Raz
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Aug 11, 2002
- Messages
- 7,330
How To Explain Racism To The Blind is an enormous square photograph, large enough that its human subjects take on life-size proportions and eerie presence. It is an effect to make the viewer feel as if they were gazing through a window at time frozen still, watching a visceral tableau in silently approved voyeurism.
The photograph is of a black man in drab pants and a collared shirt, curled almost fetal on the rain-soaked asphalt as he tries to protect his vitals. He is thin and tall, unimposing. He appears to be Ghanian, though this cannot be judged with certainty. His face retains many shadows and his limbs are elongated and bony. His clothes are soaked through with rain. His blood is almost invisible amidst the darkness of his skin and the wet night, but can nonetheless be seen dispersing into puddles beneath and around him. The black man's face is distorted by fear and pain. His teeth are bared in an agonised grimace.
Above him stands a bald white man. Both men are thin. In this they are alike. Both men wear clothes that are drenched and which hug their bodies almost sensually, lending a homoerotic sheen to the image. The white man's teeth are bared in gritted fury. His muscles are tensed, his fists are balled. His skin is covered in tattoos borne of various levels of skill, most of them in black ink. His flesh is adorned in gothic font, swastikas, subjugated women and symbols. He adorns himself with many symbols. He wears a white singlet which is soaked so thoroughly that his nipples and the faded blur of his inked torso are visible through its cotton embrace. He wears acidwash jeans tucked into glistening wet leather boots. Red suspenders hang loose from the waist of his pants, one of them having come loose and snapping wildly in the air, ghostly motion which has defeated the camera's power to accurately record. One leg has been captured in the apex of a backwards arc, caught in the middle of a steel-capped kick.
The photograph has been printed directly onto canvas, and the canvas stretched onto interlocking wooden slats without any frame. The two men are posed in the middle of a street, but they have been brought into sharp focus and their setting is little but a vague patch of mismatched darkness and neon. The world around them could be anywhere. The wall on which the canvas is hung is a creamy color, and only slightly larger than the photograph itself. To the right of the photograph is a small cardboard tile which has been mounted at a precise angle. The tile bears the title of the piece and its price, though not the artist's name.
Standing before the canvas are five men and two women. The room is thin and long, and there is not room for more people. All of the viewers are white. All of them can afford to purchase this piece. All of them can afford to discuss its merits and debate the controversies it evokes. The gallery is filled with more white people waiting for their chance to see this piece, and to judge for themselves its merits and shortcomings.
Outside the gallery, a young black man sits against a nearby wall. He appears to be Koori, though this cannot be judged with certainty. He has been warned from approaching too close to the gallery itself, so he now chooses a building which lies abandoned at this time of night, but one which is close enough that he can sometimes profit from the gallery's patrons if they see him as they lift their gaze from their smartphones after blogging about the art they have seen and the passion it has aroused.
He has never seen How To Explain Racism To The Blind.
He has never been inside the gallery.
The photograph is of a black man in drab pants and a collared shirt, curled almost fetal on the rain-soaked asphalt as he tries to protect his vitals. He is thin and tall, unimposing. He appears to be Ghanian, though this cannot be judged with certainty. His face retains many shadows and his limbs are elongated and bony. His clothes are soaked through with rain. His blood is almost invisible amidst the darkness of his skin and the wet night, but can nonetheless be seen dispersing into puddles beneath and around him. The black man's face is distorted by fear and pain. His teeth are bared in an agonised grimace.
Above him stands a bald white man. Both men are thin. In this they are alike. Both men wear clothes that are drenched and which hug their bodies almost sensually, lending a homoerotic sheen to the image. The white man's teeth are bared in gritted fury. His muscles are tensed, his fists are balled. His skin is covered in tattoos borne of various levels of skill, most of them in black ink. His flesh is adorned in gothic font, swastikas, subjugated women and symbols. He adorns himself with many symbols. He wears a white singlet which is soaked so thoroughly that his nipples and the faded blur of his inked torso are visible through its cotton embrace. He wears acidwash jeans tucked into glistening wet leather boots. Red suspenders hang loose from the waist of his pants, one of them having come loose and snapping wildly in the air, ghostly motion which has defeated the camera's power to accurately record. One leg has been captured in the apex of a backwards arc, caught in the middle of a steel-capped kick.
The photograph has been printed directly onto canvas, and the canvas stretched onto interlocking wooden slats without any frame. The two men are posed in the middle of a street, but they have been brought into sharp focus and their setting is little but a vague patch of mismatched darkness and neon. The world around them could be anywhere. The wall on which the canvas is hung is a creamy color, and only slightly larger than the photograph itself. To the right of the photograph is a small cardboard tile which has been mounted at a precise angle. The tile bears the title of the piece and its price, though not the artist's name.
Standing before the canvas are five men and two women. The room is thin and long, and there is not room for more people. All of the viewers are white. All of them can afford to purchase this piece. All of them can afford to discuss its merits and debate the controversies it evokes. The gallery is filled with more white people waiting for their chance to see this piece, and to judge for themselves its merits and shortcomings.
Outside the gallery, a young black man sits against a nearby wall. He appears to be Koori, though this cannot be judged with certainty. He has been warned from approaching too close to the gallery itself, so he now chooses a building which lies abandoned at this time of night, but one which is close enough that he can sometimes profit from the gallery's patrons if they see him as they lift their gaze from their smartphones after blogging about the art they have seen and the passion it has aroused.
He has never seen How To Explain Racism To The Blind.
He has never been inside the gallery.
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