Post Black Folk Art in America 1930-1980-2016

1930 1980 2016

Lonnie Holley (b. 1950), Untitled, 2015. Mixed media, 80 x 19 x 18 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett

Sam Doyle (1906-1985), Miss Lucky Food Stamp, 1983. Paint on metal sheets, 46 ½ x 49 in.

The Arient Family Collection 2

POST BLACK FOLK ART IN AMERICA 1930-1980-2016

JULY 15, 2016—JANUARY 8, 2017 INTUIT: THE CENTER FOR INTUITIVE AND OUTSIDER ART

CURATED BY FAHEEM MAJEED

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Thornton Dial (1928-2016), Royal Flag, c. 1997-98. Mixed media, 78 x 80 x 7 in.

William S. Arnett Collection of Souls Grown Deep Foundation 4

ESSAY BY FAHEEM MAJEED

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When first approached to curate this exhibition, I thought I was a peculiar choice, primarily because I felt I was an outsider to the world of outsider art. I hadn’t been indoctrinated into the history, politics, or preferences of the past 34 years since the Corcoran Gallery of Art’s Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 exhibition, the seminal exhibition curated by Jane Livingston and John Beardsley that launched the conversation around the terminology of Black Folk Art. Although I was intrigued by the challenge and the potential of curating an exhibition with such strong content and institutional investment, I was also clear that my form of curating is different from many other curators.

My approach and strategies stem from my socially engaged art practice in which curation and my practice merge and encompass the support and development of artists, audience engagement, and programming that positions the exhibition as a platform.

After accepting the role of guest curator, my first questions of Intuit’s board and exhibition committee members were: “What is a folk artist, and how do they differ from outsider artists?

Furthermore, what is an outsider artist?

What are the contemporary models of folk art?” Although informative, the responses to these questions differed from person to person. The one answer that was constant was “You know it when you see it!” I found this vagueness to be intriguing, especially because the act of categorizing this work was from the perspective of the collector rather than from the artists.

I wanted to take the opportunity to discuss these labels with others and so, over the course of my year of research, I spoke with various artists,

collectors, collections, curators, gallerists and museum directors about the history of this genre of work, current events, terminology and institutional politics. To understand the inception of the terminology and the politics, you must first reflect on the original Black Folk Art in America exhibition.

museums were dominated by white Eurocentric imagery and artists, creating a huge void in the exhibiting of black imagery and artwork produced by black artists. Livingston wanted to tap into Washington’s unengaged demographic.

Appointed the Corcoran Gallery of Art’s associate director and chief curator in 1975, Livingston had recently been inspired by an introduction to a number of southern black artists and makers who were producing numerous bodies of work out of cast off and readily accessible materials (wood, tin, stone, fabric, mud, glass, etc.). This work often came out of a need for religious evangelization, adornment of the home, or documenting the artists’ life experiences and communities. In 1982, she set out to tap into this genre of art—one that had not been sufficiently explored within the museum world. In a unique and unusual proposition, Livingston and co-curator John Beardsley stepped into uncharted museum territory to produce a fully expanded exhibition that showcased a broad selection of these artists hailing mainly from the Southern and Midwestern regions of America.

It was the first exhibition of its kind at the Corcoran Gallery of Art.

In 1980, the U.S. Census Bureau estimated that Blacks accounted for 70% of Washington, D.C.,’s residents.

A recent transplant to the city, curator Jane Livingston found it peculiar that museums weren’t attempting to be more effective in drawing in the surrounding African American population. At the time, many American

As the exhibition traveled to other cities, its impact and popularity could not be ignored. Unexpectedly, it became a catalyst for conversation and debate about museum diversity, black representation and the institutional marginalization of black artists. In many cases, the works included in the show were not of interest to many museums and resided

Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980, Field Museum of Natural History exhibition advertisement, 1984.

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in the homes and collections of the communities surrounding the artists and the predominately white collectors and gallerists that would travel to visit them. Similar to the impact on the lives of these collectors, the show had a profound impact on the art world and drew attention to the amazing work being produced by a genre of artists that were considered insignificant by the art museum and academic world. It was this dialogue and the publicly identified gap that played a significant role in the founding of Intuit. When the exhibition traveled to Chicago and opened its doors at the Field Museum of Natural History (1984), it galvanized a group of Chicago collectors and gallerists, who ultimately formed an organization whose mission was to support and showcase intuitive and outsider artists. Similar to the variety of artists exhibited, the collectors and gallerists were also varied in their backgrounds, and many were unaware of each other’s passion for collecting this genre of art until the Field Museum’s opening of the exhibition.

In addition to revisiting the original exhibition, I wanted to use this show as a platform to discuss the opportunities, themes and issues I noted from my research and from conversations about the original exhibition and conversations about this genre of work. One of the opportunities I identified was the inclusion and representation of women in the genre. In scouring the many catalogues and publications, I found strikingly few examples of black women artists that self-identified or were categorized in this genre of art making. The women who were high-

lighted were usually quilt makers with the most frequent example being the Gees Bend Quilt Makers. While quilt making has an important place in this exhibition, I wanted to highlight women who were exploring other mediums as well. The women included in this exhibition navigated the same systemic racism and societal challenges as their male counterparts with the additional challenge of living and producing in patriarchal communities. Their voices come through a diversity of materials, from Juanita Rogers’ mud paintings and Bessie Harvey’s root sculpture to Nellie Mae Rowe’s gum sculpture and Sister Gertrude Morgan’s evangelical painting and text.

Clementine Hunter’s artwork provides an example of the layering of challenges facing women artists of color. Her work consists of religious themes, depictions of her dreams and memories of her life on the Melrose Plantation. She conspired with faux French writer and art critic François Mignon to create a national groundswell of interest about her artwork during a time when she wasn’t even allowed entrance to many of the spaces where her artwork was on exhibition.

In my discussions with numerous collectors, the idea of the “Authentic Experience” was presented as a motivation for collecting the artist’s work…meaning the artwork was created by an individual that was not aware of a larger art market other than then their immediate community.

In reflecting on the world we live in today, where there are significant advancements in technology and an exponential increase in access to information and culture, I wondered: Does such a place still exist? Several of my interviewees mentioned they had observed a growing interest in artwork produced by the incarcerated and the special needs communities.

The inclusion of artists Wesley Willis, Tarik Echols, Arkee Chaney and Inez Walker help to foster a dialogue about the art world’s interest in collecting in these two spaces and the impact of access on how and why collectors value “disconnected artists.”

Wesley Willis was a self-taught draftsman who spent a lot of time drawing Chicago’s cityscape and highways. Despite his cognitive delays and schizophrenia, he was able to produce and sell his own artwork and amass a huge following through both his artwork and as the quirky lead of the punk rock band, the Wesley Willis Fiasco.

After being convicted of negligent homicide in the late 1960s of one many considered an abusive man, Inez Walker began drawing portraits of her fellow inmates. All of her early work was discovered and purchased by her English teacher at the prison.

