind Silk’s David in the exhibition is Jules Jackson’s large, unstretched, painted canvas, Foreshortened Jules. This painting is part of a series of self-portraits which depict Jackson’s experience as a trans man in the South. In this painting, the artist is shown recovering from top surgery. Propped up on a hospital bed, a dizzy Jackson wakes up from anesthesia, surrounded by his caring parents — his mother on the right and his father on the left, personified as a whimsical flamingo (his father’s favorite bird).
He gives a reassuring thumbs up, signaling the approval of his new body. Like Silk’s David, Jackson’s self-portrait is a reinterpretation and reclamation of another Renaissance artwork: Andrea Mantegna’s Dead Christ. While Jackson’s painting maintains visual elements seen in Mantegna’s work, notably Christ’s long hair and beard, exposed chest, and reclining body, his side wound has been replaced by surgery scars and blood bags in the self-portrait.
Placed in dialogue with one another, Jackson’s and Silk’s respective works visualize the varied appearances and identities of transmasc bodies while celebrating the dignity of all transgender people by supporting gender-affirming healthcare.
In an exhibition like Found Family, which represents the stories of marginalized identity groups, the artworks on display may conjure up memories, emotions, and even trauma of living as Queer in the conservative US South. In my role as curator, I wanted gallery visitors to process these experiences and feelings by viewing the artwork and reading the labels, as well as by sharing their (anonymous) reflections in a journal. In one corner of the gallery, we created a humble reading nook.
Placed on the table were a notebook, pencils, and a small sign inviting visitors to share their thoughts about the exhibition. Accompanying this display were several copies of Jenna Casey’s Zine entitled Queer Talk for visitors to handle and read. Casey’s printed zine reproduces the transcript of a conversation between the artist and her Queer professor about their processes of coming out. We hoped that reading Casey’s zine would encourage visitors to meditate on their story and that of other LGTBQAI+ friends and family members.
“As a queer person, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so represented or seen. I love art with every part of my being, and it was lovely to see a part of me looking back when I explored the exhibit. Thank you so much to the people who made this possible, you have made the little queer child in me so happy.”
“I’m as straight as a board, as cis as a woman could ever be, but I was shocked to see some relations of the ‘queer experience’ in my own black experience. To be proud in your identity since birth, to create with what you have, that is a beauty we as people of all backgrounds and identities can enjoy.”
Found Family was on view during the 2024 fall semester at Furman University and overlapped with the latest US presidential election. Now more than ever, it is vital that we bring visibility to the stories and identities that are most vulnerable in our political landscape. With the adoption of anti-LGBTQAI+ legislation across the country, cultural and educational institutions, especially private institutions who are more protected than their public counterparts, must take a stand and combat these hateful laws and rhetoric by constructing spaces and opportunities to defend and celebrate our community’s diversity.[i]
Found Family: Queerness and Community in the South has served as my creative response to South Carolina’s “Don’t Say Gay” policies. When our state’s leadership continues to threaten the humanity and well-being of our LGBTQAI+ community, I have uncompromisingly amplified the lived experiences of those under attack, using the practice of art curation as a form of storytelling and advocacy.
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[1] Mike Murawski, “Museums Are Not Neutral,” Art Museum Teaching, published August 31, 2017, https://artmuseumteaching.com/2017/08/31/museums-are-not-neutral/. [2] Found Family was a collaborative project between Furman and the Queer Arts Initiative, which champions the Queer arts scene in the South Carolina Upstate. [3] In addition to myself, there were two other jurors who helped select the artwork for Found Family. They were Marty-Epp Carter, who chaired the jury as an independent artist and Rae Clark, who represented the Queer Arts Initiative on the jury. [4] Valerie J. Janescik, “Oral History as a Social Justice Project: Issues for the Qualitative Researcher,” The Qualitative Report 12, no. 1 (March 2007): 112. [5] For a foundational reading on intersectionality, see Kimberlé W. Crenshaw, On Intersectionality: Essential Writings (New York: The New Press, 2017). [6] Emma Chinn, “January 2024 Legislative Update: Anti-LGBTQ+ Bills Advancing Across the South,” Campaign for Southern Equality, published January 31, 2024, https://southernequality.org/legislative-update-jan-2024/#:~:text=As%20of%20January%202024%2C%20%E2%80%9CDon,West%20Virginia%2C%20and%20South%20Carolina.
Bibliography
Chinn, Emma. “January 2024 Legislative Update: Anti-LGBTQ+ Bills Advancing Across the South.” Campaign for Southern Equality. Published January 31, 2024. https://southernequality.org/legislative-update-jan-2024/#:~:text=As%20of%20January%202024%2C%20%E2%80%9CDon,West%20Virginia%2C%20and%20South%20Carolina.
Crenshaw, Kimberlé W. On Intersectionality: Essential Writings. New York: The New Press, 2017.
Janescik, Valerie J. “Oral History as a Social Justice Project: Issues for the Qualitative Researcher.” The Qualitative Report 12, no. 1 (March 2007): 111-121.
Murawski, Mike. “Museums Are Not Neutral.” Art Museum Teaching. Published August 31, 2017. https://artmuseumteaching.com/2017/08/31/museums-are-not-neutral/.
Title image: Found Family: Queerness and Community in the South, Thompson Gallery, Furman University. Author’s photograph.
