The Sharp Edges of Art
I’ve always believed that Minnesota is a very beautiful place and a very underrated state. Besides the breathtaking landscapes of midwestern lake shores and forests, it is a place fueled by a unique culture cultivated by tradition while embracing (selective) modernity in a fashion that can’t be matched. The values of Minnesota are not something that I realized until I got older. Unlike most Minnesotan upbringings, a Black childhood made it far too easy to see my environment’s problems before seeing its purity, and I was barely even exposed to the suburbs. My family is not from Minnesota and my parents’ soundtrack to early parenthood was me constantly pestering them as to why they decided to settle in a place that doesn’t have a history as loud as New York City, where many other immigrants ended up.
Pictured: Me, Zoe Challenger, at age 6 in my hockey warm up gear
Realizing that I was watching the true American Revolution erupt from my streets, I couldn’t help but recognize this emotional release to be cathartic. Despite the fear due to witnessing the sudden change from a quaint hipster metropolis to a heavily militarized state, I couldn’t help feeding the lurking sense of pride knowing that the Twin Cities was the place meant to take on this destiny. So far, the events of the summer of 2020 have changed Minnesota summers forever, they will be more beautiful than I have ever known them in my 21 years. We have publicly ripped off the suffocating bandage that has protected the reality of “Minnesota Nice”. Perhaps in the future, we’ll know Minneapolis as we know 18th century Paris: a city of art, raw with emotion, vigor, and lacking in fear. However, we’re still right in the middle of this history textbook chapter.
Documentarians of revolution constantly consider many roles, striving to allow multitude of ways to provide a new perspective of the past while attempting to craft a picture of the future. Art runs through the veins of revolution; it is a necessary byproduct of social unrest. Thought provoking art has the power to disrupt the lull of a sleeping society in a way that conversation, both professional and casual, cannot. The ability to access emotion in a way that requires personal introspection promotes change and amplifies the voice of the people into a place of power.
In the case of the unjust death by the hands of a power complex, those uncomfortable with questioning the state attempt to protect morality in power structures; often searching for a lack of “good” character in the victim as the compromise. This action actively weaponizes the harmful “us versus them” complex that has been normalized by the practice of stereotyping for centuries. One of the early formal police forces in the United States was created for the purpose of protecting slavery by hunting those trying to escape and by preventing revolts. The basis of the policing system in the United States was built on this “us versus them” complex. Therefore, the refusal to question the state avoids questioning the intricacies of the power complex that reveals itself through violence. By opting to question the victim instead, systemic oppression is being supported by the suggestion that the victim deserves to die for any reason that can be pulled out of thin air; but more importantly because the victim fit the description of “them”, the outlier or bad guy, rather than “us”, the community. This questioning ultimately aims to revoke necessary grievances by attempting to rationalize immorality by substituting it with the value of legality.
Depending on the amount of privilege you wield, questioning the makeup of the state means questioning the true cost and value of your livelihood. Perhaps you’ve had the privilege of being unaware until you reached adulthood or maybe you have just enough privilege to run away from it when you choose. But a valid criticism is hard to make if one is not willing to examine life outside of themselves. I believe that art has the power to remove the sheath from your eyes, even if you didn’t ask for a perspective outside of your own.
Thanks to the digital age, access to first-hand visual accounts of the traumatic experiences of others is now a part of mass media. Many think that repeatedly reposting images of violence is what will spark emotion to bring a cause to action, so they repost it. This doesn’t do anything meaningful, especially if it is assumed that making violence more accessible will increase awareness for a cause advocating against it. Most of these videos have involved altercations between police and Black people. The most recent waves of the Black Lives Matter movement sparked due to videos of violence upon Black bodies. It causes more harm by regurgitating the shared trauma of being Black in the Western world, and then reducing the depth of the content into a hashtag.
