Juan Logan: Pleasure and Power

Juan Loganpleasure & power

HELP ME, SAVE ME, LOVE ME

2012

“Help Me, Save Me, Love, Me,” 2009, mixed media, 5’ x 16’

3

Juan Loganpleasure & power

HELP ME, SAVE ME, LOVE ME

2012

“Help Me, Save Me, Love, Me,” 2009, mixed media, 5’ x 16’

andrew w. kahrlPLEASURE & POWER

“Sag Harbor,” 2009, mixed media, 30” x 42”

SAG HARBOR Highlandbeach

“Highland Beach,” 2008, mixed media, 24” x 30”

The works in “Leisure Space” ask how the waterways of the Jim Crow era speak to the spatiality of race in modern America. Individually, the paintings refer to the separate beaches and resorts African Americans developed and defended in the era of segregation. Collectively, they ask us to consider the relationship between landscapes of pleasure and the production of power. In the age of Jim Crow, African Americans were barred from most public and private beaches (except in a service capacity) and struggled to even acquire separate sections of the shore for themselves. Public swimming pools were similarly reserved for whites only, only open to blacks on the day before keepers emptied the pool’s water. In rural areas, rivers and lakes served as the watery graves of countless numbers of murdered black bodies, and places blacks utilized for fishing and pleasure with caution and trepidation. Stereotypes of blacks’ dirty, diseased, and oversexualized bodies gave cover for practices of exploitation and subjugation. These daily humiliations served to remind blacks of their second-class citizenship, and vested poor and middle-class whites with the symbols of status and superiority, often in place of real power or significant resources.

Historically, landscape paintings have served a similar function in reinforcing, and not simply reflecting, relations of power and subordination. The landscape painting tradition, as it emerged in fourteenth-century Western Europe, conveyed moral and religious messages through recreating familiar environments in the image of power, emphasizing certain people and places, distorting and obliterating others. Maps, likewise, worked to impose a visual order on the physical environment that served the interests of the cartographer. Enlightened Europe at the center--enlarged, detailed, and advanced.

5

andrew w. kahrlPLEASURE & POWER

“Sag Harbor,” 2009, mixed media, 30” x 42”

SAG HARBOR Highlandbeach

“Highland Beach,” 2008, mixed media, 24” x 30”

The works in “Leisure Space” ask how the waterways of the Jim Crow era speak to the spatiality of race in modern America. Individually, the paintings refer to the separate beaches and resorts African Americans developed and defended in the era of segregation. Collectively, they ask us to consider the relationship between landscapes of pleasure and the production of power. In the age of Jim Crow, African Americans were barred from most public and private beaches (except in a service capacity) and struggled to even acquire separate sections of the shore for themselves. Public swimming pools were similarly reserved for whites only, only open to blacks on the day before keepers emptied the pool’s water. In rural areas, rivers and lakes served as the watery graves of countless numbers of murdered black bodies, and places blacks utilized for fishing and pleasure with caution and trepidation. Stereotypes of blacks’ dirty, diseased, and oversexualized bodies gave cover for practices of exploitation and subjugation. These daily humiliations served to remind blacks of their second-class citizenship, and vested poor and middle-class whites with the symbols of status and superiority, often in place of real power or significant resources.

Historically, landscape paintings have served a similar function in reinforcing, and not simply reflecting, relations of power and subordination. The landscape painting tradition, as it emerged in fourteenth-century Western Europe, conveyed moral and religious messages through recreating familiar environments in the image of power, emphasizing certain people and places, distorting and obliterating others. Maps, likewise, worked to impose a visual order on the physical environment that served the interests of the cartographer. Enlightened Europe at the center--enlarged, detailed, and advanced.

6

“Oak Bluffs, MA”2009, mixed media36” x 48”

lincoln beach

“Lincoln Beach”2008, mixed media,48” x 60”

Darkened Africa at the margins--indefinite, undeveloped, exploitable. In the age of conquest and enslavement, landscape paintings and family portraits became important tools of mastery for the nascent planter class. Like maps, they hid as much as they revealed--the plantation house, absent the slave quarters; the master’s family, not his chattel.1

“Leisure Space” builds on Logan’s previous interventions in these mechanisms of power. In the exhibition, “Prop Master,” at the Gibbes Museum of Art in Charleston, South Carolina, Logan and Susan Harbage Page juxtaposed photographs of African Americans in the classic, portrait tradition with paintings of slaveholders with whom they shared the same last name.2 Likewise, the works in “Leisure Space” shift our perspective, and consequently reshape the meaning, of Jim Crow’s—and our—landscapes of leisure. Logan contrasts the serene, tropical Lake Pontchartrain in “Lincoln Beach” (2008), evocative of a postcard from a novelty store or the cover of a travel brochure, with the toxic brew that pours from its breeched levees in “Lake Pontchartrain” (2008).

1 See Sharon Zukin, “Landscapes of Power: From Detroit to Disney World” (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991)

2 “Prop Master: An Installation by Juan Logan and Susan Harbage Page,” Gibbes Museum of Art, Charleston, S.C. (April 3, 2009 – July 19, 2009)..

With a shift in our perspective, an exotic, inviting landscape becomes menacing and deadly, just as the harmonious, homogeneous white leisure spaces of Jim Crow America become, through the haunting presence of faceless heads, discordant and disorienting. Through these formal techniques, Logan seeks to make the familiar unfamiliar, and to reveal the faces and places, contaminants and vulnerabilities, that landscapes of power work to obscure.

Logan’s stylistic elements speak to his understanding of space in the manufacturing of blackness and whiteness.

7

“Oak Bluffs, MA”2009, mixed media36” x 48”

lincoln beach

“Lincoln Beach”2008, mixed media,48” x 60”

Darkened Africa at the margins--indefinite, undeveloped, exploitable. In the age of conquest and enslavement, landscape paintings and family portraits became important tools of mastery for the nascent planter class. Like maps, they hid as much as they revealed--the plantation house, absent the slave quarters; the master’s family, not his chattel.1

“Leisure Space” builds on Logan’s previous interventions in these mechanisms of power. In the exhibition, “Prop Master,” at the Gibbes Museum of Art in Charleston, South Carolina, Logan and Susan Harbage Page juxtaposed photographs of African Americans in the classic, portrait tradition with paintings of slaveholders with whom they shared the same last name.2 Likewise, the works in “Leisure Space” shift our perspective, and consequently reshape the meaning, of Jim Crow’s—and our—landscapes of leisure. Logan contrasts the serene, tropical Lake Pontchartrain in “Lincoln Beach” (2008), evocative of a postcard from a novelty store or the cover of a travel brochure, with the toxic brew that pours from its breeched levees in “Lake Pontchartrain” (2008).

1 See Sharon Zukin, “Landscapes of Power: From Detroit to Disney World” (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991)

2 “Prop Master: An Installation by Juan Logan and Susan Harbage Page,” Gibbes Museum of Art, Charleston, S.C. (April 3, 2009 – July 19, 2009)..

With a shift in our perspective, an exotic, inviting landscape becomes menacing and deadly, just as the harmonious, homogeneous white leisure spaces of Jim Crow America become, through the haunting presence of faceless heads, discordant and disorienting. Through these formal techniques, Logan seeks to make the familiar unfamiliar, and to reveal the faces and places, contaminants and vulnerabilities, that landscapes of power work to obscure.

