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| THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED, #2 Oil on Belgian Linen, 20 x 24 in. |
From the vantage point from which I looked out, there were many roads crisscrossing the proverbial Art World Landscape. Roads leading to places where success (as each individual artist might define it) could be found.
Viewed from the distance at which I stood, it was a twisted labyrinth, wonderfully and romantically complex and alluring. On the ground and up close, however, I knew it to be a tiring maze with faded and often misleading signposts, missing mileposts and a host of seemingly insurmountable obstacles; all of which would serve to complicate the travels of even the most capable and adventurous of artists.
Numerous still were the narrower paths meandering between those many roads in a twist of confusing branches. What occurred to me, when looking out on this seemingly surreal landscape, was that an artist need know beforehand where they were headed and which path/road would get them there. The one thing that had become clear over time was that artists who wanted critical success probably needed to be more than simply “adventurous” to venture out there. Words like “purposeful” and “determined” came to mind.
Viewed from the distance at which I stood, it was a twisted labyrinth, wonderfully and romantically complex and alluring. On the ground and up close, however, I knew it to be a tiring maze with faded and often misleading signposts, missing mileposts and a host of seemingly insurmountable obstacles; all of which would serve to complicate the travels of even the most capable and adventurous of artists.
Numerous still were the narrower paths meandering between those many roads in a twist of confusing branches. What occurred to me, when looking out on this seemingly surreal landscape, was that an artist need know beforehand where they were headed and which path/road would get them there. The one thing that had become clear over time was that artists who wanted critical success probably needed to be more than simply “adventurous” to venture out there. Words like “purposeful” and “determined” came to mind.
I too ventured out onto that terrain at times, and on this occasion I walked along a road that was well worn and familiar. At a crossroads I soon came upon a man walking briskly and carrying a portfolio. Unlike so many that I had met along those roads, he seemed to know exactly where he was going — looking neither left nor right at the crossroad — so I sought to engage him, asking a few questions that might help me and perhaps others whom I should meet in my travels.
He paused politely, and we exchanged greetings. He said his name was “Mason” and that he was an artist. How prophetic and appropriate a name for an artist, I thought as I glanced down the road from whence he had emerged. I saw no one else and only one set of footprints – his. No doubt time or those capricious winds, Fate and Opportunity, had obscured the tracks of any others who might also have traveled that road recently.
I turned then and looked ahead of him, and saw that the road narrowed. It was less traveled, and offered uncertain footing. Still, unlike the heavily trodden road on which I had been walking, there were fewer ruts in which to become entangled. Less dust to obscure the eye. As good a choice as any...perhaps better...but where did it lead? Where was he headed? He exuded an air of confidence and quiet determination. There was something different here. I decided, in that moment, to alter my plans and walk with him awhile. To that, Mason was agreeable, and so together we headed down that path less traveled.
I turned then and looked ahead of him, and saw that the road narrowed. It was less traveled, and offered uncertain footing. Still, unlike the heavily trodden road on which I had been walking, there were fewer ruts in which to become entangled. Less dust to obscure the eye. As good a choice as any...perhaps better...but where did it lead? Where was he headed? He exuded an air of confidence and quiet determination. There was something different here. I decided, in that moment, to alter my plans and walk with him awhile. To that, Mason was agreeable, and so together we headed down that path less traveled.
Mason was a painter. As we talked, he shared with me that he had not always practiced painting. In fact, he had only been doing it for just over half a decade. For much of his earlier livelihood he had run a business, which, although related to imagery, was a purely commercial venture.
“I'd always wanted to be a painter though,” he shared. “I suppose I always was one inside, but it took retiring from the commercial world to set me out on this new path. In hindsight, I guess it happened as it should have because I acquired many skills and knowledge along the way that apply to both avocations.”
It was then that I noticed that he carried a parchment tucked under his arm. It was creased, dog-eared and wrinkled. As we came upon some smaller crossroads, he would glance at it briefly then tuck it back under his arm before proceeding. Few artists whom I had met along these roads carried instructions. Most recited directions given them at the outset of their journeys or gathered along the way. I myself had even given directions to some whom I’d encountered in my own travels.