After release she went on to have a thriving art career.

Arkee Chaney (b. 1944), Governmental Premeditated Murder, n.d. Ceramic, 10 ½ x 5 x 7 in.

Collection of Patric McCoy 7

A common thread among many of these artists is that at some point they found a person who championed and defended the value of their artistic expression, allowing them to convert their passion into a career.

Thornton Dial, Sr., and Lonnie Holley are two examples of brilliant artists whose art practices and success are tethered to collector and long-time friend William “Bill” Arnett. Through their relationship with Bill and his family, both artists gained a great amount of access and knowledge of the inner workings of the broader art world and marketplace.

As a child, Holley was an orphan living in abject poverty. In conversation, he said he felt he had “stole the knowledge,” meaning that opportunities for advancement weren’t readily available in his young life, so, when he came across a glint of anything that had a hint of value or possibility, he would grab onto it and incorporate it into his personal and artistic development. These possibilities include materials, sounds, relationships and conceptual ideas. Long-time friend Matt Arnett said about Holley’s art, “When looking and listening to Lonnie’s work, it feels like nothing you’ve ever heard or seen, because it is everything that you’ve heard and seen.”

Similarly, Thornton Dial’s work feels voluminous and relentlessly non-conforming. Dial’s life, career and artwork represent the expansiveness and complexity of the “black folk art genre.” Although he was not a part of the original exhibition, his life and work have strong ties to the numerous

artists included in the show. Prior to 1987, when he met Bill Arnett, he had worked a number of labor-related jobs, including blacksmith, carpenter, welder, house painter and handyman.

A master of unconventional materials, he tapped into those skills to create his art forms. Embedded in all of his complex forms were coded messages that reflected his story, the plight of his community and the unjust treatment of African Americans. As he gained more notoriety and success, he began to learn the language of the broader art world and feel more comfortable speaking publicly about the coded messages in his work.

Like Dial, the majority of the artists included in the original exhibition started producing their artwork later in life, came from impoverished communities, and originally created their art for personal gratification, as therapy, or for evangelical purposes. They achieved recognition late in their lives because at a younger age they didn’t have time or space to create things

that didn’t put food on the table.

The additional artists I selected for the revisited exhibition are more diverse in their ages, backgrounds and artistic origins.

A great example is Ronald Lockett, who was a mentee and cousin to Thornton Dial, Sr. He, too, was born into an impoverished community but came to his art at a much earlier stage of life. In great part due to the mentorship and the example of Dial, Lockett was aware at a young age of the potential of producing art as a career. After being diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, his work shifted from empathetic thoughts of violence and its victims around the world to the contemplation of his mortality.

Founded in 1991, Intuit’s mission is to celebrate the power of outsider art.

Its founders were comprised of collectors and gallerists. One of the more fascinating aspect of my research has been spending time with the collectors and supporters

Wesley Willis (1963-2003), Wrigley Field, 1993. Marker on poster board, 28 x 41 in.

The Arient Family Collection 8

of the artists and their work. I have found the collectors to be passionate, die-hard advocates for the legacies of the artists. Many of the collectors not only collect the work but also travel great distances to spend time with the artists. The artwork often functions as a memento of a personal experience.

Jim and Beth Arient are long-time collectors of this genre of artwork and spent the majority of their family vacations traveling around the country visiting reclusive artists in their hardto-reach homes. The Arients became close with many and even regarded some of the artists as extended family.

This type of complex relationship was something that was new and unfamiliar to me as an artist who also has collectors. The complexity of these relationships is captured in the work of James “Son Ford” Thomas’ three untitled skull pieces and Grey Skull with Beard. These four skulls’ transition from the incorporation of human teeth to rocks, dentures and false teeth are a product of the exchange between Thomas and collector Jim Arient.

Arient, a dentist, was concerned about the health risk of using actual human teeth in a time when the world was fearful and uncertain of how HIV was being transmitted, and he advised and negotiated with Thomas, providing false teeth as art supplies.

As a maker, I found it extremely challenging to narrow the list of artists that identify as folk artists. As a curator who entered this genre of art through the aesthetics of Chicago artists like David Philpot, Mr. Imagination and Eddie Harris, the power of their art preceded any classification as an outsider or folk artist. As the

former executive director and curator of the South Side Community Art Center, a Chicago arts non-profit founded in 1941 to support black artists, I fell in love with these artists’ work.

There were numerous other living artists with whom I have curated and collaborated in the past and wanted to include in the show. I felt their work and biographical history were in conversation with many of the ideas associated with the exhibition and this genre of art production. However, after discussing their inclusion in the show, many felt that the term Folk Art did not accurately represent their work.

I decided to omit a number of works and artists per their request because, as a fellow artist, I value their voice and the agency of an artist to own the language and terminology used to describe their work.

“Post Black,” a term coined in 2001 by curator Thelma Golden and artist Glenn Ligon, calls attention to the difference between being labeled and self-identifying. The terminology was in response to art critics’ and historians’ bastardization and marginalized use of the word “Black” as a descriptor of African Americans’ cultural production and contribution. As I listened to individuals discussing the show and the terminology associated with outsider art, I started to see many similarities to how the term Black Art has been used in the art canon to promote, marginalize and encumber African American artists. Consider Lonnie Holley’s Untitled (Shovel and Stone) The piece itself is a minimalist expression of labor and struggle. The arrangement is reminiscent of Richard Serra’s Prop series and conceptually references Marcel Duchamp’s Readymades. The stone perfectly sits on

the head of the shovel and balances on a pivot point similar to Alexander Calder’s mobiles. I wasn’t expecting this type of work when I visited his Atlanta work space. I now realize that labeling can bias expectations and force the viewer’s perspective into a narrow description of what an outsider or folk artist is. Similar to the feedback I received when speaking with other artists I know, I realized that, through his actions and art, Holley had self-identified with numerous genres and modes of cultural production. His work is truly brilliant and complex. It will forever be connected to the history of Black folk art, but it is also connected to numerous other categories.

Thirty-four years later, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 is still referred to as a seminal exhibition in the history of American Folk, Self-Taught, Intuitive, Outsider or Vernacular art. Curating Post Black Folk Art in America, 1930-19802016 as part of Intuit’s 25th anniversary gives me an interesting and challenging opportunity to revisit many of the issues that surrounded the original exhibition, incorporate additional artists whose work is in dialogue with the original show, build a platform to discuss the dynamics of engaging underrepresented communities, and explore the power dynamics of terminology. In addition to showcasing numerous brilliant artists’ works, my hope is the exhibition and its programing inspire new audiences and thoughtfully challenge and support the constellation of stakeholders that have been invested in this genre of art production. 

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Roy Ferdinand (1959-2004), Untitled, n.d. Colored pencil and marker. 22 x 18 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth 10

Clementine Hunter (1886-1988), Caring for Elderly Man, c. late 1960s. Oil on canvas panel, 13 ¾ x 25 ¾ in.