Logan’s stylistic elements speak to his understanding of space in the manufacturing of blackness and whiteness.

8

“Wasting Away”2010

mixed media72” x 96”

Exaggerated, racialized silhouettes of heads, representative of the minds from which actions on people and nature emanate, form the bodies of water and land masses. Pastel-colored floral patterns, layered in a grid-like pattern, constitute the background of Logan’s paintings, and speak to the literal mapping of race onto the built environment. Works refer to the Negro and “colored” beaches born under segregation. Some remain, a few thrive, others gone and forgotten, many dismantled and gentrified. All of their histories speak, in unique ways, to the interplay of race and capital in modern America. Through light and darkness, layering and scale, Logan maps out these contested spaces. Aerial views of abstract forms on top of busy, yet predictable, patterns force us to confront a separate and unequal landscape we often choose to ignore, and render invisible, on the ground, in our daily lives. Shapes and forms enter and exit the sides of Logan’s paintings, offering an immediacy and intimacy that prevent critical distance. Depth, like water, floods the viewer, engulfing and implicating.

WASTING AWAY

9

“Wasting Away”2010

mixed media72” x 96”

Exaggerated, racialized silhouettes of heads, representative of the minds from which actions on people and nature emanate, form the bodies of water and land masses. Pastel-colored floral patterns, layered in a grid-like pattern, constitute the background of Logan’s paintings, and speak to the literal mapping of race onto the built environment. Works refer to the Negro and “colored” beaches born under segregation. Some remain, a few thrive, others gone and forgotten, many dismantled and gentrified. All of their histories speak, in unique ways, to the interplay of race and capital in modern America. Through light and darkness, layering and scale, Logan maps out these contested spaces. Aerial views of abstract forms on top of busy, yet predictable, patterns force us to confront a separate and unequal landscape we often choose to ignore, and render invisible, on the ground, in our daily lives. Shapes and forms enter and exit the sides of Logan’s paintings, offering an immediacy and intimacy that prevent critical distance. Depth, like water, floods the viewer, engulfing and implicating.

WASTING AWAY

10

“Rainbow Acres”2008mixed media36” x 48”

RAINBOW ACRES

From below, featureless faces stare up. Stylized references to nature, in the form of cheap wallpaper found in a summer cottage (ironically, our only taste of realism), suggest our role in manufacturing and attempting to control our natural (and human) environments, while explicit references to Hurricane Katrina speak to the human misery and environmental degradation that the acting of these darker human impulses have wrought. Logan uses leisure space to explore the mechanisms of power and control because it is when we are at play and at rest we express our longings and our fears in clearest form. It is where individual and group identities are formed, social capital exchanged, power and privilege realized, and race made.

11

“Rainbow Acres”2008mixed media36” x 48”

RAINBOW ACRES

From below, featureless faces stare up. Stylized references to nature, in the form of cheap wallpaper found in a summer cottage (ironically, our only taste of realism), suggest our role in manufacturing and attempting to control our natural (and human) environments, while explicit references to Hurricane Katrina speak to the human misery and environmental degradation that the acting of these darker human impulses have wrought. Logan uses leisure space to explore the mechanisms of power and control because it is when we are at play and at rest we express our longings and our fears in clearest form. It is where individual and group identities are formed, social capital exchanged, power and privilege realized, and race made.

12

“Dim Sum Trading”2008mixed media36” x 48”

13

“Ideal Environments”

Public leisure spaces, as many scholars have noted, played a formative role in the creation of a “white” America in the first half of the twentieth century. The great “democratic” places of amusement that developed, quite often, along urban shorelines broke down previously rigid class, ethnic, and gender divisions through reinforcing racial ones. Excluded as participants, African Americans’ presence--as cooks, servers, entertainers, and objects of ridicule—served an important function. Within these settings, African Americans’ “place,” and the script they were forced to perform, proved fundamental to whites’ own sense of status. In Atlantic City, as the historian Bryant Simon recounts, working-class whites of all ethnicities enjoyed a momentary taste of an imagined upper-class status through their scripted encounters with African Americans, who carried their bags to their rooms, provided their musical entertainment and sensual pleasures, and pulled them down the Boardwalk in rickshaws.3

dim sum trading“Dim Sum Trading”2008mixed media36” x 48”

3 Bryant Simon, “Boardwalk of Dreams: Atlantic City and the Fate of Urban America” (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004).

14

Mark Haven Beach“Mark Haven Beach,” 2008, mixed media, 36” x 48”

Nearly a half-century since the death of Jim Crow, America remains a separate and unequal society, no more so than on the beaches and in the pools that we flock to in the summer months. The desegregation of public beaches and swimming pools in the 1960s precipitated the rise of private swimming clubs and seaside resorts and the steady demise of public leisure space in America. The changing face of America’s coasts mirrors that of racial inequality, experienced less through explicit barriers and petty prejudices and more through the spatiality of everyday life and structural mechanisms of exclusion. The practical exclusion of the poor and people of color from many leisure spaces, meanwhile, remains firmly in place. This past summer, in July 2009, a private swimming club in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, evicted a group of young African American day campers for fear they might “change the complexion” of the pool. “When the minority children got in the pool all of the Caucasian children immediately exited,” one witness reported.

Idlewild Lake

“Idlewild Lake,” 2008mixed media, 30” x 42”

16

“Ink Well Beach,” 2008mixed media, 48” x 60”

“Fox Lake, Angola,” 2009mixed media, 48” x 60”

“Ink Well Beach,” 2008mixed media, 48” x 60”



18

“The pool attendants came and told the black children

that they did not allow minorities in the club

and needed the children to leave immediately.”4

As the recent incident in Philadelphia reminds us,

segregation was never about ensuring physical separation.

(Can you imagine white club members reacting in

horror to the presence of an African American

attendant, pool cleaner, or concessionaire?) Rather, it

was driven by the fear of democratic leisure spaces facilitating social equality

and, in the process, eroding the sense of status and privilege working and

middle-class whites derived through their

places of play.

“Gulfside UMA,” 2008, mixed media, 24” x 30”

gulFside uma

4 “Club in Philadelphia Suburb Faces Accusation of Racism,” New York Times, July 10, 2009.

Perhaps no leisure space better illustrates the relationship between pleasure and power than New Orleans, the subject of several of the pieces in this exhibit. In “Help Me, Save Me, Love Me” (2009), atomized puzzle pieces, representing evacuees from Katrina’s rising waters, lay scattered around a red cross representing the Superdome, a Mecca of games and amusement that doubled as a place of last resort. While the tattered red cross encapsu-lates a governing model that prized business and commerce over security and compassion, a façade in place of an infrastructure, the pieces of an unfinished puzzle embodies New Orleanians’—and our—frustrated search for community, accountability, and collective responsibility in an age of individualism, privatization, and dwindling civic imagination, when the poorest and most vulnerable are told to rely on themselves for their own salvation, and when government works to mask poverty and criminalize and incarcerate its victims--out of sight of the pleasure-seeking tourists--rather than address the fundamental sources of the city’s—and the nation’s—shocking and persistent inequalities. Some of the pieces lay with their backs facing up, painted in the color Ghost Gray, to represent the dead bodies that floated to the surface of the storm’s fetid waters and into the consciousness of an American public who only knew of New Orleans as a place of revelry and debauchery, not poverty and deprivation.

