Deana Lawson's photography divides critics
and I'm here for it
I've just re-read Gwendolyn Dubois Shaw's essay on Deana Lawson’s 2021 Guggenheim show, Centropy. It's worth your time.
It’s rare to read a review like this about a Black artist’s work. No one really tells the truth in reviews of our work. The fear of backlash is real.
Let’s start with a snippet:
‘Lawson’s images, and the ways that she has discussed her process, seem to be actively reproducing the kind of big-dick energy power dynamics of White male artists who also claim mastery over their subject matter.’
Wow, fire attracts fire huh?
When thinking about Lawson’s work I prepare myself, check in with where I’m at in my head. Some works require this level of diligence and DuBois Shaw’s review requires a similar pre-entry checklist. But it’s hard to ascertain whether one’s disassociating or grounding oneself in preparation.
Tina Campt explains that due diligence is necessary when approaching Lawson’s work:
There is a certain level of divestment you have to do when you encounter her work. You are face to face with what you bring to the image, and you are confronted with what it brings up in you. The question is, can you let that go to really take in the image?
Perhaps Dubois Shaw found this way of seeing tricky. Regardless, what you’re about to read in this piece is important because the author is exercising her right to connect with the work and her full self, in that moment. Whether we agree or don’t doesn’t matter, because what she is doing is processing something very personal. She does however manage to acknowledge Campt’s highly regarded positioning regarding Lawson’s work:
While I would like to agree with Tina Campt’s assertion in A Black Gaze that, “We must work to confront our resistance to seeing flawed but beautiful bodies of Black women [in Lawson’s work] who refuse to be shamed as they display themselves publicly with dignity and purpose.” I was not seeing much that was dignified in “Axis.”
(Axis depicts three naked women doing the splits on a shabby rug).
Oh dear.
One of the challenges I experienced as a judge in this years British Podcast Awards, was that my fellow judges seemed hellbent on contorting themselves into being Black podcast cheerleaders, no matter what. And I mean, no matter how bad the content was. Quality wasn’t discussed, nor was cultural relevance. I was so disappointed. I wanted to see the judges challenge the work submitted and themselves. I wanted to see rigorous discussions on the value of the work and how it’s moving the medium forward. What I heard was alot of oh she’s coooool. It didn’t seem to matter that similar work was being done much better elsewhere. The discussion would have played out very differently if the judges had prioritised the quality of the work, above their fear of any backlash that may come from criticising it for it’s obvious shortcomings. The problem with all this love, light and learning that happened in 2020, is that no one seemed to learn anything. Structures that keep people like me out of your boardrooms and previews are being firmly upheld.

This is why I respect DuBois Shaw putting her neck on the line. She’s a Black woman talking from a position of subjectivity with her full chest, knowing that she’s gonna upset some people. However, as outspoken as she may be, she’s hardly challenging harmful tropes relating to Black exceptionality.
In her essay Dubois Shaw cites an example of a critic who tried to offer a counter perspective to the glowing reviews of Dawson’s work. What followed was a series of career cancelling events, affecting not only the critic but also those associated with their work. This is worrying. If the point of commentators is to fawn over an artists work, then we may as well give up now. My thoughts here are not really about Lawson's work or DuBois Shaw's writing - but about having the freedom to feel something.
See you all for November’s issue of Shade Art Review, this Sunday.
x Lou
*thanks for your patience with any typo or grammar issues (Dyslexic and open to editorial support)


