Chair of the Ministers of Defense, 2016; installation view, Hammer Projects: Kevin Beasley, 2017. Courtesy of the Hammer Museum, Los Angeles. Photo: Brian Forrest.

A large black curtain impedes the entrance of Kevin Beasley’s installation at the Hammer Museum. Surveying the theatrics of the curtain’s placement, I was caught between fear and anticipation for what lay behind it. Inside, an empty wicker peacock chair is surrounded by dozens of hovering, colorful cast-resin ghosts. With a spotlight on the chair and an orange-hued window shrouded in cast-iron bars, the scene is imposing. The installation, Chair of the Ministers of Defense (2016), is a staging of one of the Black Panther Party’s most iconic photographs taken in 1967. While the photo is not on view in the gallery, viewers who remember it will likely imagine Huey P. Newton sitting in this chair wearing the infamous tilted black beret and leather jacket and holding a spear and a shotgun in each hand. The installation’s wall text reveals another reference to a monument of divine authority, the Vatican’s gilded Throne of St. Peter (c. 1647–1653) by Bernini. The Panthers’ photo and the Throne of St. Peter are two distinct frames of reference for engaging with Beasley’s work, both evoking strong connotations of power. It was the Panthers’ connection that immediately registered for me.  

I thought of PBS’s Independent Lens documentary The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution, released in 2016, and I distinctly remember that it exposed how strongly my memories of the Party were tied to the way the media historically portrayed them as violent, rebel revolutionaries. Those same historical accounts largely ignored the societal ills of racial bias, restrictive housing covenants, and police brutality that precipitated the Panthers’ resistance. In the installation, Maasai and Zulu war shields rest on either side of the chair, triggering memories of the duality of the Panthers’ narrative while challenging the viewer’s perspective of the Party. Depending on a person’s vantage point, one might have felt intimidated and fearful, or enlightened, empowered, and protected.

In Beasley’s rendering, Newton’s presence at the center of the movement is a striking one—even in absentia. Here, we are left with the remains of a revolution. This is further punctuated by the faceless apparitions surrounding him, who act as metaphor for the unknown fighters for justice and equality, including the Black women who served as the backbone of the movement through their community work. While these faceless figures serve as stand-ins for the Panthers’ underpublicized community work, there’s also a looming specter of hidden forces that subverted the organization: COINTELPRO, blackmail, and internal strife. As I experienced this work while contemplating the enormity of these external dynamics, the power of the piece was amplified by the silence within the Hammer’s Vault Gallery.

Hammer Projects: Kevin Beasley is on view through April 23, 2017.

Colony Little is a Los Angeles–based writer and founder of Culture Shock Art. As a Bay Area native and long-term Southern California resident, Colony covers emerging contemporary art in California, the aesthetic of urban culture, and is a champion of African American art and media.

Simone Leigh. Althea, 2016; terra-cotta, india ink, porcelain, cobalt, epoxy. Courtesy of the Artist and Hammer Museum. Photo: Brian Forrest.

Simone Leigh uses sculpture to tell stories that transcend time and space. In her first solo West Coast exhibition at the Hammer Museum, Leigh draws on Africa’s colonial past while remaining rooted in the present, incorporating political resistance and performance to craft a decidedly modern aesthetic.

The exhibition features five onyx-colored sculptural busts adorned with raffia skirts, beads and headdresses made from small porcelain roses in shades of indigo, gray, white, and gilded 14-karat gold. Distinct facial expressions and gestures distinguish each bust from the others. None of the sculptures, however, have eyes. If eyes are the windows to the soul, their absence creates a façade; their obfuscation may be a protective emotional shield. One sculpture stands apart from the rest. A black hole in the center of the bust surrounded by black flowers in india ink replaces the details of her face. With her identity unknown, the piece becomes a mirror for the viewer to project their own narrative onto the work. When looking at her, I couldn’t help but think of Nina Simone’s powerfully emotive song “Four Women.” The song invites us into the lives of her subjects, engaging us in simple, vivid stories of pain, history, and perception. Viewing Simone Leigh’s work through this lyrical storytelling lens, I saw these sculptures as an abstract adaptation of the song. The artist extends the narrative by including the faceless woman whose story is unknown.

In Leigh’s exhibition, music strategically fills the void left from the absence of the spoken word. A work that sits across from the five busts in the gallery deploys music in this way. In a large-scale piece called Cupboard V, Leigh incorporates dance, improvisation, and music into her sculptural practice. A large, raffia-covered hut kisses the gallery’s ceiling, taking up three-quarters of the space in the small room. Its entrance is obscured from the front of the gallery. Music plays within the hut, beckoning the viewer toward the entrance at the back of the gallery. Inside, the video installation Aluminum plays. This piece features performance artist Rashida Bumbray dancing in a studio, her ankle shakers rhythmically accentuating her moves in harmony with the piano accompaniment.

A key to this exhibition lies in the many possible ways viewers can interpret how the two sets of works connect. The combined works in the exhibit represent a multigenerational and trans-Atlantic exploration into the origins of African and African American storytelling traditions that resonate throughout the diaspora.

Simone Leigh is curated by the ICA’s Jamilla James and is on view at the Hammer through January 8, 2017.

Colony Little is a Los Angeles–based writer and founder of Culture Shock Art. As a Bay Area native and long-term Southern California resident, Colony covers emerging contemporary art in California, the aesthetic of urban culture, and is a champion of African American art and media.

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