A few, I found, had remembered the guidance. Others...not so much.
A few, I found, had remembered the guidance. Others...not so much.
“Yes,” he told me, noticing my gaze. “They’re instructions - notes and observations made during my earlier journeys in life.”
"But you have not passed this way before?"
"No," he explained. "These are less directions and more a sort of mental toolbox assembled after a career dealing with people and institutions. It also contains guidance shared with me by people who, though not necessarily artists, have undertaken similar journeys and learned a good deal."
He had, of course, also gained guidance and advice from some who were in fact artists, such as the renowned portrait artist, Simmie Knox.
He had, of course, also gained guidance and advice from some who were in fact artists, such as the renowned portrait artist, Simmie Knox.
“Being in the business world has proven useful,” Mason observed. “It taught me to tread carefully but with conviction; to remember productive routes; and not to be afraid to retrace steps when you get it wrong.”
We had come to a stop, and he studied me before continuing.
“Seeking out people who have knowledge, and are willing to share it is also an important part of the journey. Who, after all, is more likely to give better guidance about what lies ahead...the person who has traveled in the same direction in which you are headed, the one returning or the one wandering aimlessly?”
"I know some of these roads, and have always been willing to share what little I know," I offered tentatively, "but I'm traveling a new path with you this day.
"As am I. And it's from exchanges such as these that I learn."
"I know some of these roads, and have always been willing to share what little I know," I offered tentatively, "but I'm traveling a new path with you this day.
"As am I. And it's from exchanges such as these that I learn."
It was no mere chance then that we traveled together, I thought. He wished to learn as much from me as I did from him.
“So then, where ARE you headed?” The question that had been begging to be asked came forward.
He chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I must have just blinked a few times, because he turned and continued walking.
“A great many artists are trying to get to the same place as I am," he began. "We want to get to a place where our work is recognized by major institutions. Where it’s collected by the most prestigious of collectors. Where it gets critically reviewed in a positive light by the outlets that do such things. Where we can be free to create what’s inside of us without compromise."
I nodded.
I nodded.
"The challenge is that many of us choose paths that don’t go anywhere near the major institutions; we don’t know the most prestigious collectors or anyone else who knows them; and most importantly…” he stopped again. “…we don’t produce work that passes muster.”
Mason was very clear in this last declaration, and I could see that it troubled him to say it. It troubled me as well.
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| Southern Sunrise Oil on Belgian Linen, 20"x24" |
“Nothing does,” Mason responded solemnly. “I certainly don’t have that right, but I wish nothing greater than to help every artist enjoy the success that I’m experiencing. Perhaps...maybe...if it comes from someone...a source that they respect...they’ll see it. They'll understand.”
We both fell silent for a long while, quietly taking in the beautiful surroundings. There are unstated rules in the art world. That was unfortunate. Much needed to be said, but only a relative few were allowed to say it.
We both fell silent for a long while, quietly taking in the beautiful surroundings. There are unstated rules in the art world. That was unfortunate. Much needed to be said, but only a relative few were allowed to say it.
We talked quite a bit more that day, and by the time I parted company with Mason, I left with new insights and the names of a few people to meet. I better understood where he was headed, but I wanted to also understand where he had been; to see his journey in retrospect. He had shared a couple of key waypoints from his journey, and I decided to go there and check them out.
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My first stop was the Indiana State Museum in Indianapolis, his most recent waypoint. There I met with Rachel Perry (Chief Curator, Arts and Culture). I wanted to ask about the museum’s recent commissioning and acquisition of one of Mason’s landscape paintings.
Rachel, as it turned out, was engaging and pleasant...and she was delighted to talk about Mason. She was one of those people whose experience and spirit could prove an invaluable treasure, as she knew the much traveled roads over which artists ventured. She and Mason had crossed paths through the Hoosier Salon competition, and it turned out, for both of them, to be an unexpected but thoroughly enriching encounter.