Let this be clear, emphasis on the visual component of violence is not meant to serve the same purpose as crafted visual expression. People are not dying to become examples for your reality check. Art is there to serve this purpose, hosting the potential to combine emotion with intellectual thought and criticism of society. Why else would art be historically gate-kept within the facade of elitism? Elitism in art proposes that many ought to be excluded from these “intellectual” conversations and even suggests that not everyone deserves a say if they can’t pay. Yet, art in academic settings has reserved spaces for those who can afford it. Elitism is not what fuels a successful revolution.
In contrast to the past, the uniqueness of our current revolution is that we have so many different avenues of expression with access to direct mass communication at our disposal. The basis of art is accessible to everybody and is valuable from every voice— for while many people share similar perspectives on life, no two minds will say the same thing. With a revolution occurring during a time when normal functions should be limited, there is more time to focus on expression. Whether it be through music, visual art, writing or performance, the role of art in a revolution is to amplify social noise by making it physical.
Sometimes, it feels weird to call this a revolution. To me, history classes had a tendency to make monumental change feel either behind us or far ahead. However, many examples of art around us are revolutionary in nature despite the fact that they were not conceived during a period of elevated social cacophony. Kendrick Lamar is an example of a revolutionary artist who has acquired legendary status for his advanced level of skill in manipulating sound and language to craft detailed personal narratives.
Pictured: Screenshot from Kendrick Lamar’s music video for ‘Alright’ in 2015. Courtesy of Kendrick Lamar, YouTube
It’s hard to decide which album of his is objectively the best, I believe that there is a Kendrick album for everybody. However, in each album, he provides dense social commentary in a manner that is strangely casual. You can easily throw in just about any Kendrick Lamar song into the queue when on aux with your friends and, despite the heavy material, it brings up a product of deep thought without suddenly dropping an elephant in the room. While he is a storyteller, he is always talking with you rather than at you. Kendrick Lamar’s Gemini influence presents itself in his mastery of a multifaceted method of communication. He constantly is tackling things that are ultimately bigger than him. He speaks the stories that lie in the mouths of many; he is so personal that when you listen to him on your own, it feels as if he is sitting with you in your room while you pass a joint between each verse. I find myself always coming back to PRIDE off of his album DAMN (2017) or the entirety of his compilation album, untitled unmastered (2016). His work emphasizes how the revolution is, collectively, a personal struggle.
Kendrick Lamar winning the Pulitzer Prize for his album DAMN was a revolutionary moment. While I believe many other of Kendrick’s albums were just as deserving if not more, DAMN entered the world at the right time— precisely five months after the election of Donald Trump, a time when everyone was forced to look at the country from a different angle. Most of Kendrick’s albums are political in nature but DAMN reflects upon the intersections of politics and personhood. DAMN validates Lamar’s journey to the man who he has grown up to be in the public eye, while simultaneously criticizing how his livelihood remains politicized the same way it has been his entire life. The entire album weaves in and out of biblical allusions, reflecting how religious influence is an emotional and intellectual experience. On a personal level, it transcends race despite the lack of humanity when it is used to justify racial violence. Additionally, Kendrick shows how some may use religious comfort in understanding why there is the desire for power over others.
The effect of Kendrick Lamar being the first hip-hop artist to win a Pulitizer brought a change of perspective towards rap and hip-hop; sparking a new era of recognizing and “validating” its musical and intellectual complexity. I find this frustrating because large-scale criticism on the intellectual value of rap and hip-hop are often rooted in anti-Blackness. Public validation from white institutions should not be necessary for people to find the depth of rap and hip hop valuable. However, a Pulitzer Prize for a revolutionary hip hop album is not a meaningless victory for it symbolizes an important shift in our social consciousness as a collective society.
Revolutionary art does not become revolutionary once it has been awarded, either through widespread critical acclaim, or formal recognition. Revolutionary art holds the potential of its seed in its very nature. Another example of an artist who has revolutionary exigence flowing through her entire discography is Chicago-based rapper, Noname. Both Kendrick Lamar and Noname are very open and detailed in their music as to how their hometowns, Compton and Chicago respectively, have heavily shaped their perspectives by the events of their lives. What Noname and Kendrick have in common is the ability to minimize their ego in their lyrics when they choose to, exchanging that with a front row seat to the details of the politicization of their livelihoods.