Collection of Scott H. Lang

Sister Gertrude Morgan (1900-1980), Lazarus Come Forth, 1965-1975. Ink and acrylic on paper, 13 x 25 ¼ in.

Collection of Susann Craig 11

Juanita Rogers (1934-1985), Untitled, ca. 1980. Watercolor and pencil on paper, 12 x 9 in.

Collection of Susann Craig 12

Ronald Lockett (1965-1998), Rebirth, 1987. Wire, nails and paint on Masonite, 24 x 30 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett 13

Steven Ashby (1904-1980), Untitled (Woman in Front of Fireplace), n.d. Mixed media, 5 ½ x 7 ¼ x 7 ¼ in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth 14

Elijah Pierce (1892-1984), Tiger, 1981. Carved and painted wood, 8 ¾ x 15 ¼ x 1 ¾ in.

Collection of Scott H. Lang 15

Martha Jane Pettway (1893-2005), Blocks and Stripes Work- Clothes Quilt, 1940s. Cotton, denim and corduroy, 67 x 72 in.

William S. Arnett Collection of Souls Grown Deep Foundation 16

William Hawkins (1895-1990), 5 Horses, n.d. Enamel on board, 51 x 73 x 2 ½ in.

Collection of Lael and Eugenie Johnson 17

Interviews included: Patric McCoy, founder, Diasporal Rhythms Joel Hall, founder, Joel Hall Dancers Lynne Cooke, senior curator, special projects in modern art, National Gallery of Art Leslie Umberger, curator of folk and self-taught art, Smithsonian American Art Museum Renwick Gallery Katherine Jentleson, Merrie and Dan Boone curator of folk and self-taught art, High Museum Cleo Wilson, founder and board member, Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Jan Petry, founder and board member, Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Susann Craig, founder and board member, Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Beth and James Arient, collectors Jane Livingston, lead curator, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 John Beardsley, director of garden and landscape studies, Dumbarton Oaks, and co-curator, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 William Arnett, founder, Souls Grown Deep and Tinwood Books Laura Bickford, exhibitions and special projects manager, Souls Grown Deep Matt Arnett, founder, Grocery on Home Bob Roth, founder and board member, Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Hamza Walker, curator

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INTERVIEWS

In preparation for the exhibition I interviewed numerous collectors, curators and artists I felt could help me better understand the genres of folk and outsider art. These conversations were instrumental in honing my eye to what makes this genre of art production unique but also gave me a solid introduction to the politics and historical context.

The following section are snippets of my conversations that mean to offer a record of thoughts and exchanges that took place over the past year in preparation for Post Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980-2016. These interviews represent a small sampling of individuals who have invested a great deal of time understanding and supporting outsider art and folk art.

INTERVIEW WITH JANE LIVINGSTON Faheem Majeed: Why Black Folk Art? What were the factors that inspired you to curate Black Folk Art in America?

JL: The thing to understand is the sensibility we had. Even though [Black Folk Art] opened in 1982, we’re really talking the language of the ’60s and ’70s…before the more intelligent and enlightened ideas of what to call… this sort of outside or vernacular or self-taught [art].

I was the curator of 20th century art at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art from 1968 to 1975, at a time that was exciting, the late ‘60s and ‘70s, and did three exhibitions that were critical to my understanding.

One was called American Sculpture of the Sixties, and I met everybody: Claes Oldenburg, Tony Smith. Robert Rauschenberg, Robert Smithson and John Chamberlain. I was also the primary partner of Maurice Tuchman in Art and Technology, which was about stretching boundaries and bringing artists to California to work in the aerospace Industry, [with] a lot of interesting people from Robert Irwin to James Turrell to James Lee

Byars. Then in 1971, I did the first retrospective of Bruce Nauman for the Whitney Museum in New York. So then I come to Washington in 1975, as the chief curator of the Corcoran, and the Corcoran was an independent museum in a big official museum city. But the first thing that really struck me was that none of the museums were doing anything about the 70% of the population, which was African-American.

I just didn’t get it. I didn’t understand that. There were two things I thought would be good for the Corcoran. One would be to do something that other museums weren’t doing, because [the Corcoran] had a sort of identity problem. So we got into, for the first time, really collecting and showing photography. And I thought, we have a black audience here, and we need to do something about that. So I did exhibitions on that basis.

But the more important thing I realized when I came to the Corcoran was…the Corcoran had a biennial, kind of like a Whitney Biennial, which was mostly really well known in the South, but it had been going on for years. It was a show with starts and stops, and artists from all over the country would be shown, but it seemed to be best known in the Southeastern states. The Corcoran at that time was…a place to show if you were an aspiring living artist. So I got a lot of invitations to jury shows and do talks at art schools and museums all across the South. I went everywhere; I just wanted to get to know what was going on and see the places.

I juried a show at the New Orleans Museum [of Art], and I went to towns and cities from LaGrange to Corpus Christi to Tuscaloosa to Miami.

I always wanted to get to know the artists. And the artists in places like Atlanta and New Orleans were talking about artists that weren’t known… artists like Jim Roche and Bill Dunlap and James Surls were talking about artists like Jesse Aaron in Florida, and I heard about Sister Gertrude Morgan from James Harithas, who was a museum director in Houston.

I went to Sister Gertrude, got to know her, visited David Butler, and I began to think, “What the hell! These are the most interesting artists that I’m seeing anywhere. You know? They’re just so much more powerful.” And, of course, I knew Howard Finster. But, the more I traveled in the South, I began to get the feeling that there was something going on that [these] artists were talking about, and that’s how this whole thing started.

[Co-curator] John Beardsley was 10 years younger than me, and he was only in his early twenties. He was an intern at the Hirshhorn Museum, and he had just organized a show called Earthworks. I thought he was so bright and interesting. And I said, “John, would you like to work on this with me, and I need someone to drive me around the South.” So that’s what happened…that’s how it happened.

We did the whole thing in about 18 months, and it was almost like there was some divine power leading us from one thing to another.

Later on there were people I felt terrible about leaving out. We certainly knew about Clementine Hunter, and I saw a lot of Clementine Hunter’s work, but the reason she wasn’t in the show was that a lot of the work I was

Left: Mr. Imagination (Gregory Warmack) (1948-2012), Women of Somalia, circa 1995. Bottle caps, whisk brooms, wood putty, paint, paint brushes, buttons, shells, 90 x 12 x 10 in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson.

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seeing were fakes, and I wasn’t sure about how to select. The other artists that I would have definitely put in the show, that I just didn’t know about, was Josephus Farmer, [who] I didn’t see until later. The other one that we learned about at the last minute was Jimmy Lee Sudduth, and it was too late because he would have definitely been included.

collecting, studying and exhibiting outsider, self-taught, folk, vernacular, autodidactic art, etc. It seems like a relatively new phenomenon (last 40-50 years). In your opinion, what are some of the factors that have influenced this interest?

