Growing up, one of my greatest joys was visiting my grandfather’s brownstone in Harlem. It was a refuge where I could run in the streets in the summer and feel the most myself, the most Black. These memories started to come flooding back to me as I headed to the ninth annual 1-54 Contemporary African Art Fair in New York City. On five floors of the Malt House in Manhattanville’s Factory District on West 127th Street, 26 galleries from Africa, Europe and the United States showcase the work of more than 80 artists from Africa and its diaspora until Sunday, May 21.
I was reminded of the scarcity of black participation in art exhibitions while visiting a gallery that opened earlier this week. I was one of only three black people present, and upon entering the security guard asked me if my name was on the list for the opening, but did not ask for the name of the white person who is entered after me. At 1-54 years old, I was delighted to immerse myself in African art in a neighborhood that makes me proud of my blackness. Kimberly Drew, co-author of Black Futures (2020), which I quickly stopped on my way out of the exhibition, pointed out that this is rare in New York, as many art exhibition spaces are placed in the most affluent neighborhoods, excluding so many people of color.
When I approached Storm Ascher, owner of the Superposition Gallery, which was exhibiting works by Chinaedu Nwadibia, a Nigerian photographer, sculptor and writer, I was seeking refuge from the large crowds that flooded the first floor of the fair. At first glance, Nwadibia’s photographs and sculptures didn’t catch my eye, but as Ascher explained his work, my love for them grew. In “Show Me The Way (Zimuzo)” (2022), Nwadibia depicts a woman painted in a blue-ivory color holding braids of the same color in front of her face, seated against greenery hanging from a wooden framed window similar to those on a church. The juxtaposition between black women, who have the least systemic power, and the church, which holds the majority of power in many countries, powerfully illustrates the lack of authority we have over our bodies and lives compared to white men who are often centered by religious spaces.
Ascher explained that she’s taken a new approach to exhibiting art: Instead of having a single physical space, her gallery is nomadic, so artists can participate in whatever community they choose.
“Once galleries pop up in an arts district, they raise the rent for everything else,” she told me. “Our idea was not to have a permanent space in order to share and not take up space.”
Ascher’s observations made me feel like a black woman. Many of the artworks on display at the fair also reminded me of why I love going to art galleries: to engage with visuals that help me question my own principles and the world around me. ‘surrounded. I was drawn to “Adja” (2023) by Mobolaji Ogunrosoye, an artist based in Lagos; the abstract collage of a black woman’s face made up of overlapping circular cut-outs placed on white paper burned at the edges explores how the body of black women is often objectified. “A Pose With Akuaba” (2022) by Ghanaian artist Rufai Zakari, a multimedia piece made of plastic bags and food wrappers, shows a black woman holding her phone and taking a selfie. The presence of this imagery in a room created from recycled materials made me think about whether taking selfies is a waste of time or adds value to my life. (I’m still not sure.)
“The Forbidden Fruit” (2019) by Moroccan-Belgian photographer Mous Lamrabat is inspired by “The Son of Man” (1964) by René Magritte, but instead of a white man in a suit with an apple in front of his face , a black man dressed in traditional African clothing with earrings and a tattoo on his neck stood in front of me. Lamrabat’s work, like that of Magritte, questions what we consider to be usual or customary in society, particularly in the Western world.
As I left the Malt House and fell in love with much of the art on display, I came across Thomas E. Moore III, Director of Development at the National Academy of Design. He told me he thought 1-54 could usher in “a new dawn”.
“There’s a creative energy that centers not just black Americans, but also black people in the diaspora,” Moore said. “I love that in Harlem you can walk down 116th street and there’s the African market, and there’s a touch of Kenya and Nairobi everywhere as well as the Caribbean, isn’t it ? You have Barbados, Jamaica, Trinidad, and it’s all here,” he said.
Personally, I’m always skeptical of including black artists in the cultural sector, but the art on display at 1-54 made me as proud of my blackness as playing outside of my grandfather’s brownstone . I hope the art world will follow his example.
