By Christina Nafziger

Images courtesy of Claire Oliver Gallery

I hesitate to use the phrase “a force to be reckoned with” when describing the work of Bisa Butler. It’s an overused expression, one that does not capture the distinctive importance and brilliance—brilliant in the sense of being smart and masterful, but also when referring to the vibrant hues that adorn her quilt portraits. In her practice, Butler creates life size portraits of African-Americans through the underappreciated tradition of quilting. Yes, her work is a ‘force,’ a potent, spirited energy that is alive in each patch, thread, and square of her quilts; a force that is exemplified in the title of her current solo exhibition at Claire Oliver Gallery: The Storm, the Whirlwind and the Earthquake. These words come from a speech by Frederick Douglass, who explains that we need forces as powerful as these to shake up the nation and make real change for racial justice, a message as relevant as ever that can be felt in Butler’s work.

“To be reckoned with.” Yes, again. To reckon with something is to confront, to acknowledge. The phrase refers to something too strong to be ignored. That is what Bisa Butler so beautifully creates: portraits that look you in the eyes, that portray and document, that tell someone’s story. Her quilted portraits began with her family, capturing a likeness of her grandfather. Now her works, including all of the work in her current exhibition, are anonymous. The portraits are based on found photographs, giving a voice to the unnamed African Americans in history. Butler’s work archives their existence, giving them a platform to stand on that must be ‘reckoned with,’ as it cannot be ignored. When I see a piece by Butler, I may not know the name of the person she is portraying, but I will not soon forget their face. They are stoic, monumental, full of rich detail in both the expressiveness of the subject and the pulsating patterns. There are voices in the fabric, and they will be heard.

Join me as Bisa Butler generously shares her journey creating her powerful work woven with stories from her personal experiences and relationships.

Congratulations on your current solo exhibition The Storm, the Whirlwind and the Earthquake at Claire Oliver Gallery! Can you tell me a bit about the work in this exhibition? The title is so poetic. What inspired it?

My solo exhibit at the Claire Oliver Gallery is called The Storm, The Whirlwind, and the Earthquake which is an excerpt of a speech by Frederick Douglass given July 5th, 1852, which reads:

“For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced...”

I chose this because while researching subjects for my new collection I came across a photo of Frederick Douglass as I had never seen him before. I was used to seeing an elder statesman, the abolitionist, orator and writer, with a big gray afro and a stern look on his face. In the photo I found the stern look was still there, but so was youth, vitality, good looks and dapper clothing. I realized there was a whole aspect to Frederick Douglass that I had never realized was there. He wasn’t just a two dimensional heroic figure from the past— in this picture I could see more of Frederick Douglas, the man. In the photo I found Mr. Douglass was young and every bit as strong and foreboding as his later countenance. He was wearing an intricately tied cravat and a silk brocade vest. The afro was still present but resplendent with waves and curls. He peers out at us as a young man, but with deep conviction in his eyes, and deep lines in his skin that indicate a hard life.

Coming across this remarkable photo inspired me to read the Life and Times of Frederick Douglass and find out as much as I could about him. I was fascinated by this man who was almost 200 years ahead of his time in his denouncement of slavery and racism. The excerpt of the speech I chose was given to celebrate Independence Day when Mr. Douglass was asked to speak by the Rochester Ladies Anti Slavery Society. He titled his speech “What To The Slave Is the Fourth of July” because, while he was flattered to be asked to speak, slavery was still legal in the United States and to Southerners Frederick Douglass was still an escaped slave. The women’s organization possibly did not realize what irony it would be for a man to speak about an Independence Day that never intended to include him— our country was founded for the Free and the Brave while it hypocritically still held people as slaves. Many of the founding fathers were slave owners themselves.

The Storm, The Whirlwind and the Earthquake were what Frederick Douglass surmised would be needed to end slavery in this country, which would turn out to be true because the civil war began about 10 years later.

I titled my exhibit after this speech because I felt the power that emanated from my Frederick Douglass quilted portrait. I felt that he demanded his due and that the energy of my exhibit would be like a storm, an earthquake and a whirlwind. I had no idea how prophetic the title would be because two weeks after my exhibit opened, the Coronovirus hit New York City very hard, and then three months after that George Floyd was killed by police and the entire country erupted in protests against racial injustice.

Sewing and quilting is often a skill learned within the family, a talent passed down through generations. Was this your experience? Can you tell me about your personal relationship with this tradition?

I come from a family of people who sewed; my grandmother, mother and all six of her sisters knew how to sew. They were not quilters but were like many baby boomers, they sewed out of necessity and to enhance their homes and wardrobe. My mothers family was international and grew up between Morocco and New Jersey (my grandfather worked for the Foreign Service.) They saw Paris fashion magazines and designers and used their sewing machines to create cutting edge fashions in the 1960’s. This influence caused me to be interested in fashion and sewing in college in the 90’s, where I was an art major.

I remember before my 20th birthday I decided to sew a fitted ankle length sleeveless linen dress with a cowry shell choker style collar. I designed the dress myself and sewed it without a pattern while away at school. I was so proud of the dress I brought it to my grandmother’s house to show it off and she was so dismayed. She tried to explain to me that it wasn’t sewn properly, but I didn't want to hear it. That night while I was sleeping my grandmother got that dress out, completely deconstructed it and sewed it back correctly. When I woke up I saw that my dress was remade and I was so surprised and touched. I realized how much she loved me and that that craftsmanship was so important. My grandmother had stayed up all night in order to make sure that my birthday dress was done right, and I never forgot that lesson.