Noname has stepped back from music since the end of her tour for her debut studio album, Room 25, but maintains an active presence on social media where she is constantly advocating for the liberation of individuals from capitalism, imperialism, colonialism, and oppression as a whole. During this revolution, she has been a voice to follow. Alongside her opinions and educational takes, she also reminds us all of our humanity expressing that the most important thing about change is growth, and that growth is supposed to be difficult. In a tweet posted on July 7, 2020, she lists the mistakes that she has made in her career and states, “let this be a reminder that growth is an embarrassing but necessary process”. Another tweet made that same day reads, “i think its non-productive to feel shame/guilt around holding ideas that have been implanted in us since infancy. it’s not our fault we’ve been conditioned to the standards of a white supremacist capitalist nation but eventually we have to challenge ourselves beyond this standard”.
Noname’s Twitter presence played a large role in the birth of her latest single, Song 33. This song is an explicit example as to how her livelihood as a Black woman is a matter of controversy. It was released in response to criticism from rapper J. Cole who expressed his feelings in the form of an unwarranted diss track, where he was evidently rattled by Noname’s criticism of fellow successful black artists who had been seemingly quiet in wake of the new wave of the Black Lives Matter Movement. In his track, Snow on Tha Bluff, he refuses to take in the validity of Noname’s constructive criticism that was directed towards many people who should be her peers in the music industry, and instead takes it quite personally and completely misses Noname’s point in the first place.
Despite the conflict being bigger than him, J. Cole’s defensive rebuttal towards his apparent adversary attacks her on the basis of her upbringing, suggesting that it aided in her “wokeness” and that she should actively consider those who did not have such privileges to avoid coming off as “holier than thou”. He states, “Just 'cause you woke and I'm not, that shit ain't no reason to talk like you better than me/How you gon' lead, when you attackin' the very same niggas that really do need the shit that you sayin'?/Instead of conveyin' you holier, come help us get up to speed”. In her one minute and ten second response, she starts her first verse with “I saw a demon on my shoulder, it's lookin' like patriarchy” referring to the way that J. Cole is nitpicking her opinions under the belief that it’s her obligation to educate him on her beliefs, despite the fact that he is a grown man who reaps the benefits of tiptoeing around criticism with the safety net of the patriarchy and is a college graduate.
His actions exemplify the existing notion that individuals who are stuck between intersections of oppression hold some strange obligation to teach others about why their struggles are real. Despite his claims that Noname is more educated than him, that is not her job— especially when Google exists. Additionally, Noname is not a college graduate so by society’s expectations, J. Cole should be more than capable of excelling to her level of understanding by his own volition.
Song 33 addresses many of the conversations that have come up with the massive influx of opinions on a very sensitive and complex topic: social and structural prejudice against Black bodies along with all of its branches and thorns. This wave of the Black Lives Matter Movement has brought up the criticism towards society, and particularly Black men, for their lack of noise when racially charged violence is imposed on Black women.
As Malcolm X famously stated, “the most neglected person in America is the Black woman.” To quickly brief this conversation, Black womxn are constantly hailed as being strong and selfless purveyors of truth and wisdom but are not respected as being simultaneously human with this virtuous position in society. Black womxn are constantly mocked by racist stereotypes while simultaneously framed as being undesirable by Black men, encouraging the same behavior by non-Black people as a result. This song reflects specifically the nuanced misogynistic relationship between Black women and Black non-men, exemplifying the way that even when “the world is in smokes”, the patriarchy allows men to still find a way to center themselves and criticize the way that Black womxn move regardless of whether or not they were asked to follow. I am awaiting the moment when Noname becomes memorialized among the other lyrical geniuses of her caliber such as Kendrick Lamar, Frank Ocean, and Earl Sweatshirt. Her work is required reading for the revolution and Song 33 is a good place to start.
