Note: This show closes Sunday, Feb. 26. Hurry.
The other day, I stepped into a place that was quite familiar to me. It felt comfortable, forgiving, consoling, almost like home. There was a faint smell of old cologne and cigars in the air, chased by Eckstine's "Jelly, Jelly" and "Jesus will fix it."
Standing among the portraits of black men in "Backbone: Dean Mitchell's Images of African-American Men," my nose started to itch with a sneeze at the memory of freshly cut grass and a smoking riding mower. I tasted too-buttery biscuits that melted in my mouth and greasy sausage I've never liked. Then there were the hospital beds, occupied by relatives and loved ones consumed by sickness.
Yes, these portraits felt joyously, eerily and sadly recognizable. There among the portraits I saw my brother, uncles, father, lovers and friends. The experience was nothing short of surreal.
The exhibit, with about 45 pieces, offers viewers an opportunity to see a side of a-- group of people they may not have allowed themselves to see before—the humanity of the black man.
The portraits "No Way Out" and "Boundary" introduce their audience to two imprisoned men. One man is in a jail cell, isolated from the world but also absent from it, as if he has withdrawn into himself. The other, emaciated and forlorn, peers out from between two constricting walls.
In other portraits, there are young men taking a break from band practice and a stern usher who takes his duties seriously. One can easily imagine familiar figures like "Proud Preacher" or "Gordon" at the football game on Saturday evening or standing in line at the supermarket. A work I found particularly encouraging was "Release Me," a painting of the artist's uncle who had cancer. The old, sick man lies on a bed covered with a quilt that is printed with the names of people who have died, along with causes like "AIDS, homeless" and "poverty." Yet, hidden among these sad truths is the word "peace," which seems to sooth the rest of the quilt.
As with any relationship, I've had my ups and downs with the black men in my life. Black men caused some of the most heart-wrenching disappointments I've had. But then there are the times when elation seems too small a word to describe the happiness they've brought me. To my pleasure, the formally trained, award-winning artist Dean Mitchell used a mixture of watercolors and oils to give spirit and a place in history to this human nature.
Sadly, I had a conversation not long ago with someone who told me, "Black people shouldn't need heroes to make themselves feel human," and I wondered what else can make you human other than heroic moments punctuated by less-than-glorious ones.
Mitchell says about the exhibit in his introduction: "[It] is intended to shine not a new light nor a romantic one, but one of truth. Throughout American history the black male image has been vilified, stereotyped and dehumanized through books and mass media. These (seemingly) average men are the backbone of our nation." That said, the average men in these portraits are nothing less than everyday heroes in their own right.
I will begrudgingly admit that I didn't set out as soon as I should have to this exhibit. And if you've yet to go, you're as guilty as I am of self-deprivation. Hurry to the Mississippi Museum of Art to "witness the America we should all know," as Mitchell puts it. The exhibit leaves the museum on Feb. 26.
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