The Indiana State Museum in Indianapolis hosts the venerable Hoosier Salon Exhibit annually. A notable juried event, begun in 1925, The Hoosier Salon is open to artists residing across the state of Indiana, or who have lived in the state of Indiana for at least one year and are Hoosier Salon members. It has the distinction of being the oldest exhibition in Indiana to have maintained consecutive annual exhibitions…even through the great wars, floods, fire and the Great Depression. Most notably, besides being the oldest, it is also said to be “…the most lucrative exhibition in the state for participating artists.”
For that reason, up to 600 entries are typically received each year, though only a quarter of that number may be selected. Paintings selected by a panel of judges are hung in rows from floor to ceiling, "Salon Style" in a prestigious setting. This, then is a trial by fire for artists...submitting work for panel review at a major institution. Some experienced travelers in the art world have come to know these jurors as “gatekeepers.” Those bodies of influence whose nod of approval may open (or abruptly shut) pathways to future success for many.
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| "Decent in the Fog" Oil on Canvas 24" x 48" |
“It’s important in applying to The Hoosier Salon, as in any competition, that artists know this sort of thing beforehand,” she shared. “So often artists don’t perform their due diligence and are discouraged with the outcomes.”
Mason Archie (a member of the Hoosier Salon Patrons Association and Fine Arts Gallery) as it turns out, had done his homework, as many of his submitted works to the Salon were oil landscapes…a genre and media that fit with their old world focus. In point of fact, his painting Decent in the Fog was awarded Best Traditional Landscape in The 82nd Hoosier Salon Annual Juried Exhibition [2006], his first year of entry;
Maui at Dusk won “Outstanding Oil Traditional” at the Hoosier Salon’s 83rd Annual Juried Exhibition [2007]; while
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| "Marshland" Oil on Canvas 24"x30" |
It came as no surprise to me then that, as of 2010, the Indiana State Museum had commissioned one of his paintings for their permanent collection. Ms. Perry (who has been curator at the museum since before its rise to its present stature) assured me that Mason Archie was seen as an exceptional artist in the complete sense.
Commissioning a painting was an easy decision.
What did that mean? In the complete sense?
Simple, she explained.
Simple, she explained.
· He was always professional in his dealings with them.
He delivered professionally prepared artwork, crafted and framed in the fine tradition to which museums have
subscribed for generations.
He’s easy to talk with - both understanding and polite.
He’s generous in spirit.
I smiled a bemused smile. "Not often the case?"
I smiled a bemused smile. "Not often the case?"
“ Hardly. Sometimes commissioning work from artists leads to problems,” she confided without going into the specifics (which I already knew too well). "Artists don’t always approach dealing with museums from a business standpoint. Sometimes they expect too much. Perhaps, just as often, they may be left feeling that advantage has been taken of them. But really! By not dealing with museum protocols in terms of arrangements, pricing, quality as well as panache causes many artists to plain miss out on the very important milepost that being placed in public collections can add to their journey. Even sadder, " she added, "many artists simply lack the courage to approach in the first place."
A quiet moment passed between us.
A quiet moment passed between us.
“The only problem we experienced in this case with Mason Archie,” she continued with a chuckle, “is that it’s usually better to select work from an artist’s existing body of work.”
"Of course."
"Well it turned out that Mason, on visiting his studio, didn’t have any work from which to make an immediate selection. His work sells so quickly that commissioning a piece was the only way to go.”
"Of course."
"Well it turned out that Mason, on visiting his studio, didn’t have any work from which to make an immediate selection. His work sells so quickly that commissioning a piece was the only way to go.”
We chuckled and agreed that his wasn’t a terrible position for an artist. I could see the downside for artists, however, if the other overwhelmingly positive factors that Mason had going for him were missing from their toolboxes.
Rachel went on to say. “While I found that Mason had no inventory, he has good credentials, a good track record and has shown himself to be responsible and professional. Besides…his work really is excellent!”
She had not been, however, the only decision-maker. The Collections and Review Committee would also have had to approve.