While Noname’s discography is a good example of revolution in art, Song 33 is also a good example of the distinction between revolution in art and art in revolution. Song 33 was conceived through the events of the Minneapolis Uprising and the events that followed subsequently. One of those events in particular was the murder of nineteen year old activist, Oluwatoyin Salau. Her death highlighted the lack of protection for Black womxn and non-men against gender-based violence, alongside the dangers of visibility for organizers and activists related to the Black Lives Matter Movement.
While the conceptual nature of art born from revolution is somber, the work is still allowed to be beautiful. The work is allowed to be versatile and can produce joy or power or awareness or pain or all of the above. Currently, the main streets of every neighborhood in Minneapolis are vibrant with community art. Many pieces are paying tribute to George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and many other Black people who have been tragically murdered by the police. Messages of positivity and motivation decorate these tributes aiming to encourage all members of the community to continue showing up for their communities, reminding the citizens of Minneapolis that we are here for each other because we need to care beyond the obvious necessity. The roller coaster of emotions that I experience while biking or driving through Minneapolis is indescribable.
However, as explained through the brief analysis of J. Cole’s, Snow on Tha Bluff, art in revolution can be out of tune with the ideas of movement, as well as just straight up bad. Last week in Minneapolis, a mural was put up on a K-Mart located at the corner of Nicollet and Lake Street, right where the riots had occurred. This mural by artist, Christina Marie Gustafson, depicted an image what many call “copaganda” which is described as media designed to portray cops as “being uncomplicatedly friendly, heroic, and good.” Copaganda often attempts to emphasize how cops are still human despite the well known corruption of the police system, actively overlooking how they made the decision, as a human, to work for an oppressive system of brute force that criminalizes and kills other humans, specifically Black people, Indigenous People and people of color. The mural by Gustafson showed a scene of a Black person hugging a white cop that was captured on an iPhone, amidst the heavily militarized environment that means to challenge peaceful protest. On her Instagram, she titled this piece, Reconciliation, but it has also been referred to as, Love Your Enemy. Captioning the post saying, “I did a thing…”, her instagram comments piled up with backlash towards her “thing”, and its inappropriate nature.
Courtesy of Christina Marie (@christina.marie.g on Instagram)
Regardless of how you may feel towards police abolition, it must be understood that attempts to uplift the voice of police actively overshadows the voices of the Black community. The oppressor and the oppressed are not meant to be on the same level, the concept of oppression relies on the existence of hierarchy. The Gustafon mural fuels the conversation of the value of personal intention versus public and community impact which has popped up with the influx of art during this period of revolution. While Christina Marie Gustafon may have had good intentions, they were ignorant and under-educated which led to a negative impact upon the community that she entered.
Despite the everyday struggles to understand how best to express oneself, I encourage you to actively spit on the pretension around artistic endeavour. Art’s true value lies in the value to the artist. The pretension comes from the elitism that creates an exclusive and false sense of authentic artistry. Additionally, art does not have to be shared. Anything you make, artistic or not, has the right to belong to you and remain private to you. Art is for everyone and I encourage everyone to explore all that it is for the rest of your lives. Never stop! It is a necessity to support our own strengths and propel our vigorous spirits by supporting our emotions and actively making the time to do so. On the night that Minneapolis was set ablaze, I found myself struggling to hold in my thoughts from going all over the place. This poem that I’ve shared below was an attempt to organize some of them. If you have art to share, please send it my way either to my personal Instagram (@zoechallenger) or here at Trash Mag (@trashmagtrashmag)!
