The Creators of N.C

Every Moment is a Window

Through his art, Richard Wilson bridges the gap between then and now

By Wiley Cash Photogr a Phs By M allory Cash Spend some time with visual artist Richard Wilson’s work, and you’ll quickly grasp the role historical connection plays in it.

Take his Shadow Series, for example. In each painting, an Af rican American boy or girl stands in the foreground, the background comprised of images of an Af rican American trailblazer. In one piece, a girl in a leather bomber jacket blocks the sun f rom her eyes and stares toward the horizon, as if searching for a sign of what’s to come; behind her is an assemblage of newspaper stories and photographs of Bessie Coleman, the first Af rican American woman to hold a pilot’s license. Another shows a young boy in oversized boxing gloves gazing up at a speed bag that’s just out of reach; behind him, a newspaper announces that Jack Johnson has defeated James Jef f ries to become the 1910 heav y weight champion of the world, the first Af rican American to win the title. Other luminaries such as Ar thur Ashe, Serena Williams, Michael Jordan and Barack Obama are featured in the series, each a g uiding light for the young dreamer standing “in the shadow.” To the viewer, it’s clear that ancestors and aspiration are powerf ully present in Wilson’s ar t work.

A nd if you sp end a ny t ime w it h t he ar t ist h imself, you’ l l underst a nd t hat a nc estors a nd a spir at ion are p ower f u l ly present in h is ow n l ife.

T he oldest of three boys, Wilson was born in Robersonville (Mar tin Count y) and moved with his family to Conetoe (pronounced Kuh-nee-tuh), another r ural town in Eastern Nor th Carolina, when he was 8. He grew up surrounded by family — siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. T hey were close-knit.

Today, Wi lson is st anding in t he midd le of his ar t st udio in G reenv i lle, N.C., where he and his w ife have lived for just over 20 years. T he wa lls around him are festooned w it h his or ig ina l work s and r ibbons f rom nat iona l ar t shows; t he floor clut tered w it h f r amed pr ints and work s -in-prog ress. Wi lson, a t a ll man who look s like a linebacker yet compor ts himself like a poet, admits t hat he has nearly outg row n t he space t hat he bui lt himself. On t he wa ll opposite him is a f r amed or ig ina l pa int ing t it led A Win dow Int o th e Past, in which an older A f r ic an A mer ic an man w it h a c ane is picking his way across a field to a weat hered t wo -stor y far m house. T he man in t he pa int ing is Wi lson’s uncle. T he home, which has since been demolished, once belonged to Wi lson’s pater na l g r andmot her, Fr ancis Wi lson K night, lov ingly k now n to ever yone — fami ly or

ot her w ise — as G r andma Pigaboot.

“Ever y weekend we’d go to my grandmother’s house,” Wilson says, gesturing toward the painting. “A ll the children and grandchildren. T hat was the highlight of my week. My uncle, who was a sharecropper, would cook on the grill. We’d all play k ickball and sof tball. I can still smell the rain on the dir t, the trees — pears and pecans. It was a beautif ul life.” He sighs and his broad shoulders slump for ward slightly. “But when my grandmother passed away, we all stopped going back there, and we just lost that connection.”

A lthough Wilson’s work is nothing if not realistic, each piece contains elements of symbolism that could be lost on the casual viewer. In the painting of Grandma Pigaboot’s house, the electrical ser vice entrance — where the home had once been connected to a power line — is f rayed and disconnected. T hat’s exactly how R ichard Wilson felt in 2020, a year that saw a pandemic cripple the globe and political and cultural turmoil seize the hear t and soul of the nation. Wilson used his ar t to reconnect with his family, his communit y and the landscape that once brought him so much joy.

A lthough he had featured his grandmother’s house in previous works, last year he found himself wanting to paint it again, and this time he wanted to include a family member. He called up his Uncle Bill and asked if he could come take some photographs of him. Uncle Bill happily obliged. It had been a while since they’d seen each other.

“We star ted talk ing about old times,” Wilson says, “and he star ted posing for me, and I star ted tak ing pictures of him. We had a great time.” But Wilson wanted to keep their reunion a secret. “I told him, ‘Don’t tell your children I’m doing this painting,’” says Wilson. “I wanted to put it on Facebook to see if they recognized the house and recognized that their father was in the painting.”

Imagine Wilson’s delight when, af ter posting the finished painting online, Uncle Bill ’s youngest daughter wrote this: Hey, cuz, I really like this piece. It reminds me of back in the day, and the man in the picture reminds me of my pops.

C omment s f rom ot her c ousins fol lowe d, e ach ex pressing tender sent iment s.

“And then they star ted buying prints,” Wilson says, suppor ting him at a time when ar t shows had been canceled due to COV ID. “It brought us all back together.”

Of course, the house in the painting represents much more than just a place. Wilson’s grandmother bequeathed him a legacy that highlights the impor tance of family, faith, land and self-reliance — all of which Wilson has made use of throughout his path to becoming a f ull-time ar tist against incredible odds.

“My g randmother took us around and made sure that she introduced us to a ll of our family members,” Wilson says. “She was adamant about that, about k now ing who your people are.” He stops speak ing and smiles as if a memor y is play ing through his mind. “She a lso taught us how to be entrepreneurs. We used to t ur n in Coke bot tles and get cash for them, and then we’d t ur n around and buy candy and sell it. Or we’d make Kool-A id and t ur n it into f reeze cups, and then we’d sell those.” She a lso taught Wilson and his siblings and cousins how to make use of the land by tak ing them fishing and teaching them how to sew gardens. A nd she instilled the impor tance of faith in their lives by ensur ing that they accompanied her to church.

R ichard Wilson has won countless awards for his ar t, which has been featured in television shows and films, showcased in public and private collections and purchased by the likes of the late Hank Aaron and Gladys K night. T hose early lessons f rom his grandmother have allowed him to turn a childhood spark of inspiration into the passionate flame that f uels his work. His Shadows Series makes that clear.

But R ichard Wilson acknowledges that not ever yone is as luck y to have had the family and influences he’s had. Yet that’s the great thing about forging a connection with people you love.

“If you didn’t have it then,” he says, “you can star t it now.”

One could say the same about living your dream. OH

Wiley Cash is the writer-in-residence at the University of North CarolinaAsheville. His new novel, W hen Ghosts Come Home, will be released this year.