LC: You could say it’s cyclical.

FM: Ah!

Two people who were really important were artist Roger Brown in Chicago and Michael Hall at Cranbrook [Academy of Art in Michigan], who had a great collection of black and white folk artists. Leo Rabkin was a collector in New York, and he was the one that turned us onto Sam Doyle. Bert Hemphill had a town house in New York with his collection, which was really just as much about anonymous American folk art, but he was very helpful just in understanding the sensibility of the work. We followed every lead and visited people, and we drove, God knows where, in the South and got lost, and had an incredible experience and…that was it.

INTERVIEW WITH LYNNE COOKE FM: In your essay “Orthodoxies Undermined,” you quote American art historian James Lawrence as describing the role of the outsider artist in the modern art museum as akin to that played by the scapegoat, a figure crucial to the maintenance of socio-cultural stability and continuity.

Like the proverbial scapegoat, outsider artist, he contends, offers a key to “protecting a threatened and deceptively harmonious order.” Many museums have invested great resources in

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LC: Certainly some people would. As I look back at this phenomenon in the U.S., it seems there are three moments in the 20th century when the exchange is at its most dynamic. The first would be from the mid-’20s into the Second World War, around 1943. It’s well known that American vanguard artists, like [Alexander] Calder or [Marsden] Hartley, started looking at 19th century classic American folk art as the country became more isolationist in the later ’20s and ’30s. There was a growing preoccupation with an American identity, a search for what distinguished American from European culture, and, therefore, with what would be a distinctively American art.

It was argued that what was called folk art could provide a usable past from which to craft this identity.

That’s kind of the classic account, but I don’t think it’s the full story. A preoccupation with indigenous folk art is pervasive in many European countries and beyond, including Japan at this time: it’s connected to burgeoning nativist and nationalist impulses. It leads in turn to a new found interest in contemporary selftaught artists. Soon interest moves away from the historic material—objects like trade signs, weathervanes and

limner portraits—to people making art who are not academically trained, who might be thought of as popular or amateur painters. It turns out that art institutions, and the Museum of Modern Art, above all, are very open to this trend: MoMA’s director, Alfred Barr, was eager both to include this work in exhibitions and make it a cornerstone of MoMA’s collection. For him, it constitutes a central narrative within modernism. His exploratory approach includes also a series of exhibitions devoted to the origins of modernism, in various forms of what were then called Primitive art, Mesoamerican, African and Native American art along with rock painting.

In terms of the recent past he locates the source of this strand, which he calls Modern Primitivism, and which includes self-taught, visionary and naïve art, in the work of Henri Rousseau.

He, therefore, puts Americans and Europeans artists and, particularly, French artists (perhaps because he has more contacts there, and he knows that scene better) together in a gallery devoted to Modern Primitives. That is, their work occupies the first in a sequence of galleries dedicated to the museum’s collection that traces his unfolding history of modern art. Also around that time, in 1937 to be precise, the first show devoted to the work of an African American artist— William Edmondson—which, not incidentally, is the first solo show devoted to a self-taught artist, takes place. It’s followed the next year, 1938, by this big show, Masters of Popular Painting, that introduces an American audience to this phenomenon, which, for Barr, is unquestionably an international phenomenon: The show

includes such local artists as John Kane and Horace Pippin, alongside historic figures like Edward Hicks and Europeans like Rousseau, [Camille] Bombois, and Seraphine Louis. At MoMA, this efflorescence dies out with the growing attention to war programming and with Barr’s demotion from his position as director.

Then I think an interest in self-taught art, albeit of a very different kind, comes back in the late ’60s with the counterculture, in part, and with a move away from a New York-centric art world, to forms of regionalist expression and, more broadly, in response to the rise of feminism, gay rights, the Black Art Movement and the Civil Rights movement. As people start to think about different values and embrace different perspectives…

FM: …the work comes with it?

LC: Yes. So in Chicago, very obviously, [this happens] with the Imagists. More encompassing visions that embrace forms of vernacular and ethnographic art and crafts are partly coming out of the teachings at the School of the Art Institute, which put on an even plane artifacts found in the Field Museum of Natural History, objects from the flea market and work with a blue-chip art history lineage. Students are encouraged to look at all of it. But I think it’s also related to the fact that the Imagists are not trying to get validation from New York. Their work is not a response to Pop; they’re interested in something else. It’s not reactive; it’s actually proactive. They find things of great interest within Chicago—selftaught artists, like Joseph Yoakum, Pauline Simon and Lee Godie, are all

working there, right? It’s phenomenal.

What’s also key is that Chicago has a deep investment on the part of collectors, galleries and museums in surrealist traditions: Even in the post-war era it never disavowed surrealism. And the Imagists, like the first generation of post-war Chicago artists, the Monster Roster people, build upon the legacies of surrealism; whereas in the late ’40s in New York and thereafter, abstraction gains the upper hand.

Chicago offers a receptive climate not only for Yoakum and Godie but later for Henry Darger’s work…the number [of Chicago self-taught artists] whose work emerged in those years is amazing. When [Imagists] Jim Nutt and Gladys Nilsson go to Sacramento, by chance they find the work of Martín Ramírez and Perley Wentworth. This group of artists, which also includes Roger Brown, Christina Ramberg and Barbara Rossi, collects this work and feels an affinity with it. And they’re inspired by the example the autodidacts offer of an independent pursuit, a singular vision: It’s one of the driving forces behind their practices.

In those same years, there begins to be widespread public recognition that the South has produced an extraordinary visual culture, much of it made by African Americans, and much of it created by artists with no formal training. In the late ’70s there was a decisive turn to Southern vernacular visual culture.

INTERVIEW WITH CLEO WILSON FM: Can you describe the experience of Black Folk Art in America, and its impact on your time with Intuit?

CW: The first time I went to see the show, it was because [the Field Museum] had that banner on the front with that coiled snake on it, that Bill Traylor banner. It was hanging on the whole front of the museum, and it said “BLACK FOLK ART IN AMERICA,” so I think, “I’m going to go see this,” and it was just that it said “black” and it had that cool snake. This was ’84. I walk into the space and stepped into the entryway without reading anything, and there was this Coke board—obviously a metal Coca-Cola sign that you can see the raised words through it—but it had been painted over, and it was this guy painted on there, holding a conch shell on his head.

FM: Sam Doyle?

CW: Uh-Huh. And it said Dr. Buzz, and I looked at it and said, “What the hell is this?” So I step back out and thought, “maybe I’m in the wrong place.”

FM and CW: laughing CW: I decided to read the didactics and all the introduction about what the show was about, and then went back in, and it was blowing my mind.

I mean: I understood this. The minute I started seeing things, it spoke to me. I knew it. It wasn’t tricky, it didn’t assume you knew something, it was so accessible, and it just blew me away. They had James Hampton’s

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throne, the [Nellie Mae Rowe) purple pig bubble gum piece. Everything was just so exciting. I loved it…I just loved it. A week passes, and I decide to go see it again. I went and walked through—I look at it and feel it.