More Gatekeepers.
Mason wasn’t a terribly hard sell, however. The Committee was thrilled at the prospect of acquiring his work, and in 2011 his painting entitled The Road Less Traveled was delivered…on time and exceeding expectations!
More Gatekeepers.
Mason wasn’t a terribly hard sell, however. The Committee was thrilled at the prospect of acquiring his work, and in 2011 his painting entitled The Road Less Traveled was delivered…on time and exceeding expectations!
So there it was.
Mason had been here, and he had been successful! He'd arrived at the gates of this waypoint...made his case...entered and left a mark. That entire experience, no doubt, had added valuable guidance to the parchment that he carried. It furnished a blueprint for dealing with other institutions that he would come upon in his travels.
Mason had been here, and he had been successful! He'd arrived at the gates of this waypoint...made his case...entered and left a mark. That entire experience, no doubt, had added valuable guidance to the parchment that he carried. It furnished a blueprint for dealing with other institutions that he would come upon in his travels.
Rachel and I talked a great deal more, and by the time I’d left her I’d learned a good deal, and reaffirmed, in my own mind, much of the timeless wisdom that had been shared with artists over the ages. She was, as I have said, one of those people.
I promised to return, perhaps when The Road Less Traveled was presented to the public?
I promised to return, perhaps when The Road Less Traveled was presented to the public?
“Talk with Ms. Kisha Tandy about that,” Rachel advised me. "The Road Less Traveled will be part of an exhibition scheduled to open in January 2012. Kisha can share more information with you.
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I thanked her, and went looking for Ms. Tandy, Assistant Curator of Social History there at the Indiana State Museum. I read that she had a background in Indiana History, African American History and Library Science. I found her busily engaged in her work, but after a few attempts to get her attention, we settled into a comfortable conversation.
“REPRESENT...” Her voice was young, soft and a little raspy on the edge, and had what sounded like the remnants of a cold (or perhaps an allergy?). I felt bad asking her to chat, but she quickly waved off any concern that I might have had.
"...is the name of the upcoming exhibit in January 2012 for which we're preparing. Yes, Mason Archie will be part of it,” she shared. “We’re very happy to have him in this exhibition.”
"...is the name of the upcoming exhibit in January 2012 for which we're preparing. Yes, Mason Archie will be part of it,” she shared. “We’re very happy to have him in this exhibition.”
I wasn’t sure if the whisper soft quality of her voice was natural or the result of strained vocal cords. It was, nonetheless, pleasant.
“The piece that he created for the museum, The Road Less Traveled, is a landscape with a figure in it, isn’t it?” I asked.
“The piece that he created for the museum, The Road Less Traveled, is a landscape with a figure in it, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes, it is, and I love his work! His pieces speak to me," she offered. "I was immediately attracted to the lone figure in that landscape."
I could feel genuine enthusiasm in her inflection, even through the rasp of her voice.
"I see that figure as the storyteller, just coming away from having taught a lesson, or perhaps going to share knowledge. The character exudes simplicity, yet has a bearing of integrity and strength…simple honesty describes that piece.” She paused. “I suppose everyone will see something different, but that’s what art should do. That’s what it does for me.”
I could feel genuine enthusiasm in her inflection, even through the rasp of her voice.
"I see that figure as the storyteller, just coming away from having taught a lesson, or perhaps going to share knowledge. The character exudes simplicity, yet has a bearing of integrity and strength…simple honesty describes that piece.” She paused. “I suppose everyone will see something different, but that’s what art should do. That’s what it does for me.”
“Well, I guess that would answer my next question about how you feel about his work,” I chimed encouragingly.
“Definitely.”
We both laughed.
We both laughed.
“So how did you first discover his work?”
“A few years ago, someone told me to have a look at one of his pieces,” she began. “I saw it and thought, "It's very well done." Then I met him.”
“At the museum?”
