Black female creativity celebrated at SOMArts
“The Black Woman Is God” art exhibition, which closes this weekend with a series of performances at SOMArts, is remarkable in several ways. It was originally conceived by co-curators Melorra Green and Karen Seneferu in 2012 and mounted in 2013 as a small group art show at the African American Art & Culture Complex.
Audience interest was so great that Green and Seneferu brought a much expanded exhibit to SOMArts in 2016. That was such a hit that they organized this year’s edition, with more than 75 artists. SOMArts staff told me they’re already eagerly anticipating next year’s show.
This is the kind of trajectory you might imagine for a hit TV show, not a group art show dedicated to the work of black female Bay Area artists.
Clearly, “The Black Woman Is God” has tapped into something the Bay Area needs.
Hoping to better understand the exhibit’s power, I sat down with the community of “The Black Woman Is God” — Green, Seneferu, as well as some of the artists, exhibition designers, and family members who made everything possible — for a Q&A. This year’s show closes Saturday, Aug. 26. Don’t miss it. Caille Millner: This exhibit started four years ago with 20 artists in a smaller space. Now it’s got more than 75 artists and it’s used not just one, but mul-
tiple spaces at SOMArts. That’s a lot of change since 2013 — what are the other changes you’ve seen since the beginning of this exhibit?
Toshia Christal, 34, Oakland, artist: For me, it’s definitely changed my thinking about what I want to present to the audience. This exhibition has been about sharing knowledge. We’ve met each other as artists through the process of exhibiting together, and we’ve seen the audience use our work as a tool and a guide to help themselves.
Aamber Newsome, 31, Oakland, artist: I’ve been in so many group shows where it was just a bunch of art and a bunch of people. So it’s been amazing for me to see how different the impact this show has had. As artists, we’ve all made work around this idea of “The Black Woman Is God.” And even though we’ve all been in different rooms, by ourselves, and even though we’ve created very different work, there are all of these similar themes as far as ideas, memories, images and understanding.
Karen Seneferu, 57, Richmond, co-curator: You were all listening for something spiritual.
Newsome: Yes. And when other black women have walked into this space, they’ve had an immediate response to the work. A physical response — I’ve seen it. Especially if they haven’t been in touch with their own creativity.
Seneferu: This is usually a political space — all museums and institutions are. They’re statements about the trajectory of art. So what’s been meaningful for me is to create an exhibit that’s become a spiritual space for people. We’ve seen people leave changed — let go of their baggage about their hair or their body or the way they claim themselves in public. And that’s the most powerful thing to me, even as I’ve been thrilled to see this exhibit shift the way local art institutions think about their practices.
Millner: Tell me more about how you think it’s shifted things.
Seneferu: Usually, in these institutions, there’s one artist, right? One black artist, one woman artist, if you’re very lucky one black woman artist. With this exhibit, we’ve reflected multiple identities and images. And the audience has connected with the idea of multiplicity.
Matthew McKinley, 47, San Francisco, lead exhibition designer: I noticed something about how the exhibit’s changed. Last year’s show to me was about bringing the community together. This year, I noticed all of the portraits are facing out. It’s almost like they’re daring the audience.
Newsome: They’re saying, “I’m tired of saying I’m sorry.”
Millner: Do you think the political situation has motivated this shift?
Christal: There’s no denying that black, and black alone, continues to be political. That’s just the situation of living in this country. There’s certainly a new energy around this subject as we’re tackling it — what is the possibility that we can see divinity in black women? In the black body?
Melorra Green, 39, San Francisco, co-curator: When you’re a black woman, claiming your body in public is a political act. Living is a creative act. The exhibit holds up these needs with joy. It’s not that the work here got more political — it’s that, outside of here, other people decided our existence was more political.
Jeffrey Yip, 36, Oakland, artist: I’m so happy to be participating in this exhibit, as far as politics goes. (Seneferu and Green have invited men as well as other artists of color to participate in this weekend’s closing performances.) Between (President) Trump, the white supremacists, the Ghost Ship fire — this show is a spiritual opportunity. We’re sharing our trauma together. We’re coming together to heal.
Millner: The performance pieces have been a huge part of this show.
Green: They happened really organically.
Seneferu: Yes. So many women were having these responses to the art — they would come in and start needing to have testimony about their experiences.
Green: So last year, I wanted us to have a moment before the show opened where we could center ourselves. To understand that this wasn’t just about looking at pretty pieces on the wall. I wanted it to be about peace. And from there it took on a life of its own. Dancers! Drummers! More people than we could fit in this room!
Millner: What are you planning for the future of the exhibit?
Green: Next year you’ll see more events in Oakland, where a lot of the artists live.
Seneferu: This has already been a dream come true. Our ultimate dream for the exhibition is for it to travel — across the U.S., Europe and the African continent. And we’d love to have incredible artists in those places participate. It will connect in those places too.