19

“The pool attendants came and told the black children

that they did not allow minorities in the club

and needed the children to leave immediately.”4

As the recent incident in Philadelphia reminds us,

segregation was never about ensuring physical separation.

(Can you imagine white club members reacting in

horror to the presence of an African American

attendant, pool cleaner, or concessionaire?) Rather, it

was driven by the fear of democratic leisure spaces facilitating social equality

and, in the process, eroding the sense of status and privilege working and

middle-class whites derived through their

places of play.

“Gulfside UMA,” 2008, mixed media, 24” x 30”

gulFside uma

4 “Club in Philadelphia Suburb Faces Accusation of Racism,” New York Times, July 10, 2009.

Perhaps no leisure space better illustrates the relationship between pleasure and power than New Orleans, the subject of several of the pieces in this exhibit. In “Help Me, Save Me, Love Me” (2009), atomized puzzle pieces, representing evacuees from Katrina’s rising waters, lay scattered around a red cross representing the Superdome, a Mecca of games and amusement that doubled as a place of last resort. While the tattered red cross encapsu-lates a governing model that prized business and commerce over security and compassion, a façade in place of an infrastructure, the pieces of an unfinished puzzle embodies New Orleanians’—and our—frustrated search for community, accountability, and collective responsibility in an age of individualism, privatization, and dwindling civic imagination, when the poorest and most vulnerable are told to rely on themselves for their own salvation, and when government works to mask poverty and criminalize and incarcerate its victims--out of sight of the pleasure-seeking tourists--rather than address the fundamental sources of the city’s—and the nation’s—shocking and persistent inequalities. Some of the pieces lay with their backs facing up, painted in the color Ghost Gray, to represent the dead bodies that floated to the surface of the storm’s fetid waters and into the consciousness of an American public who only knew of New Orleans as a place of revelry and debauchery, not poverty and deprivation.

20

the black pearl

“The Black Pearl”2009, mixed media, 48” x 60”

The presence of the Superdome in a series that explores leisure space offers a bitter, ironic commentary on the steps leading to the tragedy that unfolded in September 2005. Conceived in 1966 and completed in 1971, the Superdome exemplified the pro-growth ethos of the city’s post-Jim Crow civic and corporate leadership. More than any other Southern city, New Orleans staked its future in the desegregated South on a manufactured image as a place of cultural diversity, racial inclusivity, and

leisure. The Big Easy: a city too sensual to hate, an exotic dreamscape for those seeking to step outside the boundaries of social conventions. This façade, so essential to New Orleans’s reintegration into the nation’s economy, masked a less savory history of endemic poverty and oppression of the city’s black population, conditions that, despite the promises of its promoters, the tourism and convention trade did little to solve.

21

the black pearl

“The Black Pearl”2009, mixed media, 48” x 60”

The presence of the Superdome in a series that explores leisure space offers a bitter, ironic commentary on the steps leading to the tragedy that unfolded in September 2005. Conceived in 1966 and completed in 1971, the Superdome exemplified the pro-growth ethos of the city’s post-Jim Crow civic and corporate leadership. More than any other Southern city, New Orleans staked its future in the desegregated South on a manufactured image as a place of cultural diversity, racial inclusivity, and

leisure. The Big Easy: a city too sensual to hate, an exotic dreamscape for those seeking to step outside the boundaries of social conventions. This façade, so essential to New Orleans’s reintegration into the nation’s economy, masked a less savory history of endemic poverty and oppression of the city’s black population, conditions that, despite the promises of its promoters, the tourism and convention trade did little to solve.

22“Angola, Indiana,” 2009, mixed media, 36” x 48”

ang

ola

india

na

23

Prior to Katrina, the city’s poor and the dispossessed were hidden in plain sight. They were the dishwashers who labored in the kitchens of the city’s numerous, and much celebrated, restaurants; the maids who changed the sheets and scrubbed the floors of the hotel rooms; the sanitation workers who scooped up beer bottles and hosed down vomit; or the reserve of unemployed workers whose presence on the margins kept wages in the service-based economy low. Their labor, and their poverty, made others’ leisure possible, and affordable. Their relegation to crumbling homes and housing projects in the city’s low-lying neighborhoods, far from the innocent eyes of pleasure-seeking tourists, maintained the illusion. Logan explores this dynamic in the piece, “I Almost Didn’t See You” (2008). In this work, head figures, cut from the same material as the wallpaper that form the backdrop, fade in and out of view, depending on the perspective of the viewer and the arrangement of the lighting. Through these formal elements, Logan peels away a thin veneer of fantasy and pleasure to expose a shocking, and widening, gap between wealth and poverty that has accompanied the emergence of our modern, consumer-driven economy.

The hard work that leisure industries devote to making the poor and people of color invisible mirrors the hard work that civil engineers have devoted to making volatile andmobile shorelines appear timeless, contained, and suitable for development.

PL

EA

SUR

E&

PO

WE

R

24

blackeden

“Black Eden,” 2008, mixed media, 48” x 60”

Several of the works in Leisure Space juxtapose strategies to control, contain, and exploit African Americans under Jim Crow to ongoing efforts to stabilize, bring order to, and extract profits from inherently unstable coastal environments. In “Lincoln Beach” (2008), Logan presents a marvel of modern engineering, environmental domestication, and, not coincidentally, social order. The completion of levees along Lake Pontchartrain’s southern shore in the 1920s transformed the city’s physical and social geography. It led to the rise of new residential subdivisions, exclusive yacht clubs, and a modern, whites only amusement park along the lakefront, while spelling the demise of the working class, multi-racial and ethnic Bohemian subcultures that once thrived along the shores. In this work, the inviting, blue waters of Lake Pontchartrain are effectively contained by the levees that line its banks, thus providing the city’s residents and visitors a safe and predictable exotic paradise in place of an unruly environment that lived by its own rules. Likewise, the city’s blacks are contained along a remote stretch of shore (designated Lincoln Beach by city fathers), far from the burgeoning residential and recreational havens that the levees made possible.

chowan beach

“Chowan Beach,” 2008, mixed media, 48” x 60”

blackeden

“Black Eden,” 2008, mixed media, 48” x 60”

Several of the works in Leisure Space juxtapose strategies to control, contain, and exploit African Americans under Jim Crow to ongoing efforts to stabilize, bring order to, and extract profits from inherently unstable coastal environments. In “Lincoln Beach” (2008), Logan presents a marvel of modern engineering, environmental domestication, and, not coincidentally, social order. The completion of levees along Lake Pontchartrain’s southern shore in the 1920s transformed the city’s physical and social geography. It led to the rise of new residential subdivisions, exclusive yacht clubs, and a modern, whites only amusement park along the lakefront, while spelling the demise of the working class, multi-racial and ethnic Bohemian subcultures that once thrived along the shores. In this work, the inviting, blue waters of Lake Pontchartrain are effectively contained by the levees that line its banks, thus providing the city’s residents and visitors a safe and predictable exotic paradise in place of an unruly environment that lived by its own rules. Likewise, the city’s blacks are contained along a remote stretch of shore (designated Lincoln Beach by city fathers), far from the burgeoning residential and recreational havens that the levees made possible.

chowan beach

“Chowan Beach,” 2008, mixed media, 48” x 60”

“Some Clouds Are Darker”2011, mixed media72” x 96”

Constructed by the city in response to blacks’ growing demands for leisure space along the lake, Lincoln Beach aimed to secure the pleasure and profits white citizens, city officials, and developers derived from the new lakefront. Indeed, isolation of the city’s black citizens, like the isolation and containment of the lake’s unruly waters, was fundamental to the creation and maintenance of these manufactured landscapes.

