As they say, ‘necessity is the mother of invention,’ and the exhibit ‘Toward Joy: New Frameworks for American Art’ at the Brooklyn Museum exemplifies this in all that it has become. Drawing from centuries of art, Black feminist and BIPOC perspectives, living artists, Brooklyn Botanic Gardens staff, and drag queens, as well as 200 years of its own existence, this exhibit is a buffet of culture.
With a gust of wind from the Number 3 train ushering me up the stairs, I am greeted by the eclectic facade of the Brooklyn Museum. A quick stop at one of their themed photo booths is a fun diversion before I reach the elevator. Stepping out at the fifth floor, I enter a living room setup, decadently decorated with rich colors and books and art strewn around. It introduces visitors to the active conversation they are entering, an endeavor to understand the history of American art–as well as its future.
The Brooklyn Museum has long been known for its power in redefining cultural institutions; despite being the second largest museum in New York, their exhibitions focus on curating specific palates that shape viewers’ interpretations. Appreciating the racial and ethnic diversity of Brooklyn, the museum has held an attitude of bringing visitors into the stories they create. Rather than admiring art from a distance, the museum places emphasis on bringing the history and cultural importance of pieces to the present and showing their continued influence.
This attention to detail does not come without budgetary restraints, and the Brooklyn Museum has to make active choices during the creation of exhibits, staying aware of the message that they are sending to visitors. This is why the recent renovation of the American collection comes as such a surprise to viewers, having been last revised only eight years prior.
These renovations come with improvement, as the last exhibit was lambasted for being ‘too critical’ and ‘punishing’ of American history. Visitors felt as if they were being judged for their participation in American culture—knowing that the ugly histories of colonialism, global imperialism, slavery and genocide, and environmental damage are a part of the package—as the display sought to bring to light underrepresented voices with such vigor. The exhibit wasn’t seen as a celebration of the numerous cultural identities that make up the United States, but rather a bleak outlook on their suppression, in turn misrepresenting them.
However, with a change in curator–Stephanie Sparling Williams and her team assumed the role in 2021–and perspective comes evolution, and the Brooklyn Museum now breathes new life into exhibit pieces that were previously viewed as chains in the cog of American imperialism.
Vibrant and invigorating, the museum has focused on bringing in ‘new frameworks’, as the curators note in their press release. Rather than focusing solely on established movements, the curators highlight emerging artists, lesser-known art forms, and new practices that are reshaping the landscape of contemporary American art. This includes works that engage with social justice, environmental issues, race, gender, and the complexities of identity.
In this way, the exhibit proposes that art is a tool for engagement, transformation, and connection. These new perspectives allow for a more nuanced understanding of how art intersects with cultural, political, and social forces.
The exhibit is spread across eight galleries, each with a unique framework of observation spanning time, culture, and media of the Americas. The entrance from the elevator is almost a conversation pit, with comfortable seating and an array of curiosities tapped from Jannah and Kiyanna Handy of BLK MKT Vintage.
A blue, melancholic wave crashes as viewers enter the first gallery—the walls and all supporting structures for exhibition pieces are painted a deep royal blue. The exhibit is divided into sections that the curators call “frameworks.” The first, ‘Trouble the Water,’ explores the impact of water on a populace, for water functions as a means of freedom, transformation, and life. From the small puddle to the expansive ocean, water holds power over the lives of others and is incredibly moving, both literally and figuratively.
Grand harbors of colonial towns, industrial plants, and immigrant-fueled cities represent the role that water assumes in change, for better or worse. The same water that carried immigrants safely into a new life was also polluted by humans as America expanded economically. Viewers hear the rhythmic sloshing of water while viewing Louis Rémy Mignot’s ‘Niagara’ (1866), enabling them to immerse themselves in the exhibition and reflect on their reliance on water, with North and South America accounting for over 31% of the world’s freshwater supply.
The gallery also evaluates all that water has to offer. Water has played an unquestionable role in our development, being a source of livelihood in the form of fishing and giving life itself as numerous cultures created pots and jars to drink from. Both literal and figurative pieces are brought in to represent this— the museum has pottery from ancient Peruvian society and hands reaching out of the walls, holding trinkets from the sea.
In an abrupt transition, the next gallery under the framework ‘Radical Care’ is rooted in African diasporic and Indigenous ways of existence and observation. ‘The American (Art) Study’ forms a perceived library and laboratory, being a small, cavernous room within the gallery, in which cut-outs in the walls house artworks and publications that reflect the societal ideas of the pieces, giving a more in-depth history. Racial and class divisions are broken down and examined, their worthiness evaluated for historical importance and continued relevance.
The Brooklyn Museum started out as a library in 1825, and the museum’s history is what engages viewers. In this framework, syllabi taught by interdisciplinary scholars have been amassed as recommendations for visitors, and artwork is used as a means of physically representing the impact of historical ideals on the way different groups in society were viewed. The romanticized, rugged Americas and the Indigenous and enslaved people who built the country participate in the same culture, yet are perceived in a very different light.
