In all our disparateness we met many times, and we became more comfortable with each other and with the idea of uniting, something which Wadsworth and Jeff, who as friends on the art fair circuit had talked about some years prior. But uniting for what? That was the question before us, as no one had really put a definitive finger on a specific goal, mission, or plan other than the idea that we needed to form a group to work together to do something. Barbara, Wadsworth, Jae, and Jeff were already well along in their individual careers, but as a group we were stabbing out in the dark with respect to what we wanted to accomplish collectively. So called groups abounded. Donaldson was already part of the group of artists led by Bill Walker, who painted the tribute to Black heroes on 43rd and Langley - The Wall of Respect (Wadsworth, Barbara, and Carolyn Lawrence also contributed to the wall). Another group of artists painted the “Wall of Truth” just across the street. There was the short lived, event specific COBRA (Coalition of Black Revolutionary Artists) group, which, with Jeff as one of their organizers and spokespersons, was spontaneously shepherded to protest Columbia College's conference on Black art that had eschewed the involvement of any of the local artists. OBAC was a group comprised mainly of literary and performing artists, and there was the National Conference of Artists that was an amorphous body made up chiefly of art educators who held a convention once a year. Later, there was the BAG (Black Art Guild) which is certainly worthy of further historical review for their collective vision.
demolished center of culture in Hyde Park) to discuss organizing. I offered to help circulate flyers and to spread the word, and perhaps 20 to thirty artists showed up on a hot Summer night. None, it turned out, were impressed with what Jeff was proposing, and some voiced outright negative reactions to the idea. He commented to me afterward, as he picked up a couple of the flyers that had been thrown on the floor, “these people aren’t ready.... we ought to just press on.” The “we” were himself, Wadsworth, Jae, Barbara and me, the “coalition of the willing,” who had already committed ourselves to the idea of unity. Many artists began to come to our sessions from time to time, but none were really interested in an ongoing relationship, though they seemingly were stimulated by the discussions. A few were full of ideas and suggestions. One graphic artist for the City, who went by the name, Mineral suggested, on one occasion, that in order to become successful and to attract attention we needed to hold a banquet to give testimonials for one of the local politicians, and have him say wonderful things about us. He was serious, but it never happened of course. Everybody, it seemed, had great ideas.
brought in was of the woman who used to sell peanuts near the El at 63rd and Cottage Grove. Titled the “Peanut lady” this painting elicited comments like “....hmmm, nice, I’ ve seen that lady” but....” It was a start of our process of analyzing work and deciding what was square one or baseline for each person to build upon. The first painting that I produced as a direct result of embarking on the AFRICOBRA's road least traveled was of a young boy sitting pensively with an intense expression on his face (some think he is frowning). I called it “Ready, Set, Go.” That was the first painting that I accomplished using acrylic paints, which all of us had just begun to use by 1968. The “Black family” was the subject of the first work that we decided to do using the same theme and utilizing lettering or written statements. I painted a mother, father, and a couple of children sitting at a dinner table. The others composed the family in a portrait. The cumbersomeness of my original composition caused me to abandon it and I finally settled upon the more characteristic pose, which one critic termed predictable. “Say it Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud” poured from windows and car radios, and beamed on the faces of people passing on the street.
attitude “I am better than those Motherfucker’s and They Know It.” That sentiment was too extreme for everyone to deal with, even for the person who introduced it, but as I conptemplated my own approach to the subject I thought of the weekly mantra that Jessie Jackson used to recite at his Saturday morning Operation Breadbasket (later Operation PUSH) meetings, which I used to attend. At the end of his sermons at the packed Capital Theater, Rev. Jackson would abruptly end with a thundering “I am. Somebody..... What Time is it?.... It's nation time.” Those themes resonated strongly and resulted in the two painting that I titled so, out of deference to a feeling that being positive about oneself mitigated any negative feeling, thoughts, or actions about others that can make you less than you are, rendering it unnecessary to vocalize the thought of being better than anyone. That was my “I Am Better Than....” painting |