Similar themes emerge in the “Black Pearl” (2009). In this work, an orange bar extends into the water, a reference to the literal rope that served to contain black pleasure-seekers along South Carolina’s Grand Strand and, by extension, define the boundaries and spatiality of blackness. As captured by the camouflage colors of the beach, Logan is interested in the relationshipbetween white segregationists’ acts of social engineering and the Army Corps of Engineers’ civil engineering of American coastlines. The fortifications built to prevent coastal erosion and render beachfront areas fit for recreation and residential development are, like the rope, driven by the desire to maximize profit and minimize liabilities. Race, space, and capital are, Logan suggests, mutually constitutive parts in the making and re-making of the built and “natural” environment. Strategies to control the land are inseparable from those designed to control people. On the painting’s right, a menacing dark mass (representative of Hurricane Hazel, which in 1954 devastated the coast) lurks offshore, and threatens to engulf the coast. Ironically, though the storm wiped away the rope as well as the homes and businesses whose value it sought to protect, it left the ideas that inspired real estate development, coastal management, and racial segregation firmly intact.

somecloudsaredarker

27

“Some Clouds Are Darker”2011, mixed media72” x 96”

Constructed by the city in response to blacks’ growing demands for leisure space along the lake, Lincoln Beach aimed to secure the pleasure and profits white citizens, city officials, and developers derived from the new lakefront. Indeed, isolation of the city’s black citizens, like the isolation and containment of the lake’s unruly waters, was fundamental to the creation and maintenance of these manufactured landscapes.

Similar themes emerge in the “Black Pearl” (2009). In this work, an orange bar extends into the water, a reference to the literal rope that served to contain black pleasure-seekers along South Carolina’s Grand Strand and, by extension, define the boundaries and spatiality of blackness. As captured by the camouflage colors of the beach, Logan is interested in the relationshipbetween white segregationists’ acts of social engineering and the Army Corps of Engineers’ civil engineering of American coastlines. The fortifications built to prevent coastal erosion and render beachfront areas fit for recreation and residential development are, like the rope, driven by the desire to maximize profit and minimize liabilities. Race, space, and capital are, Logan suggests, mutually constitutive parts in the making and re-making of the built and “natural” environment. Strategies to control the land are inseparable from those designed to control people. On the painting’s right, a menacing dark mass (representative of Hurricane Hazel, which in 1954 devastated the coast) lurks offshore, and threatens to engulf the coast. Ironically, though the storm wiped away the rope as well as the homes and businesses whose value it sought to protect, it left the ideas that inspired real estate development, coastal management, and racial segregation firmly intact.

somecloudsaredarker

28

“Lake Pontchartrain”2008, mixed media36” x 48”

Years later, developers would cite the “big one” as the source of the Grand Strand’s subsequent emergence as a prominent vacation destination; the destruction of acres of forests and rows of outdated buildings allowed for the golf course and hotel building boom that followed.

“Our Kind of People”

Just as Katrina and Hazel gave the lie to the Army Corps of Engineers’ supposed triumph over nature, whites’ strategies of containment and control were in constant tension with African Americans’ efforts to utilize the spaces segregation made to transgress and circumvent racial boundaries, and to secure dignity and status, pleasure and profit. Behind the orange bar in “The Black Pearl” (2009) lay Atlantic Beach. Founded by George Tyson, an African American laundromat owner, Atlantic Beach became a hub of black summer life on the otherwise all-white Grand Strand, and an incubator of black enterprise. The hotels, restaurants, clubs, and cottages sprouted up behind the color line, welcoming vacationing black families, domestics laboring in nearby white summer homes, and touring R&B acts. 5 In New Orleans, Lincoln Beach similarly emerged as a hub of postwar black youth culture, hosting local musicians, radio deejays, and beauty pageants on the beach’s pavilion. “Chowan Beach” (2008), located on the Chowan River in Hertford County, North Carolina, became a place where black farmworkers flocked after a long week in the field to relax, unwind, and express themselves on the sand and the dance floor without fear of retribution.

Lake Pontchartrain

5 See Nicole King, ___ (Athens: University of Georgia Press, forthcoming).

29

“Lake Pontchartrain”2008, mixed media36” x 48”

GraciaReal deSantaTeresade Mosé

“Gracia Real de Santa Teresa de Mosé”2008, mixed media48” x 60”

6 For a critical assessment of the black upper class and racial uplift in the age of Jim Crow, see Kevin K. Gaines, Uplifting the Race: Black Leadership, Politics, and Culture in the Twentieth Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996).

Other, more exclusive “Negro” beaches and resorts became stages where middle and upper-class African Americans performed notions of respectability and racial uplift. In “Sag Harbor” (2009), Logan uses the color green to explore black leisure spaces in the manufacturing of social hierarchy, then and now. Representative of that hackneyed phrase glibly deployed by ostensibly color-blind white liberals today (“I don’t care if you’re white, black, green, or purple, just so long as you act right”) to mask their own prejudices and fears, the juxtaposition of the green and black heads in this piece suggest that middle and upper-class blacks, much like the working-class whites on Atlantic City’s Boardwalk, derived their own sense of privilege, distinction, and status through leisure, defining themselves as worthy of equal treatment under the law by accentuating who they were not, namely, noisy, disreputable blacks presumably non-deserving of first-class citizenship. In so doing, they reified the very myths of race and black inferiority such performances sought to combat. 6

Class differentiation, as the places Logan chooses as his subjects remind us, has long shaped the contours of black America, resulting in wide and often conflicting differ-ences in black public opinion, behavior, and understandings of what was best for “the race.” Confined to segregated, impoverished residential districts that bore no respect for status or respectability, the middle-class and elite blacks who purchased summer cottages in these burgeoning “colored colonies” implemented their own forms of class segrega-tion behind the color line. Founded on the Chesapeake Bay’s western shore in the 1890s, as elite blacks’ hopes for a social pecking order based on class and not race withered and Jim Crow took root, “Highland Beach” (2008) exemplified the class and cultural pretensions of the turn-of-the-twentieth-century Talented Tenth. Only the oldest and most distinguished families could expect to be welcomed to this sandy shore. (It was rumored that prospective residents first had to pass the fabled “Brown Paper Bag” test to purchase property.)

31

GraciaReal deSantaTeresade Mosé

“Gracia Real de Santa Teresa de Mosé”2008, mixed media48” x 60”

6 For a critical assessment of the black upper class and racial uplift in the age of Jim Crow, see Kevin K. Gaines, Uplifting the Race: Black Leadership, Politics, and Culture in the Twentieth Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996).