Larger pieces are displayed surrounding the study, many of the works examining landscapes of the Americas. Colossal paintings and sculptures, representing all the huge spaces inhabited and uninhabited by humanity, show the full impact of global imperialism and colonialism in the Americas.
Flowers, often a gift and symbol of achievement, are what drive the third gallery, under the framework ‘To Give Flowers.’ Honoring innovative artists who may not have been in their own time, this exhibit partnered with the Brooklyn Botanic Garden to show a range of talents. While they might not have been overtly seen in the public eye, their light did shine brightly.
‘Counterparts,’ the next gallery, brings forth black and white and asks you to disregard their differences, instead viewing them as peers. The pieces within this room are of typically separated or seemingly opposite categories. This framework was inspired by ‘First Group Showing: Works in Black & White,’ a 1965 exhibit by the collective Spiral in response to the suppression of Black art, and ‘The Black and White Show,’ a 1983 exhibit curated by Black feminist Lorraine O’Grady on segregated art.
The salon-style presentation contained all sorts of artwork, ranging from sculpture to painting to dinnerware. Despite their only obvious uniting feature is their black and white palate, this gallery asks viewers to search below the surface, and look for interconnectedness across time periods, cultures, and scenarios.
Where it is possible to see two paintings as completely separate, distant, and unrelated, it is more often than not that they are intricately connected. For a painting consisting of linear half-shapes and another of an aging, grieving woman, the first impression is one of completely different styles, time periods, and meanings. However, upon closer inspection, it is possible to see the similarity in rigid, unmoving states of being and formality.
Figure drawing has been instrumental in the development of art style and understanding of the human body. The framework ‘Surface Tension’ at first appears to be a shocking room, filled with paintings and sculptures of nude portrayals. This often taboo topic is outrageous to many, yet this gallery is meant to elicit a reaction.
The gallery questions how culture, religion, and society have influenced the acceptance and worthiness of different human forms. Agency is brought into question as muses and figures more often than not are cast in a viewpoint that is not their own. The museum aims to call awareness to viewers preexisting beliefs on the human form across body positivity, sex work, and cultural differences. In the corner of this gallery, a digital screen invites visitors to draw, either modeling off of pieces on display or their rotating witnesses.
The following framework takes humanity and seeks to connect the past and present. ‘Several Seats’ gives visitors a modern perspective on portraiture of the past, citing drag culture and perspectives. A runway-esque room is decorated with park benches and historical portraits that are hung at eye level with the seating. New York City based drag and ballroom artists were then invited to spill the “T” (short for the truth) on these artworks which favored wealthy white subjects.
This gallery also displays the fine line between the privileged and the poor; utilizing chair designs from their decorative arts collection, the Brooklyn Museum is able to reveal the ways in which common furniture both unites and divides us. The park bench that might be an early-morning rest stop for the financier could also have been the bed for the homeless person the night before, alerting visitors to how all people are uniting in their interaction with our physical spaces.
A brilliant indigo sets a moody scene in the next gallery, a framework entitled ‘A Quiet Place.’ Curators have set up a living room scene—brown leather couches and an elaborate fireplace of the same tone—and artworks in this gallery are much less packed than the other frameworks.
This gallery analyzes how artists have sought tranquility in their artwork, whether it is through peaceful beach scenes of John Singer Sargent or the comfort of an Očhéthi Šakówiŋ cradleboard or blanket. This gallery seeks to examine how Americans spend their rest time and who has more access to leisure. While perusing, a series of audio affirmations, which focus on rest and liberation, are spoken by Tricia Hersey, an American poet and performance artist.
Conversely, a cacophony of voices are audible in the final framework, ‘Witness,’ as a large salon hang displays the onlookers of history in the making. The museum has intended for this gallery to be a recreation space where live performances, teachings, and programs are held. The portraiture, despite its originally separated roots, comes together in witness to form a community truly reflective of the Americas.
The Brooklyn Museum leaves visitors knowing that American culture is still being built and retained. In the face of horrific pasts involving the oppression of people and destruction of the environment, the museum seeks to celebrate the collective good that has remained. Viewers are encouraged to actively engage with different cultures and belief systems and to critically think about the foundation of our society.
Whether it’s the polarizing-yet-similar ‘Counterparts’ or the ever-calming ‘A Quiet Place,’ the fervor surrounding ‘Toward Joy: New Frameworks for American Art’ is a true demonstration of the museum’s influence. While still being able to name these atrocities and failures of society, the Brooklyn Museum can also show the way forward and celebrate the diverse history that constitutes the Americas.
In this way, the exhibit proposes that art is a tool for engagement, transformation, and connection. These new perspectives allow for a more nuanced understanding of how art intersects with cultural, political, and social forces.