Next I went to the yellow pages. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to find black folk art, but I was looking for folk art. I came across a gallery in Evanston, and it said folk art, American folk art, so I thought that what I was going to see [was the same kind of art]. And then I walked in there, and it was those square cows and the babies with really big heads, and I thought, “This is not it.” So I assumed it was a one-off, that I would never see it again; I saw the show twice, and that was it. I had no idea I could visit dealers to ask about it; it was just here, and it was gone.

Then in ’85 I met Bob Roth, and we started dating, and we didn’t seem to have anything in common…

FM and CW: laughing CW:…and somehow or another we got to talking about that show. And he said he had seen the show, and asked had I seen that show, and I screamed, “I saw it twice.” We started talking about it, and then he introduced me to Carl Hammer and Ann Nathan and Phyllis Kind who were carrying these artists. Ann was the person that was really pushing that we needed an organization, and she was the person who brought together Roger Brown and Don Baum and some of the other players. There was a meeting, and dealers gave us a list of names that we invited to come to that meeting.

By then it’s 1991, and we said, if

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you’re interested in having a discussion about this, come on down…and 80 people showed up, and we never expected that to happen. That was the genesis of Intuit. It turns out that almost everybody from the early days had seen that show, and it played a similar role for so many people.

FM: Why was I asked to curate this show?

CW: Because I was the one that brought your name to Intuit. Because we have wrestled with this diversity thing. You would think with an African-American founder and an African-American executive director we wouldn’t have these issues. But we do, because the collectors of this art are probably 99% white. I thought having you curate this show would do exactly what we’re doing right now, because I saw what you do with your community involvement, and I figured the programing was going to be as important as the exhibition. Whenever we do a show, they’re like, “But it was a black artist, and no black people came!” That’s not the way it should be.

FM: Right, that’s not how it works.

What’s interesting is that 34 years ago this show came out of that same thing. And 34 years later I’m having the same conversation at Intuit, I’m having the conversation at the [Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago], I’m having the conversation at the Art Institute [of Chicago]...the same conversation.

CW: I hope you have a killer essay that goes into all of these issues.

FM: I hope so, too. The title of my essay is going to be something like, “Outsider to the Outsider,” because I feel like I’m coming in with a fresh set of eyes.

CW: Yeah, outside of what?

FM: Yeah, exactly. So the notion “outsider” is loaded with colonialism, and I’m not going to get too far into that…but it is colonialism.

CW: But this passion you’re talking about among these collectors is because they themselves are all outsiders.

FM: Yes, exactly! That’s what it is, and it’s because they’re not quite framing it appropriately. It’s like founder’s syndrome; it’s that sense of discovery and advocating, and “I’m going to be the voice of the marginalized.” And I do think, on the one hand, you definitely need that, you need champions, you need guides, and there’s a balance to it. Kind of like what happens in corporate America; black people don’t champion up-and-coming black people, because often times they’re not in positions of power. So sometimes you need that white male to say, “You know what? I’m going to step out of what’s comfortable, and what’s not me, and I realize in order to do that I have to be real conscious that I am going to advocate for this talented black woman or this black man.” It’s because we are not in those positions of authority. So just acknowledge what it is and really think about our bodies in space and power dynamics. So that’s why I’m trying to create—a [safe] space.

INTERVIEW WITH LESLIE UMBERGER FM: I observed that, depending on the person, relationship to the art work and artist, people have mixed responses to the use of the term black folk art. Black Folk art is not simply folk art made by black folks. Can you speak to the use of this terms and conflicts associated with it?

LU: Yes, so there are different things.

There’s the historical moment [when] that term appears. And I have always given [Jane Livingston and John Beardsley] credit for [dealing with] not really knowing how to parse [this art] at that time. They saw that there was something happening that was really interesting. It doesn’t get characterized precisely right at that moment, and, unfortunately, that sets things in a strange direction. But they were pioneering.

When I use the term folk art, I try to be very specific with it—meaning I use it to describe an art that stems from a tradition or an artisanship, which may be a professional, familial, communal, cultural or tribal tradition.

The tribal things sort out a little differently, but, for me, things with those kind of roots are what constitute a folk art. So, for example, you could talk about sea grass or sweet grass baskets. This is a folk art wherein the artistry is tied to a person’s innovation— but the foundation of the craft is in this handed-down tradition. And, in that way, it is rooted in the folkways of that culture and that community.

So, in a case like that you’re not randomly plucking the term “folk art” out of thin air and using it to, in a filtered way, actually speak about

class. That’s what I think [we] need to avoid. That’s when we really depart from any genuine understanding.

With that particular show, I would say they didn’t have any “folk art” in it.

They really had African-American selftaught art. What that is, to me, is best described as spectrum with tradition and innovation sitting at opposite poles. Can you find the folk roots in what William Edmondson was creating Absolutely. But, at what point does he veer off that road and crossover into personal exploration, where he is so far into his own exploration that the tradition is a footnote? And it’s not an unimportant one—its foundational, and it’s what he’s pulling on and is what makes [his work] rich, because he’s pulling from the tradition of everything that he ever knew and from the ways he learned. Which was from the professions and skill-based jobs that were available to his people. But his artistry moved beyond that, he explored and really learned that part all on his own. So [the terminology] is heavily loaded, because it is really referencing his social position. And you can’t separate him from that, but he is also no longer simply doing this craft for sale or executing a skill for a salary: He has become a man with a vision. To your point, “Black Folk Art” isn’t about the folks, but, instead, it is a term that references the exhibition. After that show, the term kind of took on a life of its own.

the artworks and artists in the show are perceived. To your point, “Black Folk Art” isn’t folk art, but, instead, it was a title for the exhibition and, after the show, became a term or category.

LU: The good part about that is they saw this great thing that was happening. The bad thing was that they brought their own prejudice to it, and perhaps unintentionally, foregrounded lack of education and poverty. Kind of like saying, “this artist is brilliant in spite of all of this,” when instead they needed to look at it from the other end. They approached it through the lens of class and disenfranchisement instead of positioning the art, clearly, as a radical first step towards freedom of identity following a long and troubled history. 

Acknowledgements: I thank everyone for their time and insight on this exhibition. Additional thanks to Deb Kerr, Cleo Wilson, Jan Petry, Alison Amick, Christina Stavros, Joel Javier, Leonard Cicero, Laura Bickford, Lashana Jackson, Kate Schlachter, Paul S. Benjamin and the entire staff, for without their work and support, the show would not have been possible.

FM: Yes, it’s the putting together of those words that invokes something.

Any one of those words alone—black, folk, art—isn’t a problem. It is, when the words with their historical roots clash together and set a tone for how

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James “Son Ford� Thomas (1926-1993), Group of arworks, c. 1988-1992. Sundried clay, aluminum foil, green marble eyes, pebbles dentures and human teeth, Various sizes.

