When W.E.B. Du Bois writes of double-consciousness (in the first chapter of The Souls of Black Folk), he is speaking of Black Americans’ simultaneous understanding of  (1) how they experience themselves and (2)  how many non-Black people perceive them. This drawing grows out of a recent experience of double-consciousness once-removed. The man in this drawing and I passed each other as we were both walking past the Rockridge Barney’s Burgers, and as I walked by I wondered to what degree the way he carried himself on this street–his expression, his attire, his gait–reflected his awareness of how other people might perceive him. How did other people perceive him, anyway? Did he appear to be one thing to Black people, something else to white people, and something entirely different to Asian-American, Latin-American, and Native-American passers by?

The icons running down the right side of the page represent my own thinking about these questions. What if–in the media, on the streets, and in the popular imagination–Black men were portrayed and understood not as violent and threatening but as peacemakers and protectors? Indeed, the latter is much closer to reality than the former. And our brothers and fathers, our grandfathers and uncles, our teachers and our friends all reflect this truth each day, in almost everything they do.

8-Rock

To the four men standing outside the Melrose Branch of the Oakland Public Library:

Even from where I was stopped at the traffic signal on Foothill, I could tell you were having a great time. From the expressions on your faces it looked like someone was telling a great joke or a hilarious story; and even though I couldn’t hear a thing you were saying, just your grins and your laughter made me smile.

Thanks,

8-Rock

If you spend a little time poking around this blog, you’ll notice that few of the colors I use in my (almost) daily drawings are actually “true to life.” This drawing is a notable exception, not in terms of the color of the skin, the jacket, or even the plain white t-shirt; but the glasses–the mauve-colored glasses are actually true to life, as are their purplish-lavender lenses. How could I not dedicate a drawing to the man in the pinkish and lavender shades?

8-Rock

Spotted chatting with a friend outside the Emeryville Office Depot. I was moved to draw him because the expression on his face seemed to suggest more trepidation and disinterest than enthusiasm and familiarity, and yet the tone of the conversation made it clear that the two men knew each other very well. I was also inspired by his awesome cheekbones.

8-Rock

This is another portrait inspired by the “Exposed” exhibition at SF MOMA. There’s a little bit of a story here. In a back corner of the exhibit, set away from easy view, there was a small alcove dedicated to the work of Robert Mapplethorpe. It included several of his most famous works, including some of the portraits of African American men that he made famous in his collection The Black Book. His portraits of African American men–mostly nudes–continue to spark controversy. If you’re familiar with any of these works, you may have noticed that–however beautiful his photos (and his models)–his portraits are simultaneously celebratory of and degrading to his African American subjects. The camera eye notices and even feasts on the beauty of their faces and bodies, but reveals nothing of the hearts and minds of the men behind the chiseled physiques.

This is not to say that I don’t like Mapplethorpe’s portraits of African American men. My feelings around these photos are more complex. When I look at photographs like the Mapplethorpe image than I re-edited for the background of this image, I know that I am complicit in supporting a body of work whose images many Black men experience as degrading, dehumanizing and hurtful. I have long since given away my copy of The Black Book, but whenever I encounter some of these images, I return to the question of how a photograph can exalt the physical beauty of its subject while at the same time appearing to disregard their personhood.

8-Rock

Yesterday I went to see “Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the Camera Since 1870,” an exhibit at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It was a wonderful exhibit. I found the oldest photographs the most moving, partly because most photographic depictions that we see of people before WWII are more formal shots. It was quite interesting to see images of 19th and early 20th-century Americans in more quiet and candid moments.

Today’s and tomorrow’s drawings are each inspired by men who I noticed at the exhibit. I was quite pleased to see other people of African descent in attendance, though the crowd could not be described as diverse, by any means . The featured photographs, on the other hand, were quite diverse, across race, class, and other categories. Kudos to SF MOMA for an extraordinary show. “Exposed” closes today.

8-Rock

I spotted the subject of this drawing in the huddle of shoppers gathered around the food bar at Whole Foods on Harrison St. Based on where he was looking, he was starting at either the macaroni and cheese or the green beans. From the expression on his face, it seemed as if he was giving both options some very serious consideration. In the end it boiled down to a choice between cheesy carb goodness or healthy green veggies, and the cheesy carb goodness won out (though I do believe I saw him lay a couple green beans in his takeout container, just to keep the macaroni some company).

8-Rock

Whoever said that Americans don’t like to read hasn’t spent a lot of time in Bay Area public libraries. Anyone who thinks that African Americans don’t read has never been to the public libraries in Oakland. While some folks are definitely there for the free internet, most people are browsing in the stacks. I saw the man in this drawing while I was walking through the fiction stacks at the main Oakland branch. For the background of this drawing, I pasted in and manipulated a painting of a bookshelf by the 18th century Italian artist Guiseppi Maria Cresti.

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This drawing was inspired by a Harlem Renaissance-era photograph of a group of young Black writers. The hairstyle, in particular, depicts the kind of  jazz age hairdo that so many stylish Black men were wearing in 1920s New York.

8-Rock