So just after I ask for reasons to leave Austin, I am provided with several all in one weekend. The following is not a slam on any art, but rather a slam on Austin's anachronistic and stultifying racial politics, which made themselves visible in dramatic ways during my weekend art touring.

I started Saturday afternoon at the grand reopening of the George Washington Carver Museum and Library. I'd known this was coming and had heard about the galleries, the studios, the yadda, yadda, yadda, but man, the place is huge! I did not realize until I was actually in the place, the scope of it all.

Before:


After:


There are dance studios, recording facilities, a kitchen, classrooms, a theater, and multiple exhibition spaces. Now, this complex was definitely designed in the "community center" model of public buildings. It's got that utopian, all-in-one, this-will-solve-all-our-community-needs feel to it, which is not in itself a bad thing. It's worth a trip from anywhere in Austin to see it and I plan at some point to take yoga classes, which start next week there.

For art, though, I already know there are going to be serious constraints on it. Because it's more community center than museum, properly speaking, everything that comes through there is sure to have that family-friendly, city-approved sheen to it. It's the kind of place where you might see the Gees Bend quilts, but don't look for a Yinka Shonibare show anytime soon. Curator Bernadette Phieffer as much as announced this fact at last fall's art symposium when she said that all artists seeking exhibition would be screened for the family friendliness of their art. Not those words, but the intent was clear. I imagine even a Tana Hargest or Susan Smith-Pinelo would have trouble getting through a net that tight. At least no one has yet uttered the eye-roll inducing u-word ("uplifting"), which is usually just a nice way of saying litmus-test censorship. This is the same bullshit I complained about here and here.

If you see the space, however, the constraints seem to be built right into the architecture. It's more YMCA than "AMOA East." And I don't mean that in a dismissive way; the facilities are amazing. But if there was any lingering thought that this space could be a home to Austin's emerging, black, on-the-edge artists, think again. It will take a concerted constellation of events to make that happen. (below, clickable Carver images)

Notably absent from the opening were the bulk of the east-side hipsters who chimed in with great enthusiasm when Jason Neulander talked last April about inhabiting the east side not as a gentrifying colonist, but as a responsible citizen who participates in and engages with the community that's already there. Their absence was not a surprise. In fact, Joseph Phillips predicted that such do-gooderist notions would have no real applicable value, even though I disagreed with him at the time. Well, it's events like this that confirm that his glass-half-empty view is probably pretty dead on.

The hipster contingent did, however, show up in force at JD DiFabbio's Plan B Gallery for a group show of earthwork artists. Readers from more sophisticated cities are not likely to grasp the starkness of Austin's pre-war levels of segregation. Houston? Nope, not like Austin. San Francisco? Boston? Not even close. In Austin, Interstate-35 might as well be an iron wall topped with razor wire. Sure there are some interlopers on either side, but there is almost no communication between these communities. And seemingly no recognition that there's even a problem. (right, Ledia Carroll, Six Lenses, detail)

So the crowd at Plan B was as white as the crowd at the Carver was black. There's no way to say that without sounding as though it's a judgement. It's not; it's just a fact that I won't pretend not to have noticed.

Anyway, I don't know how I've missed the Plan B space all these years. It is easily one of the most gracious spaces for art viewing in the city. With enough space to give the artwork room to breathe, which is to say, to respect the act of viewing, it's rather a rarity. Plus there's the elegant interplay of internal and external spaces, which further beautifies both the art and the space.

None of the artwork hit it out of the park for me, but nothing went terribly awry either. Ryan Thomson's digital C prints depicted vapor trails elegantly juxtaposed against similarly-patterned markings made in the dirt. Earth and sky, body and spirit, corporal and spiritual. The compositions were uniformly beautiful. Unfortunately, they were held back by that flat digital-photography look that people have come to accept as normal. This was especially apparent on the sides of the photographs depicting earth, where subtle magenta and green hues appear in all the wrong places, to say nothing of the lack of density in the darks. I'm all for digital modes of reproduction, but for fine art, you gotta either control that digital artifact or use it with purpose. (left, Ryan Thompson, Trails #2)

It was nice to see the space though, finally. If all goes according to plan, I'll be showing there in April. That is, if this posting doesn't get me kicked out of the show.