“Yes, There’s an exhibit entitled 'Meet the Artists' held annually in the Indianapolis Marion County Public Library, however in 2007 it was under renovation and the exhibit was held at the state museum instead. Mason had a wonderful…beautiful...landscape with him. He had come, as it turned out, to pick up his piece. It was “Wildflowers at Big Sur” I think.” She seemed to be trying to access the exact details of the meeting.
“Please go on.”
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| Maui at Dusk Oil on Canvas Size 48"x48" |
“Maui at Dusk." she added brightly, evidently pleased at being able to recall that title.
“You like his landscapes then, I take it?”
She went on to say that she did indeed. She found Mason’s landscapes exquisite, naming a few that I later reviewed after visiting his website on my smart phone. She was right. They were quite exquisite compositions.
“I guess you’ve dealt with a number of artists over time, Kisha. What’s your impression of Mason as an artist?”
“I found him to be focused. He’s a determined and driven artist, yet a subtle and unassuming person. He’s hardworking and prolific, and has done a lot in a considerably short period of time. He’s made inroads.”
An interesting choice of words, I reflected. “Yes, just five or six years doing fine art, as I understand.”
“That’s right. Think of it. I think he’s going to make further inroads into the larger art world too,” she went on. “He’s a really sound artist to deal with. We visited his studio only just earlier this year to commission a painting. Within a short time he not only had the piece completed, but had it framed properly and delivered.”
Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, but her enthusiasm came through. I realized that talking was in fact straining her voice.
Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, but her enthusiasm came through. I realized that talking was in fact straining her voice.
“So when do the rest of us get to see that piece?” I asked, hoping that I’d not taken up too much of her time already.
“It’s going to be part of an exhibition called REPRESENT opening on January 21, 2012 here at the museum. It’s going to feature African American artists. I’ll be working with the curator on it. I can send you information?” I allowed a pause, and she continued, “There’s an exhibit entitled 'Heritage Spectrum' that’s been offered here in the past. It features work showcasing painting, sculpture and photography of minority students from the Herron School of Art and Design Spectrum. This exhibit goes further. It’s going to be a historical presentation of the African American experience.”
She beemed a document to me that contained all the information, and as I scanned it, I made a point to look ahead at my calendar for the opening date.
REPRESENT
January 21 – July 15, 2012
Ford Gallery, Indiana State Museum
Indiana’s African American artists have contributed much to the cultural history of the state. Working in all media, the artists have distinguished themselves in regional and national exhibitions. They have taught generations – further advancing the appreciation of art.
It is often an unnecessary sociological tendency to classify artists according to race. Modes of expression, at least confined to Western Society, are for the most part universal. Stylistically, there is little to differentiate between the way an African American artist paints, draws or sculpts and the way a Latino, Caucasian, or Asian American does.
Yet every artist does draw upon his or her life experience when he or she creates, and racial identity is often a part of that creative expression. It may be as subtle as the choice of a particular model to paint such as Deacon Hampton’s “Special Commemoration” or as direct as Malcolm Mobutu Smith’s use of racial stereotypes and graffiti references in his sculpture, “Baggage.”
REPRESENT is an exhibition of artwork by African Americans who have lived and worked in the Hoosier State or are currently here. The Indiana State Museum’s permanent collection showcases the outstanding talent and inspiration from William Edouard Scott’s early French easel paintings in the early 1900s to the geometric forms and harmonic color of Felrath Hines’ mid-century canvases to the numerous pieces by current artists who paint, photograph, sculpt, and make textile, ceramic or collage artwork.
Current artists included in the exhibit are Mason Archie, India Cruse-Griffin, Vance Farrow, Linda Gray, Jerome Neal, Wayne Manns, Jay Parnell, Carl Pope, William Rasdell, Malcolm Mobutu Smith, Roderic Trabue, Joel Washington, Jake Webster, Carol White, and Michele Wood.
In the exhibit, video interviews with current artists will focus on the question, “Why do you make art?”A special workshop, “The Business of Art,” offered again due to the huge success of our first such workshop, features a panel of art professionals who will talk about marketing, grant writing, and making successful proposals to galleries and museums. This will take place on April 13, 2012, from 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.