The Arient Family Collection

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Post Black Folk Art in America 1930-1980-2016 Jesse Aaron (1887-1979) Alligator, 1978 Root branch with applied metal teeth and glass eyes 30 x 9 x 6 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Jesse Aaron (1887-1979) Untitled (Deer), n.d.

Wood, leather, bone and glass eyes 18 x 7 x 5 in.

Jan Petry Collection Steven Ashby (1904-1980) Untitled (They Took Them for Everything), 1963 Paint and fabric on carved wood 12 x 3 ½ x 11 ½ in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Steven Ashby (1904-1980) Untitled (Kneeling Female Form), c. 1970 Paint and mixed media on carved wood 8 x 5 x ¼ in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Steven Ashby (1904-1980) Cat Head, 1970s Painted wood and mixed media 12 ½ x 6 x 7/8 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

Hawkins Bolden (1914-2005) Untitled, late 1980s Chair, stuffed blue jeans, pan and wire 37 x 20 x 26 in.

Collection of Keith Sadler

William Dawson (1901-1990) House, early 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 8 ½ x 11 in.

Collection of Susann Craig

David Butler (1898-1997) Horse and Rider, 1983 Enamel paint on tin 20 x 23 in.

David Csicsko/David Syrek Collection

William Dawson (1901-1990) Black Horse, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 3 ¾ x 6 x 1 in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

David Butler (1898-1997) Mermaid, 1983 Enamel paint on tin 20 x 22 in.

David Csicsko/David Syrek Collection David Butler (1898-1997) Flying Elephant Whirligig, n.d.

Mixed media 27 x 20 x 27 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Arkee Chaney (b. 1944) Untitled, 2012 Acrylic and color varnish on paper 18 x 24 in.

Prison + Neighborhood Arts Project

William Dawson (1901-1990) Brown Dog, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 1 x 2 ½ x ¾ in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 William Dawson (1901-1990) Gorilla, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 10 x 5 ½ x 3 in.

Collection of Susann Craig

Arkee Chaney (b. 1944) Governmental Premeditated Murder, n.d.

Ceramic 10 ½ x 5 x 7 in.

Collection of Patric McCoy

William Dawson (1901-1990) Totem (with one house and three heads), 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 17 ½ x 3 ½ x 2 ½ in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

Steven Ashby (1904-1980) Untitled (Hunter and Victim), n.d.

Mixed media 13 x 8 ½ x 2 in. / 12 ½ x 9 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth

Tracy Crump (b. 1974) Ramalt, c. 2000 Ink and graphite on paper 30 x 22 ½ in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson

William Dawson (1901-1990) Man with Striped Shirt, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 10 x 4 x 2 in.

Collection of Susann Craig

Steven Ashby (1904-1980) Untitled (Woman in Front of Fireplace), n.d.

Mixed media 5 ½ x 7 ¼ x 7 ¼ in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth

Ulysses Davis (1914-1990) Untitled, n.d.

Carved wood and paint 18 x 7 x 5 in.

Jan Petry Collection: Promised Gift to Intuit in Honor of Cleo Wilson

William Dawson (1901-1990) Man in White Hat and Yellow Shirt, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 9 ½ x 2 ¾ x 1 ¾ in.

Collection of Susann Craig

Louisiana P. Bendolph (b. 1960) Going Home, 2005 Aquatint 46 x 43 x 2 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett Hawkins Bolden (1914-2005) Untitled, late 1980s Pots and pans, garbage can lid, shoe sole, tubing, hose, and wire on wooden cross 75 x 35 x 12 in.

Collection of Keith Sadler

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William Dawson (1901-1990) Flower Bud with Bird, early 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 11 x 8 ½ in Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Horse in Fence, early 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 3 x 6 x 2 in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

William Dawson (1901-1990) Man in White Pants, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 10 x 2 ¾ x 1 ½ in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) White Dog, 1970s Carved and painted wood, varnish 1 x 2 ½ x ¾ in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

William Dawson (1901-1990) Man in Striped Shirt, 1975 Carved and painted wood and hair 9 ½ x 4 ½ x 1 ½ in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 William Dawson (1901-1990) Man in Striped Shirt, 1975 Carved and painted wood and hair 13 x 4 ¾ x 1 ½ in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 William Dawson (1901-1990) Bird, 1979 Carved and painted wood, varnish 8 ½ x 5 ¼ x 1 in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Ann, 1980s Carved and painted wood, varnish 15 x 4 ¼ x 2 ¼ in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Betsey, 1980s Carved and painted wood, varnish 16 ¼ x 4 ½ x 2 ¼ in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Suzie, 1980s Carved and painted wood, varnish 17 ¾ x 5 x 3 in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Woman Red Spattered Dress, 1989 Carved and painted wood, varnish 17 ½ x 6 x ¾ in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Brown Horse, n.d.

Paint and carved wood 3 ¾ x 6 x 1 in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Horse with Orange Halter, n.d.

Carved and painted wood, varnish 3 x 3 3/8 x 1 in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Man, n.d.

Carved and painted wood, varnish 15 x 5 in.

Collection of Susann Craig

William Dawson (1901-1990) Man, n.d.

Carved and painted wood, varnish 8 x 2 ¾ x 1 ¼ in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Man with Fez Hat and Skirt, n.d.

Carved and painted wood, varnish 15 x 4 ½ x 1 ½ in.

Collection of Susann Craig William Dawson (1901-1990) Woman in White Skirt, n.d.

Carved and painted wood, varnish 10 x 2 x 2 in.

Collection of Susann Craig Thornton Dial (1928-2016) Untitled, 1985 Mixed media 22 x 33 x 23 in.

William S. Arnett Collection

Minnie Evans (1892-1987) Untitled, 1967 Graphite, oil, waxed crayon and collage on canvas board 25 x 31 in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson Roy Ferdinand (1959-2004) Untitled, n.d.

Colored pencil and marker 22 x 18 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Roy Ferdinand (1959-2004) Untitled, n.d.

Colored pencil and marker 28 x 22 in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth Eddie Harris (b. 1935) Batman, n.d.

Mixed media 47 x 37 ½ x 10 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Thornton Dial (1928-2016) Royal Flag, c. 1997-98 Mixed media 78 x 80 x 7 in.

William S. Arnett Collection of Souls Grown Deep Foundation

Bessie Harvey (1929-1994) Down in the Valley, c. 1990 Painted wood construction 21 ½ x 16 ½ x 13 in.

The Arient Family Collection

Sam Doyle (1906-1985) Lincoln in Frogmore, c. 1981 House paint on roofing tin 52 ½ x 25 ¾ in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth

William Hawkins (1895-1990) 5 Horses, n.d.

Enamel on board 51 x 73 x 2 ½ in.

Collection of Lael and Eugenie Johnson

Sam Doyle (1906-1985) Miss Lucky Food Stamp, 1983 Paint on metal sheets 46 ½ x 49 in.