Other, more exclusive “Negro” beaches and resorts became stages where middle and upper-class African Americans performed notions of respectability and racial uplift. In “Sag Harbor” (2009), Logan uses the color green to explore black leisure spaces in the manufacturing of social hierarchy, then and now. Representative of that hackneyed phrase glibly deployed by ostensibly color-blind white liberals today (“I don’t care if you’re white, black, green, or purple, just so long as you act right”) to mask their own prejudices and fears, the juxtaposition of the green and black heads in this piece suggest that middle and upper-class blacks, much like the working-class whites on Atlantic City’s Boardwalk, derived their own sense of privilege, distinction, and status through leisure, defining themselves as worthy of equal treatment under the law by accentuating who they were not, namely, noisy, disreputable blacks presumably non-deserving of first-class citizenship. In so doing, they reified the very myths of race and black inferiority such performances sought to combat. 6

Class differentiation, as the places Logan chooses as his subjects remind us, has long shaped the contours of black America, resulting in wide and often conflicting differ-ences in black public opinion, behavior, and understandings of what was best for “the race.” Confined to segregated, impoverished residential districts that bore no respect for status or respectability, the middle-class and elite blacks who purchased summer cottages in these burgeoning “colored colonies” implemented their own forms of class segrega-tion behind the color line. Founded on the Chesapeake Bay’s western shore in the 1890s, as elite blacks’ hopes for a social pecking order based on class and not race withered and Jim Crow took root, “Highland Beach” (2008) exemplified the class and cultural pretensions of the turn-of-the-twentieth-century Talented Tenth. Only the oldest and most distinguished families could expect to be welcomed to this sandy shore. (It was rumored that prospective residents first had to pass the fabled “Brown Paper Bag” test to purchase property.)

paradiselake

“Paradise Lake”2008, mixed media48” x 60”

7 Willard B. Gatewood, Aristocrats of Color: The Black Elite, 1880-1920 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990). 8 Juan Logan, interviewed by Andrew Kahrl (July 7, 2009).

“If You Control the Water, You Control the Land” —Juan Logan

For Juan Logan’s family and other black Southerners who came of age under Jim Crow, land ownership constituted an important measure of social power and personal control. It offered black families one of the few layers of protection from the indignities and exploitations that marked their daily encounters with Jim Crow. In Belmont, North Carolina, Logan’s grandfather accumulated nearly 70 acres of farmland in South Point, near the confluence of the South Fork and Catawba River. As mechanization and the growth of agricultural conglomerates put small-scale farming to bed, and as highway construction brought Belmont ever closer to Charlotte, developers targeted the rural, black-owned farmlands of South Point for the construction of wealth subdivisions replete with rural aesthetics and charm. Over the past several decades, Logan has watched as the black-owned land of this once rural area has steadily fallen into the hands of developers and middle-class, mostly white, families. The banks of the river where Logan swam as a child in lieu of the segregated, whites only swimming pool in town now commands some of the highest real estate value in the area.8 The transformation of South Point, and its impact on black landownership, is all too common. As the Sunbelt economy boomed, and the region’s population mushroomed, land values in coastal areas and along inland waterways skyrocketed. During these years, African Americans witnessed their political power grow as their landholdings, that source of power and autonomy

under Jim Crow, shrank. Coastal property that, under Jim Crow, was deemed invaluable and unwanted, and that offered blacks a temporary refuge from a hostile, racist society, became prime real estate and the path of least resistance. In cooperation with civic officials and the courts, developers targeted black-owned property for middle-class residential and recreational developments, and the promotion of lifestyles centered on consumption—of goods, services, and nature. Black property owners often proved little match for these corporate-civic juggernauts, who casually claimed black-owned land by eminent domain and condemnation, or exploited legal loopholes to force partition sales of family holdings. Like the manufactured, repetitive images that wallpaper the backdrops of Logan’s works, these new coastal developments work to tame nature by identifying and copying its most attractive and profitable elements. They simulate natural environments and deliver them, pre-packaged, to the consumer, paying homage to the coastal ecologies they threaten to destroy, and often affixed with names such as Plantation Estates that evoke a history its former inhabitants would like to forget. These modern coastal landscapes reflect a willful ignorance of the limits of nature and a refusal to preserve the past except as artifice. Moreover, they shed light on the modern face of spatial segregation, accomplished less through brute force and explicit barriers and more through sophisticated methods of design and planning, surveillance and dispersal.

The quest for seclusion and exclusivity—from unwelcome, uncouth blacks as much as (if not more so than) from neighboring whites—was written onto the physical landscape. Low-lying trees so effectively canopied its entrance that few outside the small circle of residents knew the village’s precise location, much less where to enter. Sequestered along this small stretch of shore, elite blacks produced their own lines of difference and distinction behind an ever-hardening color line. Here, on warm summer evenings, elite black families put on what the historian Willard Gatewood called the “genteel performance,” in conscious contrast to the Ragtime bands who played aboard the “common” Negro riverboat excursions that occasionally floated past on the Chesapeake, and who, in “respectable” blacks’ minds, confirmed whites’ most base stereotypes of black culture and justified the repressive measures and derisive stereotypes that ensnared them all.7 As the form and content of these works suggest, the making of black beaches and resorts was inseparable from the making of Jim Crow. Along the Grand Strand, as elsewhere, blacks’ claims to any coastal property were tenuous, and the line dividing Atlantic from

Myrtle Beach merely a reminder of their proscribed status and exclusion from the body politic. Moreover, the social institutions blacks created behind the color line, in the spaces at their disposal, could not obscure the fact that the social capital they accumulated among themselves possessed little value outside these separate and unequal enclaves. For all the high culture nurtured within, Highland Beach was, fundamentally, the product of an inequitable, undemocratic, and racially hierarchical society, and as such, occupied an uncertain place on the landscape of post-Jim Crow America. As it was for summertime residents of Idlewild, Sag Harbor, or Highland Beach in previous generations, an afternoon along once segregated shores became, for some African Americans, an important gauge of success, of moving up and making it in America.

33

paradiselake

“Paradise Lake”2008, mixed media48” x 60”

7 Willard B. Gatewood, Aristocrats of Color: The Black Elite, 1880-1920 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990). 8 Juan Logan, interviewed by Andrew Kahrl (July 7, 2009).