Read this poem I wrote…
The Shakespearean Tragedy of the American Tale
many ogle at the tragedy that is the american tale;
the animals outside peer into the cages
guarded by screens with a hypnotic blue haze,
to see choreographed images of members of their own kind
in a performance riddled with the destiny of failure.
once upon a time, the waltz of false truths
had projected prosperity by the name of God
whose american identity made Him second to none.
and by his blessing, no animal was forced to understand
the woes of the good in reference to the bad.
but when the music was stopped
and cold feet seized the continuation of the beat,
a prelude intertwining fear and utmost necessity
revealed the tragic hero of the Black man,
whose message was loud and clear:
“america should’ve never been built
beneath the light of a total eclipse. for
its selfish desires masking a totalitarian gaze
should’ve never been a secret the moon had to bear;
its allegiance to the sun is not worth a few stars and stripes.”
and in its all encompassing power, the light must be shown.
no longer will there be limited view to the facade
that the wealthy of all kinds have used to grow.
but the Black man is the hero that he did not ask to be; he is
a being like all behind the cages, and onlookers who pretend to be free.
we is (to them),
all are we (to them),
isn’t funny how you and me?
how you try to say the tragic hero represents
all of our sun kissed bodies?
only when we can get a smile out of it,
maybe even a shiny tooth or two for you.
most just might forget how we did not ask
to so willingly open our Black bodies for all to see
bleeding red, but without white or blue.
the demise of the american mammal
was never too good to be true.
perfection is a game where all players are bound to lose.
such a pity to see us all die as pawns
to the misunderstandings of right and wrong.
those who have forsaken vulnerability in all american faces
have led us to the valley of death. but by her mighty tongue
my deviant life does not rely on if, but rather when.
so miss america, when your time comes,
shall i save you a seat where the sun won’t shine?
5.26.2020
Credits:
Haylock, Zoe. Why Is J. Cole Coming for Noname? 18 June 2020, www.vulture.com/2020/06/j-cole-noname-snow-on-tha-bluff.html.
Waxman, Olivia B. “The History of Police in America and the First Force.” Time, Time, 6 Mar. 2019, time.com/4779112/police-history-origins/.
Armbruster, Jessica. “Most Hated Kmart in America Gets Most Hated Mural in Minneapolis.” City Pages, City Pages, 9 July 2020, www.citypages.com/arts/most-hated-kmart-in-america-gets-most-hated-mural-in-town/571691981.
Warner, Fatimah Nyeema. “Song 33.” Spotify, 19 June 2020, open.spotify.com/track/1LvDHPfTpEMjgox22jxqSW?si=LWBDt6-zRwuDrFtlHYHjaw.
Warner, Fatimah. “Noname – Song 33.” Genius, 18 June 2020, genius.com/Noname-song-33-lyrics.
Cole, Jermaine. “J. Cole – Snow on Tha Bluff.” Genius, 16 June 2020, genius.com/J-cole-snow-on-tha-bluff-lyrics.
Cole, Jermaine. “Snow On Tha Bluff.” Spotify, 16 June 2020, open.spotify.com/track/1oOEkBNp4zWnkD7nWjJdog?si=K0MuUsfdSyu7vQdGnBYTEQ.
Warner, Fatimah Nyeema. “i Think Its Non-Productive to Feel Shame/Guilt around Holding Ideas That Have Been Implanted in Us since Infancy. It's Not Our Fault We've Been Conditioned to the Standards of a White Supremacist Capitalist Nation but Eventually We Have to Challenge Ourselves beyond This Standard.” Twitter, Twitter, 7 July 2020, twitter.com/noname/status/1280505529752784897.
Warner, Fatimah. “Awful Mistakes I've Made during My Career...- Calling Myself Noname Gy*Sy- Performing in Israel Instead of Being in Solidarity with Palestinian Struggle for Liberation - Saying Capitalism Wasn't Evillet This Be a Reminder That Growth Is an Embarrassing but Necessary Process.” Twitter, Twitter, 7 July 2020, twitter.com/noname/status/1280500326609674243.
Duckworth, Kendrick Lamar. “Untitled Unmastered.” Spotify, 4 Mar. 2016, open.spotify.com/album/0kL3TYRsSXnu0iJvFO3rud?si=egEkEtUnTw6SrSmNvG4mig.
Duckworth, Kendrick Lamar. “PRIDE.” Spotify, 14 Apr. 2017, open.spotify.com/track/6IZvVAP7VPPnsGX6bvgkqg?si=BaSQUV3JTOuzCGg_kk6Dxg.