As I took my leave of her, I smiled broadly. I had been uncertain at the outset of what I might learn, but I came away wishing that I could have engaged her as a docent to learn much more about the museum. It was clear that she loved what she did for a living. “I have to thank you for sharing your time, Kisha. I especially appreciate your personal reflections on Mason. I know that many artists would like to receive such powerfully favorable feedback on both their work and their ethic from those whom they’ve met in the arts institutions.”
“It was my pleasure, Mr. Dyer,” she replied, her voice smiling though stifling a cough.
As I emerged, I felt that I knew Mason Archie that much better. The reflections of two professionals, Rachel Perry and Kisha Tandy, who clearly respected him and his work, said volumes.
I was particularly pleased to learn about “ REPRESENT.” I hoped to return to see it. Celebration and recognition of artwork by people of African-American heritage in mainstream institutions portended much. The American cultural landscape had already been greatly enriched by the contributions of African-Americans, but not nearly as much in the domain of fine art as in other areas. Every exposure serves to enrich those who might not otherwise have encountered the richness of talent coming out of the Diaspora and move art, by people who happen to be of African-American heritage, into the mainstream.
I knew of a site created by a man who likewise believed strongly that African-American artists and their experiences was something that the world could and should embrace. His name was Najee Dorsey, and he, along with his partner Janelle Dowell, had created a place called Black Art In America dot com. I decided that it should be my next destination. “REPRESENT” was the sort of thing he’d be interested in.
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Finding Black Art In America wasn’t difficult. I had been there before, though not often enough. It’s existence and location had been made known to me many months earlier through an artist of my acquaintance named Akili Ron Anderson - a venerable and noted artist from the Washington, DC region. It had been in existence for several months and was a place where, each month, thousands gathered to exchange knowledge and display their artwork. I’d learned that it had begun out of Najee Dorsey’s vision to create a forum for education and exposure about art by African Americans, and to create guideposts for those artists. He had seen so many underexposed artists wandering those twisting roads of the art world without hope of ever reaching a destination of any significance…. He wanted to help them.
When I first arrived at Black Art In America I found it teeming with people from all walks. Not just artists, but merchants, collectors, curators, consultants and the curious. As I wandered through the site over time, I discovered people from not only the USA, but from other countries around the globe. Groups had formed. Forums were explored. Ideas flowed freely and artwork was shared. It was reminiscent of the Age of Salons, but here in the twenty-first century it had a reach that defied borders and the limitations of the brick and mortar world. I too began sharing its location with those whom I knew.
It was a virtual oasis.
I traveled there several months later to find that BAIA (as it had come to be known) had, in that relatively short time, grown into a popular Mecca where nearly two million visits had been made by people the world over. It was astounding. Thousands of artists were there. Groups of collectors aligned, trading information useful to their pursuits. Scholars and neophytes led discussions. Questions were asked and voices resonated responses throughout. It was unlike any social site that I’d been to thus far.
It was inspired and clean. There was organization here…and fresh content. It was easy to navigate, yet filled with numerous nooks and passageways offering diversion and enrichment in which one could lose oneself. The sort of place where one might spend hours or even days without a sense of lost time. There was purpose in this social site, and that promised it a long life…or so I surmised.
I needed to talk with Najee Dorsey. Wanted to hear from him about how this had happened? Was this what he had hoped for? Who stood with him?
I reached out to him in Atlanta, Georgia, and I found him moving quickly through his daily paces. He had artwork to deliver and a dozen other things to get done in a day that simply didn’t contain enough hours, but he was more than willing to split his focus to talk with me about BAIA.
His energy was palpable. His speech - at times hurried. I tried taking notes, but set my pen aside, deciding instead to just listen. He had much to say and a great deal of passion driving his words. I wanted to understand rather than quote. I wanted to feel the vision.
Najee was himself an artist long-traveled on the art world landscape, but he was also doing things that few others had done. He had cleared a vast terrain between roads in the art world, essentially connecting them. He’d made it easier for artists and followers of art by African Americans to travel and find one another.