The Arient Family Collection

William Hawkins (1895-1990) The Pen 150 Tears of Crime, n.d.

Enamel on board 52 x 52 x 2 ½ in.

Collection of Lael and Eugenie Johnson

Tarik Echols (b. 1973) Fly Away, 2012 Watercolor, crayon and collage on paper 21 x 24 x 1 in.

Little City Arts

Lonnie Holley (b. 1950) You Alley Thing, 2007 Mixed media 52 x 61 x 16 in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Gift of Lonnie Holley, 2007.7.1

William Edmondson (1874-1951) Angel, n.d.

Carved limestone 18 ½ x 13 x 5 ½ in.

Collection of Robert A. Roth William Edmondson (1874-1951) Two Doves, n.d.

Carved limestone 10 x 13 x 9 in.

Collection of Lael and Eugenie Johnson

Lonnie Holley (b. 1950) Untitled, 2015 Mixed media 80 x 19 x 18 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett Shirley Hudson (b. 1959) Mind Portrait, n.d.

Acrylic on board 25 x 19 in.

Courtesy of the Artist

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Clementine Hunter (1886-1988) Caring for Elderly Man, c. late 1960s Oil on canvas panel 13 ¾ x 25 ¾ in.

Collection of Scott H. Lang Ronald Lockett (1965-1998) Rebirth, 1987 Wire, nails and paint on Masonite 24 x 30 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett Ronald Lockett (1965-1998) Untitiled (Horse), 1987 Mixed media 43 x 51 x 6 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett Joe Minter (b. 1943) Untitled, 1990 Mixed media 84 x 19 x 16 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett Sister Gertrude Morgan (1900-1980) Lazarus Come Forth, 1965-1975 Ink and acrylic on paper 13 x 25 ¼ in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 Sister Gertrude Morgan (1900-1980) A Poem of My Calling, 1972 Ink and acrylic on paper 8 ¼ x 15 in.

Collection of Susann Craig Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 John Bunion “J.B.” Murray (1908-1988) Untitled, 1980s Ink and watercolor 33 x 27 in.

Collection of Robert Grossett Martha Jane Pettway (1893-2005) Blocks and Stripes Work- Clothes Quilt, 1940s Cotton, denim and corduroy 67 x 72 in.

William S. Arnett Collection of Souls Grown Deep Foundation David Philpot (b. 1940) Geometric Staff, 1981 Carved wood and rope 78 x 3 in.

Courtesy of David and Marsha Philpot

David Philpot (b. 1940) Harlequin Staff, 1995–2010 Mixed media 73 x 2 in.

Courtesy of David and Marsha Philpot David Philpot (b. 1940) Africanus Staff, 2004 Mixed media 76 x 3 in.

Courtesy of David and Marsha Philpot

Prophet Royal Robertson (1930-1997) Untitled, late 1980s Mixed media 28 x 22 in.

Collection of Susann Craig Juanita Rogers (1934-1985) Untitled, ca. 1980 Watercolor and pencil on paper 12 x 9 in.

Collection of Susann Craig

David Philpot (b. 1940) Diamond Staff, 2008 Mixed media 76 x 3 in.

Courtesy of David and Marsha Philpot

Marie “Big Mama” Roseman (1898-2004) Untitled, n.d.

Mixed media 60 ½ x 41 in.

Collection of Hamza Walker

David Philpot (b. 1940) Spiral Snakes Staff, n.d.

Mixed media 71 x 4 in.

Courtesy of David and Marsha Philpot

Nellie Mae Rowe (1900-1982) Purple Pig, c. 1975 Wood, painted chewing gum and watercolor 7 ½ x 6 x 8 ½ in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson

David Philpot (b. 1940) Stool, n.d.

Mixed media 27 x 27 x 21 in.

Courtesy of David and Marsha Philpot

Nellie Mae Rowe (1900-1982) Untitled, 1980 Crayon and ink on paper 9 ½ x 24 in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson

Elijah Pierce (1892-1984) Jesus Calming the Storm, 1965 Carved and painted wood relief 21 ½ x 12 ½ in.

Collection of Mike and Cindy Noland

Nellie Mae Rowe (1900-1982) Untitled, c. 1995 Plastic base, chewing gum, beads, jewelry and paint 4 x 4 x 4 ½ in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson

Elijah Pierce (1892-1984) Goat, c. 1975 Carved and painted wood, glass, and chicken bones 8 ½ x 8 ½ x 2 ½ in.

Collection of Scott H. Lang Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

Kevin Sampson (b. 1954) Port Wine Stains, n.d.

Mixed media 48 x 48 x 36 in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Gift of Cavin-Morris Gallery and Kevin Sampson, 2008.1

Elijah Pierce (1892-1984) Leopard, c. 1975 Carved wood, ink and rhinestones 6 x 9 ¾ x 3 ½ in.

Collection of Scott H. Lang

Herbert Singleton (1945-2007) Fear No Evil, c. 1990 Carved and painted wood 22 ½ x 41 in.

The Arient Family Collection

Elijah Pierce (1892-1984) Tiger, 1981 Carved and painted wood 8 ¾ x 15 ¼ x 1 ¾ in.

Collection of Scott H. Lang Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980

Herbert Singleton (1945-2007) This Was a Good Man, c. 1992 Carved and painted wood 20 x 61 in.

The Arient Family Collection

Elijah Pierce (1892-1984) Biblical Lion and Lamb, 1983 Carved and painted wood relief 12 x 17 in.

Collection of Mike and Cindy Noland

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Dr. Charles Smith (b. 1940) Butler Boys, n.d.

Plaster or cement 28 ½ x 19 ½ x 7 in. / 26 x 16 x 5 in.

Collection of Patric McCoy

Mary T. Smith (1904-1995) Untitled, 1987 Paint on wood 27 ½ x 13 in.

Collection of William S. Arnett James “Son Ford” Thomas (1926-1993) Grey Skull with Beard, c. 1988 Sundried clay, green marble eyes and dentures 9 x 3 ½ x 7 ½ in.

The Arient Family Collection James “Son Ford” Thomas (1926-1993) Skull, 1989 Sundried clay, aluminum foil and pebbles 7 ½ x 5 x 3 ½ in.

The Arient Family Collection James “Son Ford” Thomas (1926-1993) Skull, 1991 Sundried clay and human teeth 7 ½ x 7 x 4 ½ in.

The Arient Family Collection James “Son Ford” Thomas (1926-1993) Skull, 1992 Sundried clay, aluminum foil, plastic and denture teeth 9 x 5 ½ x 4 ½ in.

The Arient Family Collection Mose Tolliver (1919-2006) Untitled (Large male/small female), n.d.

Acrylic on wood 22 x 23 ½ in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Gift of Phyllis Kind, 2006.22.10 Bill Traylor (c. 1854-1949) Untitled, c. 1939-1942 Poster paint and pencil on cardboard 26 7/8 x 18 ¾ in.

