Open My Eyes

Bearing Witness

Where barbarism and art meet, a landscape of hope and disappointment is formed. This month, the gallery at Tacoma Community College maps the terrain.

Photo by Mike Kane

The history of art is pockmarked with the art of atrocity. From Francisco Goya with The Disasters of War, an indictment of the atrocities of the six-year-long Spanish War of Independence beginning in 1808, to Lewis Hine’s photography exposing unfair child labor practices in the early twentieth century, the artist has embodied the role of the witness, often helping to transform social perceptions and enact change. And sometimes not, though not for lack of effort. One story about Goya tells of his servant asking him, “Why do you paint these barbarities that men commit?” Goya’s answer: “To tell men forever that they should not be barbarians.”

Inspired by the artists like Goya and Hine who have tackled unpleasant truths throughout the ages, the gallery at Tacoma Community College is mounting a multimedia group exhibition that explores themes of social injustice. The show offers local artists an opportunity to share their personal explorations of ongoing inequities in the twenty-first century and gives the public an opportunity to connect with uncomfortable realities.

“At the root of socially engaged art is the concept of engagement,” says Beverly Naidus, an eminent scholar and artist who teaches at the University of Washington in Tacoma and served as one of the show’s jurors. “So we first understand this kind of art as one that is connecting the pieces, connecting people with their feelings, their pasts, their dreams and each other. There is a sense of empowerment when people recognize their own feelings of injustice in an artist’s work. Suddenly they might have the confidence to tell their own story.”

Replete with themes that include war, global poverty, the violation of civil and constitutional rights and the destruction of our environment, the exhibition, titled Social Injustice, includes a lot of challenging material. But it is not without hope. Look closely and you may be moved to shout, write a letter, talk with people in the gallery, re-examine your perceptions or simply express thanks for the artists who dare to speak their truth. But what motivates the artists to carry on this conversation? Do they view their work as a possible antidote to global ills? And where does the audience come in? Are these artists influenced by the viewing public’s response to their work? City Arts spoke with three participating artists to learn more about their content and style.

The Social Injustice exhibition at the gallery at Tacoma Community College (January 15–March 15) includes an opening reception on January 21, 4pm–7pm, and a panel discussion with Alice Dubiel, Wendy Fein, Ann Johnston-Schuster, John McCuistion and Beverly Naidus on February 2, 4pm–5:30pm.

John McCuistion has been a professor at the University of Puget Sound since 1976 and chairman of the art department since 2006. He has exhibited widely and is the recipient of numerous awards and honors, most recently the John Lantz Senior Sabbatical Fellowship in 2008, which he used to travel to Mexico, Peru and Chile to study pre-Hispanic ceramics.

 Fragged, detail, 2003, photo by Ross Mulhausen

The exhibition includes mixed-media/ceramic stoneware pieces from your G.I. series. Can you expand on your artist statement?
I started the series in 2003 in response to the U.S. involvement in Iraq and to certain words and phrases [used by the media]; the individual pieces are the result of a news story on TV, an article in the paper or something I read online. In a way, it was like reporting. I was artist-as-reporter – but without an audience. Remember when George Bush said: “We’re going to smoke them out”? And words like “collateral damage,” which is just so sanitized, and “enemy combatant.” These phrases were invented to sell the war to the U.S. public.

Have you exhibited the G.I. series before?
Yes, initially at University of Puget Sound. But I’ve had limited success exhibiting this work. I had a Seattle gallery owner tell me that he couldn’t show them because he didn’t want to lose his clientele. It was discouraging. Though I make a lot of work that is very decorative, this work is not about decoration. It’s about content.

Do you feel that you have a responsibility as an artist to address social injustice?
You know, I don’t know that I have a choice. You make the stuff because you are compelled to do it. I don’t just sit around and think, “Gee, what am I going to make today that is relevant to the bad stuff that’s going on?” Events happen and then you say, “Well, I’ve got to do this.” And sadly, I think this work is still very relevant.

Is the role of the artist distinct from other voices that comment on social injustice?
Yes. I think that what an artist makes becomes truth for that artist. It certainly is for me.

Do you hope that your work at TCC will elicit some kind of response or dialogue?
I hope that the work will motivate people to look a little bit deeper into what they think about the government and our involvement in the war. I think that might happen – but I might not know it. Nobody has ever written me and said, “You inspired me – and I’m protesting right now and would you please post my bail.” But you do hope for change.

What’s one of the challenges of your work and medium?
It’s very disheartening to put so much energy into a figure and have it break. But that happens in a kiln that is 2,300 degrees Fahrenheit. Being at the end of my career, I can say that I’ve had a lot of successes and failures – but the failures made the successes. So after failure it’s important to get back in the studio and keep on making stuff.

Alice Di Certo has an MA in art history from Georgia State University and a Laurea in Lettere (Degree in Humanities – art history and Italian literature) from Ca’ Foscari University in Venice, Italy. She is a part-time instructor and studio technician for the art department at Tacoma Community College.

