“After the catalyzing uprising in the wake of George Floyd’s murder in May 2020, many cultural institutions have sought to represent themselves more equitably — that is to say, more diversely — to the Black, Indigenous, People of Color (BIPOC) community at large,” reports Frederica Simmons in Hyperallergic. “This pursuit of equity has fallen heavily on the shoulders of BIPOC cultural workers, as institutions rush to communicate their inclusivity to majority White audiences.”

Simmons, writing from the Twin Cities, asks, “Surrounded by outdated practices and bare-minimum standards, what does conscious curation look like?” Fostering a community of care and “welcoming BIPOC artists, curators, and others into the curatorial process creates a space for accountability,” Simmons offers.

Performative efforts by White curators to create connections in the BIPOC community have resulted primarily in single exhibitions rather than continuing dialogues. Curators are critical in providing narratives and influence to the public that is often taken for granted by museum and gallery visitors. Curation can be both invisible and omnipotent: without the curatorial guidance, there is no meaning, no story. When curatorial work is viewed as preeminent, practitioners risk falling into patterns of self-assured superiority and operate from positions of power hoarding, assuming, as a result of their specialization within a particular field, the role of universal authority on such topics. This rapidly individualizes and isolates the process, often with negative consequences for diverse populations. When White curators seek to express BIPOC stories from their own perspectives, what is lost? Any opportunity for authentic truth to be conveyed.

Read here.

“When I think of the phrase ‘You’re always a day late and a dollar short,’ I also think about resilience—the ability to recover from or adjust easily to, despite hard luck or change,” writes Helanius J. Wilkins in a poignant essay published in the National Performance Network (NPN) blog. “One of my earliest lessons about resilience came through observing my father.”

Wilkins shares an intimate story about his relationship with his father, learning to unlearn and relearn, and how a practice of walking in solace became essential for navigating a pandemic. “His experience taught me that resilience is a cyclical process of learning, unlearning, relearning, and how in the relearning, new insights can be gained about the self, others, and the world around us,” Wilkins reflects.

Read the full essay here.