What I came to understand from him was that BAIA, though impressive in its own right was still far from what he needed it to be. Sure, it was becoming what he had initially hoped for, and yes, there was this wondrous growth that it had experienced in its first year of existence, but BAIA still needed to grow ever so much more. Certainly, in quality terms, it could already compete with the iconic social sites of the day. And yes, it was absolutely developing relationships with a few choice sponsors…but behind that growth was the sweat equity of but a few people…toiling daily and investing heavily in its viability. I sensed weariness yet hopefulness in his words.
To succeed, BAIA needed to accelerate. Like many captains of innovation, Najee was not content with slow steady growth. Slow and steady was for old, ailing giants. This was a nascent fledgling with broad, strong wings and a pounding heart. It needed to take flight – to take its place alongside the other soaring leaders in the interactive space that defined the times. And for that it needed to eat.
We talked about this for nearly an hour, and still could have gone on. I understood almost from the outset what he was expressing, and so absorbed his statements with some uneasiness. Here was something that served a larger community…a global community, and in which thousands partook and yet…what would it take for those very people to lend their backs to its maintenance and growth? How many realized what it took to make a place such as this from nothing and then sustain it much less to grow it? There was the content that so many enjoyed prepared twice weekly by but a few hands. There was outreach and filming done at considerable expense. Web hosting and promotion and a host of other tasks that drained precious time from personal income-generating pursuits.
BAIA had not been created as a business, but the need to monetize it for the sake of its survival became quickly apparent as it drew its first full breaths.
BAIA had not been created as a business, but the need to monetize it for the sake of its survival became quickly apparent as it drew its first full breaths.
I asked him if the population of BAIA was disposed toward supporting it, given the teeming numbers utilizing it? Sadly, he replied, after 2 fund-raising drives, only about 80 of the several thousand members and visitors were supporting the site.
I was taken aback. Surely people were benefiting from being there? I had myself witnessed the networking and exchanges being made. Artists were meeting avid collectors...and gallerists were finding both!
I was taken aback. Surely people were benefiting from being there? I had myself witnessed the networking and exchanges being made. Artists were meeting avid collectors...and gallerists were finding both!
Perhaps, he mused, people simply assumed from the richness of the place that it was so because it was already a cash cow…and perhaps some were even put off? After all, was not this a tremendous branding mechanism for its founder? Wouldn't he, Najee Dorsey, grow wealthy from this good fortune?
Not so, Najee contested.
He was already a successful artist. In quantum measure, he had benefited less from the exposure than many of the obscure and underexposed artists who now found that tens of thousands of people could see the labor of their brush strokes and learn their names. Artists of color could now be seen through the nearly 2 million page views that had transpired in just that first year. That would not have happened for most of them. That was one of Najee’s prime goals…not self-promotion.
BAIA had become a free marketing tool. Collectors were now buying from artists on the site. Najee had himself purchased other artists’ work. Everyone benefited…except, it would seem, those paving the roads here that made it all possible.
He was already a successful artist. In quantum measure, he had benefited less from the exposure than many of the obscure and underexposed artists who now found that tens of thousands of people could see the labor of their brush strokes and learn their names. Artists of color could now be seen through the nearly 2 million page views that had transpired in just that first year. That would not have happened for most of them. That was one of Najee’s prime goals…not self-promotion.
BAIA had become a free marketing tool. Collectors were now buying from artists on the site. Najee had himself purchased other artists’ work. Everyone benefited…except, it would seem, those paving the roads here that made it all possible.
It was a sobering business model. Forget EBITDA. Forget measurements of profitability and forward looking earnings projections. There were all sorts of promising metrics available through search engine statistics. NONE OF THAT MATTERED IF BAIA SHUTTERED AND LOCKED ITS GATES. Black Art In America had been forged out of a need to support the common good of a brilliant though uncelebrated arts community – not profitability. It had become, in this time, a forum that allowed the audience to participate and establish a global presence. To profit or prosper. It had developed a de-facto global art jury of thousands to assess the work of artists and elevate the best to prominence. Black Art In America had become the preeminent business networking tool for African American Artists and those who enjoyed it. It had become a business. It needed what businesses need to survive.