Alice Di Certo, Untitled, from the Skin and Flesh series, 2004

What inspired Skin and Flesh, your abstract “flesh landscape” series?
I grew up in Italy with that famous Benetton advertisement [“United Colors of Benetton,” featuring ethnically diverse models]. But in Italy that kind of diversity is not a reality. My first time in the U.S. was through an exchange program that brought me to Atlanta. The diversity in Atlanta was very exciting for me. But, I realized pretty quickly that people were grouping up by race. It’s just different colors of skin. Why can’t we get along? I became interested in that subject and created this series.

What did you know about the U.S. before moving here from Italy?
Not much. But two things really stuck in my head from childhood. One was the American Indian. I had a map with all of the tribes. The other was The Autobiography of Malcolm X. There was one part about segregated drinking fountains and stores where African Americans were not allowed. That really hit me. It made no sense.

Why did you choose abstraction to address issues of racism and bias?
Because you can’t tell who is who. You can’t tell who is African American, Asian American, Mexican American or Caucasian. I’m not giving you enough information. Interestingly, when I presented this work to my graduate school classmates and teacher, they could only see black and white. They did not see all of the shades in between – but there were many different skin tones. We need to get beyond the immediate judgment of the surface. That would make the world such a better place.

Were your subjects acquainted or strangers?
Some of the subjects were friends. In other cases, I’d approach strangers. “Excuse me, would you mind touching that person over there?”

In your video, Voices, you asked people to recount their personal experiences with discrimination. You don’t show their faces, only their mouths. Why?
Because lips reveal less about race, and I wanted to keep the focus on the words. I asked people if they had ever been discriminated against. Often I had to rephrase the question so many times. So many people said “No! Never!” But finally the stories would come out. Everybody had experienced discrimination based on the way they look.

Are issues of discrimination and bias the primary focus of your work now?
I am interested in social relationships and the environment. My pieces are generally about one of those topics. In some cases I’m very conceptual, as is the case with the work that will be shown at TCC. In other cases, it’s more spontaneous and documentary.

What about the skeptics who say that this kind of work won’t make a difference?
Well, sure. Maybe if I were out there with a microphone yelling I would do more. But that’s not me. Everybody has his own way. This is my way. Maybe I will affect fewer people than with a microphone. Maybe it’s less direct. But hopefully it’s like when you read a book or a poem. Maybe a little crumb of what the artist says will stick with you.

Ann Johnston-Schuster is a native of Southern California. She holds multiple master’s degrees in fine arts and education and has exhibited more than one hundred works in national and international exhibitions. She has taught art for nineteen years (thirteen years at the college level) and is currently a full-time assistant professor at Pierce College.

Ann Jonhston-Schuster, Shock and Awe, 2008

In your artist statement you write, “I endeavor to redefine personal vulnerability, not as a constraint but as a link to our humanity.” Can you expand on that?
The subjects in my portraits are not portrayed as weak. They are portrayed as people who have been victimized, but they don’t have the physiognomy of victims. They have personal integrity and defiance in the face of aggression. The intensity of the lines in my work reflects the intensity of the individuals portrayed.

Are your portraits representational or composites that reflect underlying themes?
They are both. It’s a blurry line between what my subjects are expressing and my own feelings that amplify what they are expressing. If I had to define the conceptual aspect, it would be “the personal becomes political.”

Are woodcuts your preferred method of printmaking?
I was drawn to woodcuts because I can carry around a piece of wood and do it anywhere. My imagery has a lot of lines, and the physicality of carving all of those lines is attractive. It’s really labor intensive.

Have you exhibited this work before? If so, what has the response been?
This will be the first time I have exhibited The Promise of a Plan. But I have exhibited the other three pieces. People mostly talk about my technique. The striated gouge marks remind people of 8mm film. The lines also create a perceived landscape effect. Most recently, people have mistaken these for digital prints.

How have your education and training influenced your approach to making art?
My professor at the University of Southern California, Ruth Wiseberg, was very into a traditional foundation. So that is important to me. Hopefully through form, compositional integrity and technical virtuosity I can engage viewers. Once they have made a connection with the subject, then, maybe, they will look at the title or will look at my statement and bring in the content.

How about viewer comments related to content?
My favorite is when people say that they have connected with an individual in a portrait. Rather than communicating some heavy message, my main goal is connection. There is content, because I’ve always been political and that bleeds into the art. But it’s not any kind of agenda where I want to manipulate people to think the way I do.

Some of the work in the Social Injustice show explores the concept of “bearing witness.” Does that theme resonate with you?
Yes, that’s why I’m drawn to the individuals in my portraits. They are all kind of frail, forgotten and exploited. So I’m bearing witness to that. Sometimes words fail me. It is difficult to express these ideas verbally and to be heard, which is what can make art so important. But I don’t want my art to become rhetoric. I want it to be, “This is my experience and maybe I can share it with you.” •

Coming soon: Associate editor Virginia Bunker's highlights of the artwork from this exhibition that we, unfortunately, did not have room to print in the January 2010  issue.