“If You Control the Water, You Control the Land” —Juan Logan

For Juan Logan’s family and other black Southerners who came of age under Jim Crow, land ownership constituted an important measure of social power and personal control. It offered black families one of the few layers of protection from the indignities and exploitations that marked their daily encounters with Jim Crow. In Belmont, North Carolina, Logan’s grandfather accumulated nearly 70 acres of farmland in South Point, near the confluence of the South Fork and Catawba River. As mechanization and the growth of agricultural conglomerates put small-scale farming to bed, and as highway construction brought Belmont ever closer to Charlotte, developers targeted the rural, black-owned farmlands of South Point for the construction of wealth subdivisions replete with rural aesthetics and charm. Over the past several decades, Logan has watched as the black-owned land of this once rural area has steadily fallen into the hands of developers and middle-class, mostly white, families. The banks of the river where Logan swam as a child in lieu of the segregated, whites only swimming pool in town now commands some of the highest real estate value in the area.8 The transformation of South Point, and its impact on black landownership, is all too common. As the Sunbelt economy boomed, and the region’s population mushroomed, land values in coastal areas and along inland waterways skyrocketed. During these years, African Americans witnessed their political power grow as their landholdings, that source of power and autonomy

under Jim Crow, shrank. Coastal property that, under Jim Crow, was deemed invaluable and unwanted, and that offered blacks a temporary refuge from a hostile, racist society, became prime real estate and the path of least resistance. In cooperation with civic officials and the courts, developers targeted black-owned property for middle-class residential and recreational developments, and the promotion of lifestyles centered on consumption—of goods, services, and nature. Black property owners often proved little match for these corporate-civic juggernauts, who casually claimed black-owned land by eminent domain and condemnation, or exploited legal loopholes to force partition sales of family holdings. Like the manufactured, repetitive images that wallpaper the backdrops of Logan’s works, these new coastal developments work to tame nature by identifying and copying its most attractive and profitable elements. They simulate natural environments and deliver them, pre-packaged, to the consumer, paying homage to the coastal ecologies they threaten to destroy, and often affixed with names such as Plantation Estates that evoke a history its former inhabitants would like to forget. These modern coastal landscapes reflect a willful ignorance of the limits of nature and a refusal to preserve the past except as artifice. Moreover, they shed light on the modern face of spatial segregation, accomplished less through brute force and explicit barriers and more through sophisticated methods of design and planning, surveillance and dispersal.

The quest for seclusion and exclusivity—from unwelcome, uncouth blacks as much as (if not more so than) from neighboring whites—was written onto the physical landscape. Low-lying trees so effectively canopied its entrance that few outside the small circle of residents knew the village’s precise location, much less where to enter. Sequestered along this small stretch of shore, elite blacks produced their own lines of difference and distinction behind an ever-hardening color line. Here, on warm summer evenings, elite black families put on what the historian Willard Gatewood called the “genteel performance,” in conscious contrast to the Ragtime bands who played aboard the “common” Negro riverboat excursions that occasionally floated past on the Chesapeake, and who, in “respectable” blacks’ minds, confirmed whites’ most base stereotypes of black culture and justified the repressive measures and derisive stereotypes that ensnared them all.7 As the form and content of these works suggest, the making of black beaches and resorts was inseparable from the making of Jim Crow. Along the Grand Strand, as elsewhere, blacks’ claims to any coastal property were tenuous, and the line dividing Atlantic from

Myrtle Beach merely a reminder of their proscribed status and exclusion from the body politic. Moreover, the social institutions blacks created behind the color line, in the spaces at their disposal, could not obscure the fact that the social capital they accumulated among themselves possessed little value outside these separate and unequal enclaves. For all the high culture nurtured within, Highland Beach was, fundamentally, the product of an inequitable, undemocratic, and racially hierarchical society, and as such, occupied an uncertain place on the landscape of post-Jim Crow America. As it was for summertime residents of Idlewild, Sag Harbor, or Highland Beach in previous generations, an afternoon along once segregated shores became, for some African Americans, an important gauge of success, of moving up and making it in America.

9 See Bruce J. Schulman, From Cotton Belt to Sunbelt: Federal Policy, Economic Development, and the Transformation of the South, 1938-1980 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991); and Kent B. Germany, New Orleans after the Promises: Poverty, Citizenship, and the Search for the Great Society (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2007).

10 See, for example, “Sorrow in the Sunshine,” Economist, July 9, 2009, http://www.economist.com/world/unitedstates/displaystory.cfm?story_id=13998632 11 John A. Jakle and David Wilson, Derelict Landscapes: The Wasting of America’s Built Environment (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 1992). 12 Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2001).

Both Hurricane Katrina and the steady demise of the African American beaches Logan explores in these works testify, in related ways, to broader changes in the Southern, national, and global economy from the post-Jim Crow era to the collapse of the U.S. housing market in 2008. As the post-World War II South integrated into the national and global economy, Jim Crow became a growing liability. (It was no coincidence that black freedom fighters targeted public beaches for wade-ins during the peak of vacation season, when seaside hotels were filled with tourists. The civil rights movement was geared as much toward creating a more just and equitable economic order as awakening the moral conscience of America; indeed, one was inseparable from the other.) In the late 1960s and 1970s, Southern states quickly—and remarkably—embraced racial integration as part of a broader, pro-business, pro-growth economic agenda. During a time when Northern cities were plagued by urban uprisings, busing crises, and violent resistance to residential integration, the South projected an image of racial tolerance and mobility. Cities such as Atlanta and New Orleans elected African American mayors, and economic and educational opportunities for middle-class blacks grew exponentially. Indeed, the façade of equal opportunity and inclusiveness (and, in New Orleans, cultural diversity and exoticism) proved fundamental to the region’s reinvention. The Sunbelt South promised prosperity to its booming population through low taxes, lax regulation of industries, weak labor laws, and relentless exploitation of natural resources, especially its pristine coastlines. (Its seeming success

offered a political and economic model the rest of the nation would scramble, with varying degrees of success, to imitate.) But as witnessed in New Orleans, the region’s post-Jim Crow political and economic transformation was geared more toward masking poverty, and erasing it from these landscapes of leisure, than meeting the demands for economic justice that inspired the civil rights movement. The collapsed levees that sent poor, mostly black New Orleanians running for shelter in the Superdome exemplified the crumbling infrastructure behind the city’s—and the nation’s—façade of progress and growth. They, like Logan’s paintings, bore witness to a vernacular landscape that the official one had quite purposely rendered invisible.9 The cookie-cutter homes, nicely manicured golf courses, and endless rows of corporate chain stores that line much of the Southern coast, in contrast, exemplify the excesses of an unsustainable growth model peddled by private developers and public officials, and consumed by an American public hungry for a taste of the good life that a house by the sea seemed to promise, and an economy built on cheap credit seemed to provide. In Florida, the bursting of the housing bubble exposed an economy almost entirely dependent on endless migration and a perpetually vibrant tourist industry for its growth.10 Along the state’s eastern seaboard, rows of empty condos lie where untamed wilderness and scattered, small-scale beach communities once stood. Condemned and redeveloped so as to maximize their best possible use, these coastlines now threaten to become another in a growing number of “derelict landscapes” as capitalism

retrenches.11 Its former residents, meanwhile, lie scattered across the country, like the pieces of Logan’s unfinished puzzle. Like the evacuees from Katrina, the victims of the housing crisis search in vain for community in an age of individualism, and mutuality in the midst of predation. Collectively, the works in “Leisure Space” challenge us to consider how changes in the practice and experience of racial inequality have, over time, been shaped by changes in the political economy of leisure, and how the spatiality of coasts and waterways shapes, and not merely reflects, race and power in America. If we accept the view that leisure spaces constitute an important setting for the exchange of what the political scientist Robert Putnam labeled “social capital,” then the persistence of racial separatism in places of play, and the effective exclusion of inner-city African Americans from the privileged pool clubs and beach resorts enjoyed by middle-class white Americans (as witnessed in Philadelphia), is not just a reminder that we have not yet gotten over race, but evidence of our more

fundamental failure to achieve a truly democratic society.12 In assessing the lessons of this ugly incident from our present, and relating it to our past, we would be wise to focus less on the overt act of racial discrimination itself and more on the structural forces that colored this and other private swimming pools and beaches white and public ones blacks, and led to the concentration of resources and social connections within the former at the expense of thelatter. Therein lies the powerful message behind Logan’s visual forms: that race is made through the spaces we occupy and the opportunities and disadvantages they entail. The segregation of waterways under Jim Crow was not some irrational product of now-vanquished racial fears, but instead was an integral part of a system of economic exploitation that embedded symbols of racial power into the land itself. That these symbols remain with us today, informing where we play and with whom, testifies to Faulkner’s oft-quoted line, “The past is not dead. In fact, it’s not even past.”

