Amongst the general public, the museum represents the primary source for experiencing original works of art; perhaps no other institution can claim as much influence on what constitutes a nation’s cultural wealth. The widespread perception of the museum as the pinnacle of culture foregrounds its effectiveness as a tool to draw the public’s attention to pressing issues. Indeed, museums are not only suitably positioned to dismantle oppressive systems but maintain an ethical responsibility to do so. Of course, the very nature of the museum has been built on a foundation of colonialism, with exclusionary tendencies inextricably ingrained into the museum programme. The recent revival of the Black Lives Matter movement has only highlighted the immense volume of work to be done within the art world to minimize injustices toward Black, Indigenous, and people of colour (BIPOC). Performative activism and deafening silence abound, the spotlight is on museums to step up for those communities that are most vulnerable.
As far as conventional wisdom goes, the underlying motivation of the museum is primarily ideological. In fact, the museum’s architecture, layout, supplementary guides and installations are traditionally part of a deliberately constructed programme to impose upon visitors a nation’s fundamental socio-political values (Duncan and Wallach, 1980). Duncan and Wallach (1980) liken the museum experience to a sort of religious or ceremonial ritual: “By performing the ritual of walking through the museum, the visitor is prompted to enact and thereby to internalize the values and beliefs written into the architectural script” (pp. 450-451). The tendency of museums to boast traditional Greco-Roman architecture alludes to the supremacy and ideality of imperial Rome; as a result, the museum emphasizes the authority of the state while simultaneously associating the identity of the ideal citizen with those who take part in the museum ritual.
Despite its claim as a public institution belonging to all members of the state, the intended audience of the museum is heavily dependent on class, race, and sex (Duncan and Wallach, 1980). Furthermore, the museum has concretized the idea of art as a product of individual genius and achievement, thereby immediately establishing works of art within museum collections as valuable. However, the colonial underpinnings of the museum traces back to the displays of treasures looted from colonized nations; in this case, inclusion of such art does not speak to the artist’s genius, but functions as so-called proof of European power and dominion. In today’s museums, colonial thinking is retained as an implicit bias that views exhibitions of Asian, African, Pre-Columbian and Indigenous art as testimonies to Western (white) supremacy. As such, the museum’s fundamental function is to “reinforce among some people the feeling of belonging and among others the feeling of exclusion” (Duncan and Wallach, 1980, p. 457).
The death of George Floyd and subsequent civil unrest made explicitly clear that these exclusionary and colonial tendencies have been retained among today’s major museums. Curator and writer Aindrea Emelife published a powerful article calling attention to the inadequate (at best) responses of many cultural institutions to the recent ensuing social debate. Many of the major museums and galleries that own and profit from the work of Black artists, Emelife observes, were either deafeningly silent or extremely slow to speak up for BIPOC and voice their commitment to anti-racism. Those institutions that did speak up did so in a flourish of virtue signalling and were quick to return to their normal routine once the initial outrage subsided.
Unfortunately, this issue runs deep in the art world; museums enthusiastically embrace the work of Black artists who are already widely recognized, heavily advertising these artworks in exhibitions or public acquisitions. The reality is, however, that work by BIPOC artists comprises a grossly insufficient proportion of museum collections. This racial bias within museums is a direct result of their being founded on the shoulders of colonial nations in order to communicate harmful ideas of nationalism and for the enjoyment of a privileged minority, as previously noted. Emelife’s article outlines that this narrative is only beginning to be dismantled, and that there is a long way to go if museums hope to remain relevant in an increasingly progressive society.
The tendency among museums when it comes to acquiring work by BIPOC is often little more than brand tokenism. Brand tokenism, as defined by Layla Saad in her book Me and White Supremacy (2020), occurs “when a predominantly white organization…engages a few token BIPOC or uses BIPOC cultural elements to give the visual effect of diversity without being actually committed to inclusion or antiracism in practice” (p. 272). Emelife emphasizes that greater representation of Black individuals is required in all professions within the art world, including curators, historians, and gallerists, to name a few, in order to combat virtue signalling and “recontextualize [Black] narratives.”
Sadly, brand tokenism is rampant among these positions as well. Such was precisely the case with Chaédria LaBouvier, the Guggenheim Museum in New York City’s first Black curator. LaBouvier curated the Guggenheim’s 2019 exhibition, “Basquiat’s ‘Defacement’: The Untold Story,” which displayed the artist’s exploration of his relationship to law enforcement as a Black man through his art. LaBouvier subsequently denounced the museum on Twitter for subjecting her to “the most racist professional experience of [her] life,” and that she had to constantly fight for professional autonomy and proper credit for her work. Furthermore, the Guggenheim failed to invite LaBouvier to participate in a panel organized to publicize the exhibition she herself curated.
The final blow came when the Guggenheim released a statement on Blackout Tuesday, along with an image of a black square, announcing that they “stand in solidarity with those demanding justice and an end to racism,” after failing to take responsibility and apologize for the museum’s treatment of LaBouvier. The Guggenheim’s actions are a fitting example of both brand tokenism and performative activism, putting out a face of inclusivity to the public while continuing to uphold institutional racism in practice. In response, LaBouvier tweeted: “Get the entire f**** out of here. I am Chaédria LaBouvier, the first Black curator in your 80 year history & you refused to acknowledge that while also allowing Nancy Spector to host a panel about my work w/o inviting me.”
As a white woman, I recognize the privilege that I hold as a result of my race. It is this privilege that compels me to support the voices of Black professionals like Emelife and LaBouvier. These past months I have learned that it is crucial to remain critical of cultural institutions that claim to act in the best interests of the entire state, when in reality they are instrumental in propagating a system that works to the benefit of a privileged minority. The public must acknowledge the colonial and exclusionary history of the museum, rather than blindly accepting what these institutions deem important as such. To stand in solidarity with BIPOC in the art world means holding museums accountable for systemic racism and injustices and championing for increased representation for BIPOC in museum professions. It is equally important to remain actively vigilant of such injustices within cultural institutions that may be overlooked due to our own implicit biases and internalized racism that have been seeded within the art industry since its formation.
Bibliography: Duncan, C. and Wallach, A. (1980). The Universal Survey Museum. Art History, 3(4): 448-469. doi: 10.1111/j.1467-8365.1980.tb00089.x Saad, L. F. (2018). Me and White Supremacy: Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor. Naperville, IL: Sourcebooks.
Isabel Filer is a recent biology and management graduate from McGill University. Despite her education, Isabel spends all her free time immersing herself in the arts and intends to pursue a career in the art world.
Feature Image: Jean-Michel Basquiat – Defacement (The Death of Michael Stewart), 1983. Photograph: Allison Chipak/Collection of Nina Clemente, New York.