Another, less toney, set of hipsters could be found at Gallery Lombardi's Scion show. I find it impossible not to be charmed by the utterly pretension-less setting of Gallery Lombardi. Clearly, the current Scion graffiti show mounted anywhere else would have come across as neutered, corporate-packaged "cool," designed to let the hiperati feel superior to and annoyed by the products being shoved under their noses, thus safely opening the door to a later purchase when they realize that, well, they have to drive something. But at Lombardi it was just no-brow fun.

It's become obvious that graffiti culture is following the same trajectory as blues music. Pioneered by working- and lower-class black artists, it is first seen as unambiguously dangerous, degenerate, even criminal. Eventually it gets coopted by the white middle class, passes through edgy-but-safe and finally comes to rest as a plaything of the culturally refined. Meanwhile, middle-class black folks trip over each other to distance themselves from the practice as fast as possible even as it becomes more and more mainstream. I mean really, can you imagine such a show going up at the "family-friendly" Carver? And when was the last time you attended a blues concert with a black audience? Obviously, that's an exaggeration (there are outposts), but one made to illustrate a point. It's just the weird way culture migrates in this country. (above, artist S. Donovan bombs a panel realtime; click to enlarge)

So, the crowd was rawkus at Lombardi, which is normal because Lombardi always turns into a street fair. I ran into Charles Randolph who just now tells me about his space that opened weeks ago, and also DJ Fuckin' A, who tells me Action Figure is working on a spot for PBS on downtown DJs. So I leave there in a good mood, though in so doing I reduce the black population of the gallery by exactly 50%.

From there it was a quick turnaround at home, slipped into a silver, crushed-velvet shirt and headed off with Kazki to the decadence that is Carnaval Brasiliero. That was just purely awesome and for a minute I was able to let go of my artworld hangups. Inspired by the sound and the movement and the music, I just got all swept up. Then I remembered I'm a portrait artist and started taking pictures of people. (below, clickable Carnaval pics)



Obviously there is political strife everywhere, but from what I can glean Brazilian culture seems much more like Manhattan culture or even LA culture; mixing along racial, religious and cultural lines is endemic to who they are as a people. So unlike Austin, so unlike the land of the Concrete Curtain between East and West.

Wow! What a weekend! I missed it all. Dang.

I'll have to take the kids to the "family-friendly" Carver.

How well do you think the AMOA handles the family thing? They have specifically family-oriented shows once or twice a year, which my kids love, and they're not all about puppies and bluebonnets, either -- mostly they differ from the regular shows in offering supplemental educational materials and a hands-on art experience. My girls love them, and in fact are so spoiled by them that they turn their noses up at any art experience that isn't hands on. I do know of one work that the AMOA did censor on "family-friendly" grounds, probably ten years back in their Laguna Gloria location. It was a piece by the Art Guys consisting of a dildo mounted on a taxidermied waterfowl, entitled "Fuck a Duck". As a dad who's not prepared to explain certain things to a six year old I can't say I entirely blame them, although surely they could have found a way to put it behind a curtain for adult viewing. Or is that worse than pulling it entirely?

Lastly, am I wrong in my guess that very few people in Austin know how to samba? In Brazil they say you have to grow up in the favelas to do it right.

Hey! The dead have arisen!

I always try to reserve judgement on how well people's family-oriented programs work. I don't have kids and can't know all of what a parent's concerns are. I do get riled, though, when the major art outlet for an entire community seems to have that litmus test for what goes in and what stays out. I do believe that grown folks need a place to be able to think about stuff related to grown folks.

AMOA seems from the outside to do a decent job of at least considering a family perspective. That's cool. And if you want something edgier and...well, raunchier...you can always go across the street to Arthouse or to Women and Their Work. If you're looking to explore ideas within a black community context that might displease the church ladies, however, good luck, because we have no Arthouse across the street from the Carver.

And bear in mind that we are talking about black people here whose unique forms of social censorship still internally encourage some of the most reactionary relations of gender, sexuality and religious practice of anybody around.

Samba? Who knows?