Carving out a space for Black art
Working in white-dominated cultural scene can be stifling, but alternatives are emerging
I can’t imagine Toronto without the contributions of Black artists. It would be a city without a soul, without a beating heart, lifeless without the films of Charles Officer, the art of Michèle Pearson Clarke, the music of dvsn or the sculptures of Esmaa Mohamoud. But it isn’t easy for Black poets, musicians, filmmakers, artists and playwrights to stitch themselves permanently into the city’s cultural tapestry — systemic barriers work tirelessly to keep them marginalized.
Whiteness permeates every aspect of professional life in this city. A 2017 study found that even though visible minorities make up more than half of Toronto’s population, they only make up 3.3 per cent of corporate boards and 9.2 per cent of the private sector’s senior management. Essentially, if you want to succeed or simply wade your way through the bureaucratic waters, you anticipate having to contend with the white powers that be. It’s an inescapable and stifling endeavour.
And that is especially true for Black artists. Despite their numerous cultural contributions to the city, there is a glaring disparity between the amount of Black artists who receive solo exhibitions, media coverage and sustainable careers, compared to their white counterparts. There is a lack of institutional support to foster their careers. If the doors don’t open for you, how can you be expected to get in? That’s a question that Black artists and curators have been grappling with long before this moment where anti-Black racism and systemic racism are trending in mainstream news. Major art institutions in Canada are rooted in colonialism, so naturally they still continue to insidiously uplift white hegemony.
Canadian Art Magazine recently reported that across the four main Canadian galleries, including the Art Gallery of Ontario, 96 per cent of senior executives are white. These numbers specifically reflect the state of the art world, but are indicative of an endemic issue. When those determining policies and setting budgets don’t look like you, don’t reflect your lived experience and, by consequence of that difference, don’t work to platform your work, you get a sense that the institutions aren’t built with you in mind.
And yet, there are spaces where Black art gets the agency to thrive, where it flourishes despite underrepresentation, limited access, and minimal acknowledgment within mainstream cultural
institutions. That’s largely thanks to Black-owned and Black-run arts organizations, non-profits, collectives and galleries, who play a crucial role — in this moment of civil unrest and always — in platforming and centring the work of Black artists.
Rather than attempting to placate or bend to the will of hindering forces, Black-owned and -run arts organizations help to fill in some of these systemic gaps by creating different models, building their own spaces and looking within the community for representation. Organizations like Black Artists’ Network in Dialogue (BAND), Nia Centre for the Arts, Obsidian Theatre, Black Artists Union Collective (BAU), Urban Arts and Wedge Curatorial Projects are born out of this necessity.
Take BAND gallery for example. The cultural centre in Parkdale was founded in 2008 by Julie Crooks, Maxine Bailey, Karen Carter and Karen Tyrell, powerhouse mobilizers who have created a space to showcase and platform the works of emerging Black artists. Their gallery documents the artistic and cultural contributions of Black artists in
Canada and abroad, and has helped jump-start the careers of numerous creators over the years as an accessible exhibition space that lets artists and curators see their work displayed in a professional setting while introducing their art to the general public.
Founded in 2016, BAU formed its collective because its members felt Black representation was missing in Toronto’s art scene, despite Black creators being major contributors to the arts culture. Navigating Toronto’s insular art world together, in just a few years they’ve launched numerous initiatives to support other artists. Currently, they’re raising money for a COVID-19 relief fundraiser to help Black artists who are out of work and a series of micro-grants to support Black entrepreneurs and creatives in developing new business ideas. Recently, they used their social platforms to disseminate information about Black Lives Matter Toronto, protests and social activism. They’re also working with arts programmers and an art store to provide free art supplies to Black artists in the city.
Another organization promoting the works of Black artists is Nia Centre, which is in the midst of finalizing plans to renovate its facility into the largest professional multidisciplinary artspace dedicated to Black art in Canada. The new space on Oakwood Avenue in Little Jamaica will include a live performance venue, a digital art studio, visual and recording studios, a gallery and an event space. Since the centre’s inception in 2009, it has run professional development courses, community events and programming for young artists to bridge the gap between Black artists and substantial employment opportunities.
In 2019, they hosted a school trip for students from Etobicoke School of the Arts to visit BAND gallery’s “Ears, Eyes, Voice” exhibition of 30 years of photography by Black Torontonian photojournalists. The tour was followed by a workshop led by artist Tim Hunter, a member of BAU. This is just one example of these organizations working in tandem to change the landscape. The goal, throughout all their initiatives, is to bring Afro-diasporic art to a larger audience and to counteract the omission of Black artists from the collective narrative of Canadian art.
In my research for this piece, I reached out to Black creative leaders in this city, asking if there were any organizations I wasn’t aware of that were helping to platform Black artists. Most struggled to think of more than a handful — a testament, I believe, to the fact that there aren’t enough and the ones that do exist are not as widely known as they should be.
Across disciplines from dance to photography to film, organizations and initiatives like the aforementioned, as well as Ballet Creole, the Youth YYZ, Black Gold and KasheDance are doing work that is imperative to the proliferation of Black art in Toronto.
Put simply, if we want the artists creating work in this city to be representative of this city as a whole, these groups need our collective support.