Do you personally know any of your subjects, or are they historical?

My very first quilted portrait was of my grandparents, and for many years after I created portraits of my family, friends, and famous African Americans. My mother was from New Orleans, and my father is from Ghana— his father died when he was a child and he didn't have any photos of him. I decided to find a vintage photo of an elderly Ghanaian man who may have looked like my grandfather and create a portrait based off of it. The photo I found was simply titled “Man from Upper Volta region.” That sparked a curiosity in me to discover more unnamed African and African American people and create narratives about them based on what I could ascertain. Now my subjects are mostly entirely unknown to me and I feel like it is my duty to bring as many of these unnamed peoples photos to the forefront. Maybe their own relatives will recognize them, and maybe people will see these ordinary folks as deserving of a spotlight, too.

I’m curious—do any of the patterns you use in your portraits hold significance?

Many of the African fabrics that I use have specific meaning. The manufacturers send their fabrics to be sold in the open-air markets in Africa where the local women name them based on what the patterns remind them of in their culture. For Instance a fabric that has images of a grade school primer on it is called “ABCD “ and men and woman wear it to symbolize that they are literate and value education. A fabric called “Jumping Horse” is used to symbolize the phrase “I Run Faster Than My Enemies,” or in other words, the wearer triumphs over adversaries. I use prints like these to reinforce the narrative I am trying to tell with my portraits. I also use silks, lace and velvet, which are traditional dressmakers fabrics because those are what my mother and grandmother used. I find that the types of fabrics help me communicate ideas; lace can make you think of something delicate, where as denim can make you think of durability.

The textile arts have been considered a craft for some time, with its place often being outside the canon. You use a medium that is often disregarded to create your work and tell the stories of African Americans—a group that has long been marginalized. Was this connection intentional?

I have a fine arts degree in painting but I never felt it connected with me. I was struggling to find my own voice when one of my professors at Howard University noted that I always dressed in a multitude of patterns and textures. One day he looked at my paint splattered combat boots and lace palazzo pants and suggested I use fabric in my work. He advised me to look at the collages of Romare Bearden and incorporate fabric into my paintings. It wasn’t until I was studying for my masters that I made my first quilt, abandoning the canvas all together. At this same time the Quilts of Gees Bend (a traveling exhibition of traditional African American quilts from Alabama) opened at The Whitney Museum of Art in New York. I saw these huge larger than life quilts hung on the walls of one of the worlds most celebrated museums and felt that anything was possible. I did not realize that quilts were not considered “fine art” because of the way I discovered them. I did not realize this was ground breaking for African American women to be a part of such a large highly respected exhibit, to me this seemed normal and obtainable.

I was a student who studied at the top rated Historically Black College, Howard University, studying under some of the most well respected and radical Black artists. Then I was a grad student studying in a fibers curriculum designed by primarily white feminist craft artists. I knew of no barriers and I have operated under that assumption ever since. I am representing my people; in subject and in medium. My patrons and gallerists were primarily African American for many years and I just recently started working with the Claire Oliver Gallery four years ago, opening up my artwork to mainstream audiences.

Your portraits are life size, allowing the viewer to see each person eye to eye. When the audience connects with your portraits, what kind of dialogue do you hope to facilitate through your work?

All of my figures are life sized because I want the viewer to look eye to eye with my subjects. I am trying to level the playing field between subject and viewer , past and present, black and white, living and deceased. I want my subjects to be acknowledged and respected as we all want to be. When you look at a subject in the eye, we are observing them from our present, but they are looking right back at us from the past. I want there to be a mutual communication and a question; who is on display? Us or them?

Most of my source images are taken from documentary photos from 1880-1940. Many of the subjects are not identified nor did many of them ever see their photos in their lifetimes. I want to their images to be acknowledged and respected as they may or may not have been in their lifetimes, what I do know is that they deserve better than being tucked away in a huge database; unseen and unknown.

Who (artist or not) has made the biggest impact on you as an artist?

I would say my parents have had the biggest impact on my development as an artist. My mother always encouraged my creativity and made sure me and my siblings went to schools that were arts focused. My mother genuinely liked what I created and used to let me tinker in the junk drawer and make all sorts of mixed media mini sculptures. She even let me draw my guardian angels on the wall of my room when I was three, so that I wouldn't be afraid to sleep in my own bed.

My father taught me to have an unwavering work ethic, and to do my best no matter what my task was. He was a college president for 37 years and taught us that your work will not always be easy or fun, but always do your best. His favorite phrase was “ If you are a street sweeper, be the best street sweeper.” He had many financial difficulties growing up and he always reminded us of how much we were lucky to have. To this date my father comes to every art exhibit of mine that he can and keeps up with my social media.

There are three artists whose careers and philosophies have shaped my outlook; Faith Ringgold, who is the worlds most renown quilt artist, and Elizabeth Catlett and Lois Maillou Jones, who were both successful artists who worked well into their late 90’s. All of these artists’ work is figurative, African/ African American influenced, explores mediums, and their work depicts their subjects with dignity. They each have and had families and have the bravery one will need to push forward even through adversity.