Private Collection Bill Traylor (c. 1854-1949) Man Leading Dog, n.d.

Poster paint and pencil on cardboard 27 x 26 x ½ in.

Collection of Angie Mills and Jan Petry Bill Traylor (c. 1854-1949) Woman with Basket and Bird, n.d.

Poster paint and pencil on cardboard 17 x 16 x 1 ½ in.

Collection of Lael and Eugenie Johnson Inez Nathaniel Walker (1911-1990) Untitled (Man), 1977 Mixed media 16 ½ x 14 in.

Collection of Angie Mills and Jan Petry

Inez Nathaniel Walker (1911-1990) Untitled (Pink-faced woman with purple dress), 1977 Mixed media 12 x 18 in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Gift of Margaret Robson, 2006.25.3 Mr. Imagination (Gregory Warmack) (1948-2012) Carved Sandstone Head, 1986 Sandstone carving 13 x 10 x 4 ½ in.

Collection of Joel Hall and Craig L. Davis Mr. Imagination (Gregory Warmack) (1948-2012) Mr. I.’s Hands, 2001 Concrete Right hand: 9 ½ x 4 ¼ x 1 in.

Left hand: 10 x 5 x 1 in.

Collection of Joel Hall and Craig L. Davis Mr. Imagination (Gregory Warmack) (1948-2012) Women of Somalia, n.d.

Bottle caps, whisk brooms, wood putty, paint, paint brushes, buttons, and shells 90 x 20 x 10 in.

Collection of Cleo F. Wilson Derek Webster (1934-2009) Untitled, 1986 Found wood construction 42 x 8 ¼ x 9 in.

The Arient Family Collection Derek Webster (1934-2009) Red Ryder, 1987 Mixed media 54 x 22 x 31 in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Gift of Ruth and Bob Vogele, 2004.41.1 Luster Willis (1913-1990) Reverend Jesse Jackson, early 1980s Pencil, ballpoint pen, paint, glue, glitter and paper collage on poster board 19 ¾ x 13 ¼ in.

William S. Arnett Collection of Souls Grown Deep Foundation

Joseph E. Yoakum (1890-1972) Biscian Bay St. Nazair France by Joseph E. Yoakum, c. 1965-1972 Black ballpoint pen and watercolor on wove paper, varnish 18 7/8 x 25 15/16 in.

Roger Brown Study Collection, the School of the Art Institute of Chicago Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 Joseph E. Yoakum (1890-1972) The First Steam Engine to be assigned to the service of the Kansas City Fort Scott and Memphis Run between Kansas City and Springfield Missouri on the St. Louis and San Francisco Rail Road pulling the Kansas City and Florida special from Kansas City to Jacksonville Florida in year 1901 by Joseph E. Yoakum, c. 1965–1972 Black ballpoint pen, colored pencils and colored chalk on wove paper 19 x 12 in.

Roger Brown Study Collection, the School of the Art Institute of Chicago Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 Joseph E. Yoakum (1890-1972) Mounds on Sugar plantation of Maui Valley Island shaped Hawaii Island in Hawaii National Park by Joseph E. Yoakum APR 24 1970, 1970 Black ballpoint pen, colored chalks and colored pencils on wove paper 12 3/16 x 19 in.

Roger Brown Study Collection, the School of the Art Institute of Chicago Included in the original exhibition, Black Folk Art in America, 1930-1980 Purvis Young (1943-2010) Untitled (Book), n.d.

Mixed media 12 x 9 ¼ x 2 ¼ in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Gift of Judy Saslow, 2015.1

Wesley Willis (1963-2003) Get Beeped Go Becker, 1993 Marker on poster board 28 x 41 in.

Matt and Nicole Arient Collection Wesley Willis (1963-2003) Wrigley Field, 1993 Marker on poster board 28 x 41 in.

The Arient Family Collection

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Tarik Echols (b. 1973), Fly Away, 2012, Watercolor, crayon and collage on paper, 21 x 24 x 1 in.

Little City Arts 30

Marie “Big Mama” Roseman (1898-2004), Untitled, n.d. Mixed media, 60 ½ x 41 in.

Collection of Hamza Walker 31

Inez Nathaniel Walker (1911-1990), Untitled (Pink-faced woman with purple dress), 1977. Mixed media, 12 x 18 in.

Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art, Gift of Margaret Robson, 2006.25.3 32

Bill Traylor (c. 1854-1949), Man Leading Dog, n.d. Poster paint and pencil on cardboard, 27 x 26 x ½ in.

Collection of Angie Mills and Jan Petry 33

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William Dawson (1901-1990). Group of arworks,1970s-1990. Carved and painted wood and bone, varnish, various sizes.

Collection of Susann Craig 35

LENDERS TO THE EXHIBITION

This catalogue is produced in conjunction with the exhibition: Post Black Folk Art in America 1930-1980-2016

The Arient Family Collection Matt and Nicole Arient Collection William Arnett Susann Craig Robert A. Roth Roger Brown Study Collection, The School of the Art Institute Chicago Robert Grossett Joel Hall and Craig L. Davis Eddie Harris Shirley Hudson Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art Lael and Eugenie Johnson Scott H. Lang Little City Arts Patrick McCoy Mike and Cindy Noland Jan Petry and Angie Mills David and Marsha Philpot Private Collection Prison + Neighborhood Arts Project Keith Sadler Souls Grown Deep Foundation David Syrek and David Csicsko Hamza Walker Cleo F. Wilson

July 15, 2016 – January 8, 2017 Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art 756 N. Milwaukee Avenue Chicago, Illinois 60642 T: 312.243.9088 | www.art.org Copyright 2017. Intuit: The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art. All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without written permission from the publisher.

Intuit is supported in part by grants from: City Arts, City of Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events, the Alphawood Foundation, Richard Driehaus Foundation, Elizabeth Morse Foundation, Illinois Arts Council, National Endowment for the Arts, Polk Brothers Foundation, Sage Foundation, and the Terra Foundation for American Art.

Photography: Cheri Eisenberg John Faier Design: Lowercase, Inc. Front cover: Detail, Thornton Dial (1928-2016), Royal Flag, c. 1997-98. Mixed media, 78 x 80 x 7 in.

William S. Arnett Collection of Souls Grown Deep Foundation Back cover: Detail, William Hawkins (1895-1990), 5 Horses, n.d. Enamel on board, 51 x 73 x 2 ½ in.

Collection of Lael and Eugenie Johnson

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Intuit: the Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art is a not-for-profit organization founded in 1991.

Our mission is to promote public awareness, understanding, and appreciation of intuitive and outsider art through a program of education, exhibition, collecting and publishing. Intuit defines “intuitive and outsider art� as work of artists who demonstrate little influence from the mainstream art world and who instead are motivated by their unique personal visions. This includes what is known as art brut, non-traditional folk art, self-taught art and visionary art. Art.org.

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756 N. Milwaukee Avenue Chicago, Illinois 60642 T: 312.243.9088 | www.art.org 38