I asked Najee what his thoughts were regarding Mason Archie. Without hesitation he replied, “I respect his work. I’m definitely looking to be a supporter.”
Mason, it would seem, was one of those artists whose appearance on BAIA had created a stir…the quality and level of his work taking many by surprise. A number of collectors and gallerists had almost immediately reached out to him, and some had already purchased his paintings. Mason, in turn, had reached back and supported BAIA. The exception by Najee’s analysis. Ironically, Mason was probably one of only a fraction of the artists who came through BAIA who did not need the added exposure. His trajectory was evident from his first appearance there. Were there others?
Mason, it would seem, was one of those artists whose appearance on BAIA had created a stir…the quality and level of his work taking many by surprise. A number of collectors and gallerists had almost immediately reached out to him, and some had already purchased his paintings. Mason, in turn, had reached back and supported BAIA. The exception by Najee’s analysis. Ironically, Mason was probably one of only a fraction of the artists who came through BAIA who did not need the added exposure. His trajectory was evident from his first appearance there. Were there others?
The thing that came to mind as I looked around was that I didn’t see a great many of the prominent figures from the African American Art World (a term that was gaining respectability now that the richness and success of the genre was imposing a larger footprint). I saw a few notable luminaries like Faith Ringgold, Tuliza Fleming, Akili Ron Anderson, Paul Goodnight and others, but I knew of a dozen (whose names perch on the tip of my often fragile memory) who were not present. Najee surmised that some may have been put off by the name of the place – not cared to be categorized as a genre not of their own choosing, but based on their heritage alone. I agreed, reluctantly.
However, Black Art In America was no more restricted to “Black Art” than it was to the confines of the borders. It was no more disparaging a title than the title given to art selling this year at the great auction houses. “Russian Art”; “Italian Renaissance”; “Dutch Masters”; all of these are fetching seven and eight figure bounties. I could see Mason Archie’s landscapes, evocative of the Tonalist movement and bearing the character of Naturalist pre-Impressionism art, being carted to one the storehouses at Christies. There could be no excuse for shallow fear or haughty contempt.
Najee didn't have to respond.
Najee didn't have to respond.
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| In Progress, Migration Series #2 Oil on Linen, 32"x48" |
Najee had gone back to building and maintaining and a dozen other things that his day entailed. Voices wafted over the vastness of BAIA. Heightened and excited voices. There was certainly promise here, only I knew that such promise must have a price, and that it must be met. I prayed that others would hear that message and spread it.
On my way out I saw a figure traveling toward me in the distance. I recognized the steadiness of his pace and the trappings that he carried. Mason had been busy in his travels. He smiled in greeting as we drew nearer, sharing that he had indeed done much in the time since we had parted. Other museums were asking for him to come. Prominent galleries had worked him into their calendars for the coming years. He had work that was not as yet completed that had been promised to buyers by his representative, E & S Gallery of Louisville, Kentucky.
I was not surprised.
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| THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED, #4 Oil on Belgian Linen 18 x 24 in. |
I turned and watched him as he entered. He did so without fanfare as was in keeping with his nature, blending into the throngs until I could see him no more. I looked ahead on the road before me and saw a good many paths and roads intersecting. I understood better now the roads that both Mason and Najee had taken. I understood more about determination and risk-taking. I knew that there were unknowns and dangers on some paths, but even greater rewards and achievement as well.
I had much yet to do in life. Many roads yet to choose from.
I would decide when I came to them.
I had much yet to do in life. Many roads yet to choose from.
I would decide when I came to them.
© 2011 D. Edward Dyer, All Rights Reserved
Mason Archie’s work can be seen through the URL
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The Indiana State Museum is located at
650 W. Washington St.
Indianapolis, IN 46204
317.232.1637
and is also accessible through the URL