35













36

Andrew W. Kahrl is an assistant professor of history at Marquette University. He received his Ph.D. in history from Indiana University in 2008. Andrew has received fellowships and support from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and American Council of Learned Societies, the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities, the North Caroliniana Society, the Southern Historical Collection at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, the Institute for Southern Studies at the University of South Carolina, and the John Hope Franklin Research Center at Duke University, and is the recipient of 2007 Louis Pelzer Memorial Award from the Organization of American Historians. Articles based on his research have been published in the Journal of American History and the Journal of Social History. He and his wife, Aileen, live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Juan Logan’s artworks address subjects relevant to the American experience as a whole. At once abstract and representational, his paintings, drawings, sculptures, installa-tions, prints, and videos address the interconnections of race, place, and power. They make visible how hierarchical relations and social stereotypes shape individuals, institutions, and the material and mental landscapes of contemporary life. For instance, the silhouette of a head, which appears in many of his works, confronts the viewer to implicate him/her in the politics of social space, even in galleries and museums.

He has exhibited nationally and internationally, and has participated in over three hundred solo and group exhibitions. Logan’s works can be found in private, corporate, and public collections, including the Whitney Museum of American Art, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Gibbes Museum of Art, the Baltimore Museum of Art, the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, the Zimmerli Museum of Art, the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art, and the Weatherspoon Art Museum.

37

JUAN LOGAN

EDUCATION: M.F.A. Maryland Institute, College of Art, Baltimore, Maryland - 1998 – Painting/Mixed- Media Sculpture

SELECTED SOLO EXHIBITIONS2012 Juan Logan: Without Stopping, paintings, brochure Weatherspoon Art Museum, Greensboro, North Carolina Juan Logan: Pleasure and Power, paintings, catalogue Barton Art Galleries, Barton College, Wilson, North Carolina

2009 Juan Logan: Leisure Space, paintings, catalogue Gantt Center for African American Arts and Culture, Charlotte, North Carolina Prop Master: An Installation by Juan Logan with Susan Harbage Page Gibbes Museum of Art, Charleston, South Carolina

2007 Juan Logan: Notes and Observations, paintings, catalogue Rocky Mount Arts Center at the Imperial Centre, North Carolina

2006 Juan Logan: The Third Place, Paintings, Drawings and Sculptures 1996 – 2006, catalogue, Tweed Museum of Art, Duluth, Minnesota Juan Logan: Caught Off Guard, Selected Works from 1965-2005, paintings and works on paper, catalogue, Sturgis Gallery of Art, Kennesaw State University, Georgia

2005 Juan Logan: Close Inspection, installations, catalogue Sumter Gallery of Art, Sumter, South Carolina Juan Logan: Full Disclosure, paintings, sculpture, installations, catalogue Greenville County Museum of Art, South Carolina

2003 Juan Logan: Whose Song Shall I Sing?, paintings and sculpture, catalogue City Gallery at Waterfront Park, Charleston, South Carolina

2002 Juan Logan: Whose Song Shall I Sing?, paintings and sculpture, catalogue Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art, Colorado Juan Logan: Whose Song Shall I Sing?, sculpture Michigan Avenue Galleries, Chicago Cultural Center, Illinois

2000 Juan Logan: Other Considerations, prints Trahern Gallery, Austin Peay State University, Clarksville, Tennessee Juan Logan: Unconscious Bias, sculpture, catalogue Gallery of Art and Design, North Carolina State University, Raleigh Juan Logan: Reliquaries, sculpture The World Bank, District of Columbia Juan Logan: A Selection of Prints From The 90s’ The Print Center, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS2010 The Narcissism of Minor Differences, Curated by Gerald Ross and Christopher Whittey Decker and Meyerhoff Galleries, Maryland Institute, College of Art, Baltimore

(Jane Alexander, William Anastasi, Jonathan Borofsky, Mary Coble, Patricia Cronin, Sam Durant, Melvin Edwards, Maria-Theresa Fernandes, Francisco de Goya, Leon Golub, Philip Guston, Juan Logan, Stephen Marc, Jaune Quick-To-See-Smith, Rigo 23, Roee Rosen, Karina Aguilera Skvirsky)Mixing Metaphors: The Aesthetic, the Social, and the Political in African American Art, Guest Curator: Deborah WillisGallery of Art, Howard University, Washington, District of Columbia(Romare Bearden, Dawoud Bey, John Biggers, Sam Gilliam, Jacob Lawrence, Juan Logan, Whitfield Lovell, Julie Mehretu, Faith Ringgold, Robert Sengstaacke, Chuck Stewart, James VanDerZee, Lorna Simpson, Carrie Mae Weems, Fred Wilson, Ernest C. Withers, among others)On the Mark: Contemporary Works on Paper, Curated by Ann ShaferBaltimore Museum of Art, Maryland (Astrid Bowlby, Annabel Daou, Tara Donovan, Ann Hamilton, Ellsworth Kelly, Juan Logan, Vik Muniz, Gerhard Richter, Koo Kyung Sook)

2009 Collected McColl Center for Visual Arts, Charlotte, North Carolina Kaleidoscope: Changing Views of the Permanent Collection Cameron Art Museum, Wilmington, North Carolina, African American Currents: Contemporary Art from the Bank of America Collection 40 Acres Art Galley, Sacramento, California Living African American Artists of North Carolina, catalogue Greenville Museum of Art, North Carolina Selections from the Permanent Collection Tweed Museum of Art, Duluth, Minnesota

2008 Strength In Numbers: Artists Respond to Conflict Sragow Gallery, New York, New York Landscape of Slavery: The Plantation In American Art, catalogue, traveling exhibition University of Virginia Art Museum, Charlottesville Gibbes Art Museum, Charleston, South Carolina Morris Museum of Art, Augusta, Georgia Art and Social Conscience: The Holocaust Cameron Art Museum, Wilmington, North Carolina

38

2007 Innovations: Recent Editions from the Brodsky Center Rupert Ravens Contemporary, Newark, New Jersey Glimpse SACI Gallery (Studio Art Centers International), Florence, Italy Dashangzi Art Festival HuanTie International Arts Center, Beijing, China

2006 Unstitched, Unbound; Imprints for Change Nathan Cummings Foundation, New York

2005 Quickening Museum of Contemporary Art, Tucson, Arizona Noah’s Ark, catalogue TsingHua University Art Gallery, Beijing, China Homegrown: Southeast, catalogue Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art, Winston-Salem, North Carolina First Beijing International Art Camp Open Exhibition, catalogue Suojiacun Art Center, Beijing, China Road in Sight, catalogue Duke University, Durham, North Carolina

