The Sonic Undercommons: Sound Art in Radical Black Arts Traditions

This chapter responds to Sara Ahmed’s powerful assertion that ‘to account for racism is to offer a different account of the world’ (Ahmed, 2012). Its premise is that artists of colour have been largely neglected within existing accounts of sound art, and that sound art discourses would change substantially if they accounted for the work of such artists as Terry Adkins, Charles Gaines, Jennie C. Jones, George Lewis, Mendi + Keith Obadike, Clifford Owens, Benjamin Patterson, and Adrian Piper, among many others. Focusing in particular on the sound works of African American artists, this article investigates what Lock and Murray (2009) have described as a racially biased ‘selective hearing’ in relation to emerging canons of sound art. It puts under pressure sound art histories—purported traditions, genres, aesthetic lineages, genealogies—and, equally, confronts the philosophical and intellectual paucity that has resulted from the lack of critical and scholarly attention to the work of black artists. What is missing from ‘whiteness-imbued histories’ (Lewis, 2012) of sound art? How does selective hearing limit what we know and understand about sound art, and how we come to know it?

Memories Are Made of This

This essay considers the cultural implications of a brief period in the life of New York’s Brill Building, America’s second Tin Pan Alley, a transformative moment in R&B that involved music performed by African American artists but written by songwriters committed to “Jewish Latin.” Recorded on 45 rpm vinyl, circulated in jukeboxes and on radio in new Top 40 radio formats, this sound formed young taste, and, in the bargain, its commercial cycles produced staggered temporal segments that shaped feeling and memory for a generation. One’s sense of life history, of history itself, was time-coded by what we heard and how we heard it, with some interesting implications.

Our Heroes: African American Artists and Images in the American Comic Book

This chapter contains a 1992 exhibition catalog essay for Black Ink: African American Cartoonist Showcase at the Cartoon Art Museum (San Francisco), written by the late comics and television writer Dwayne McDuffie (Ben 10, Justice League Unlimited, Milestone Media), who shares a heartfelt childhood story of his discovery of the world of the Black Panther and the citizens of Wakanda, and the importance of racial representation in both life and art. Black Ink was a survey show curated by Rochon Perry, featuring work by over fifty African American cartoonists with a spotlight on Jackie Ormes’s comic Torchy Brown.

Strategies for Visualizing Cultural Capital

This chapter examines the ways in which the portrait was utilized as a tool for social change as it presented the accumulation of knowledge, skills, and consciousness of Chicago’s black entrepreneurs and became a distinctive form of cultural capital. Positioning themselves as models for emulation, Robert S. Abbott, Jesse Binga, and Anthony Overton generated public campaigns that visualized the dignity, style, and progressiveness essential to the conceptualization of the New Negro. They worked to establish an ethic of representation that countered the unconscionable effacement of civil rights. By patronizing African American artists and publishing their portraits in Chicago’s burgeoning black press, they lent their likenesses toward the formation of a modern collective black identity.

Radical Black Theatre in the New Deal

Between 1935 and 1939, the United States government paid out-of-work artists to write, act, and stage theatre as part of the Federal Theatre Project (FTP), a New Deal job relief program. In segregated “Negro Units” set up under the FTP, African American artists took on theatre work usually reserved for whites, staged Black versions of “white” classics, and developed radical new dramas. In this fresh history of the FTP Negro Units, Kate Dossett examines what she calls the Black performance community—a broad network of actors, dramatists, audiences, critics, and community activists—who made and remade Black theatre manuscripts for the Negro Units and other theatre companies from New York to Seattle. Tracing how African American playwrights and troupes developed these manuscripts and how they were then contested, revised, and reinterpreted, Dossett argues that these texts constitute an archive of Black agency, and understanding their history allows us to consider Black dramas on their own terms. The cultural and intellectual labor of Black theatre artists was at the heart of radical politics in 1930s America, and their work became an important battleground in a turbulent decade.