2004 A History of Color Greenville County Museum of Art, South Carolina Prevalence of Ritual African American Museum of Nassau County, Hempstead, New York Art in the South: The Charleston Perspective Gibbes Museum of Art, Charleston, South Carolina Sum Parts: From The Permanent Collection, Curated by Ana Vejzovic Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, Memphis, Tennessee

(Joseph Albers, Blythe Bohnen, Chuck Close, Jenny Holzer, Jasper Johns, Glen Ligon, Juan Logan, Ed Ruscha, S.M.S., Lorna Simpson, Frank Stella, Juergen Strunch, Jack Tworkov, Carrie Mae Weems and Andy Warhol)

2003 The Felt Moment Columbia Museum of Art, South Carolina Passing, catalogue Mint Museum of Art, Charlotte, North Carolina New South, Old South, Somewhere in Between Levine Museum of the New South, Charlotte, North Carolina Contemporary Western North Carolina: Works On Paper Asheville Museum of Art, North Carolina

2002 Biennial Exhibition: On Paper, Collaborations in Print and Pulp, catalogue Memphis College of Art, Tennessee A New Paradigm School 33 Art Center, Baltimore Maryland

Shadows & Silhouettes: The Dangerous Faces of Willie Cole and Juan Logan Memphis College of Art, Tennessee Native Voices: New Jersey and Westward: The Rutgers Center for Innovative Print and Paper Fellowship Exhibition Mason Gross School of the Arts Galleries, New Brunswick, New Jersey

2001 Facing Each Other: Prints Concerning Identity from the Rutgers Center for Innovative Print and Paper

Painted Bride Art Center, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Homegrown Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art, Winston-Salem, North Carolina Visibilities: Recent Prints by Radcliffe Bailey, Hung Liu and Juan Logan Tippy Stern Fine Art, Charleston, South Carolina

2000 An Exuberant Bounty: Prints and Drawings by African Americans Philadelphia Museum of Art, Pennsylvania Culture of Class: Issues of Class in North American Culture Decker & Meyerhoff Galleries, Maryland Institute, College of Art

Baltimore

SELECTED PUBLIC COLLECTIONS

Ackland Art Museum, University of North Carolina at Chapel HillAljira, A Center for Contemporary Art, Newark, New JerseyArt in Embassies Program, Lome, TogoArt in Embassies Program, Pretoria, South AfricaAsheville Art Museum, North CarolinaAtlanta Fulton Public Library, Atlanta, GeorgiaBaltimore Museum of Art, MarylandBoulder Museum of Contemporary Art, ColoradoCameron Art Museum, Wilmington, North CarolinaCrocker Art Museum, Sacramento, CaliforniaDavidson College, North CarolinaGantt Center for African American Art and Culture, Charlotte, North CarolinaGibbes Museum of Art, Charleston, South CarolinaGreenville County Museum of Art, Greenville, South CarolinaHammonds House Galleries, Atlanta, GeorgiaHenry Copeland Art Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel HillInternational Arts and Artists, Washington, District of ColumbiaJohnson C. Smith University, Charlotte, North CarolinaJohns Hopkins University, Weinberg Building, Baltimore, MarylandJohn Michael Kohler Art Center, Sheboygan, WisconsinMemphis Brooks Museum of Art, TennesseeMint Museum of Art, Charlotte, North Carolina

39

Morris Museum of Art, Augusta, GeorgiaMuseum of African-American Art, Los Angeles, CaliforniaMuseum of Art, North Carolina Central University, DurhamNational Gallery, Harare, ZimbabweNational Museum of African Art, District of ColumbiaNorth Carolina Arts Council, Artworks for State Buildings, Raleigh, North CarolinaNorth Carolina A & T State University, GreensboroMary and Leigh Block Museum of Art, Northwestern University, Evanston, IllinoisPhiladelphia Museum of Art, PennsylvaniaRobbins Center for Cross Cultural Communications, Washington, District of ColumbiaSoutheast Arkansas Arts and Science Center, Pine BluffThe New York Public Library, New YorkTubman African American Museum, Macon, GeorgiaTweed Museum of Art, Duluth, MinnesotaWeatherspoon Art Museum, Greensboro, North CarolinaWhitney Museum of American Art, New York, New YorkWinston-Salem State University, North CarolinaJane Voorhees Zimmerli Museum of Art, Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey, New Brunswick

BIBLIOGRAPHYSELECTED BOOKS AND CATALOGUES

Becker, Howard S., Faulkner, Robert R., and Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Barbara. (Editors) Art from Start to Finish: Jazz, Painting, Writing, and Other Improvisations.Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2006. (ISBN: 0226040852)

Britton, Crystal A. African American Art, The Long Struggle. Smithmark Publishers, New York, 1996, September 30, 2005. (ISBN: 1597641057)

Curnow, Kathy. Juan Logan: Notes and Observations The Arts Center at the Imperial Centre, Rocky Mount, North Carolina: 2007. (ISBN: 978-0-9794306-0-2)

Curnow, Kathy. Juan Logan: The Third Place - Painting, Drawings and Sculpture 1996-2006. Duluth: Tweed Museum of Art, 2006. (ISBN: 1-889523-33-X)

Harris, Michael D. Colored Pictures: Race and Visual Representation. University of North Carolina Press, 2002. (ISBN: 0807827606)

King-Hammond, Leslie. Effective Sight: The Paintings of Juan Logan, Green Hill Center for North Carolina Art. Greensboro, 1995. (ISBN: 0964823403)

Lewis, Samella. African American Art and Artists. University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London, 1990. Revised and Expanded Edition, March 18, 2003. (ISBN: 0520239350)

Lineker, Bruce. Civil Rights Now. Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art, Winston-Salem, 1995.(Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 95-69097) (ISBN: 0-9611560-7-4)

Mack, Angela D. and Hoffius, Steven G. (Editors), Landscape of Slavery: The Plantation in American Art. University of South Carolina Press, 2008. (ISBN-10: 1570037205) (ISBN-13: 978-1570037207)

Williams, Lyneise. Juan Logan: Full Disclosure, Greenville County Museum of Art,Greenville, 2005. (ISBN: 0-9603246-9-0)

Williams, Lyneise. Juan Logan: Close Inspection, Sumter Gallery of Art, Sumter, 2005. (ISBN: 0-9774195-0-9)

Williams, Lynesie. Juan Logan: Caught Off Guard, Sturgis Art Gallery, Kennesaw State University, Georgia, 2006. (ISBN: 0-9777179-1-7)

ISBN: 978-0-615-60096-3Juan Logan: Pleasure and PowerCatalogue Designer: Andrew MaddoxArt Imagery Photography: Mitchell KearneyPortrait Photography: Susan Harbage PageProduced by Barton College Museum PressGeneral Editor: Susan Fecho

This project was supported by a grant from the Arts Council of Wilson through the North Carolina Arts Council Grassroots Arts Program with funding from the state of North Carolina which believes that a great nation deserves great art.

Documents

Juan Logan: Pleasure and Power