I wrapped my semester, entering the summer with the mid-college crisis I was warned about. The one where the student discovers what they were truly meant to do all along and they’d start over in a brand new major, swamped with new prerequisites. Except, I don’t want to abandon photography the way my dad left architecture. It’s still a passion of mine, documenting people and creating my archive.
But is it the only one to devote that hustle to?
I decided to take the summer to explore, to begin to embrace the multihyphenate. In what way entirely, I did not know. I’m halfway through the summer and I still don’t know. I haven’t been entirely productive, with the kid-chases-ice-cream-truck or citizen-chases-MTA-bus kind of vigor. I’ve been letting experiences pass through me, waiting to find something that rings the alarm.
An email chime.
I swore it was a scam. An invite to a lunch by Antwaun Sargent at the Brooklyn Museum celebrating Instagram’s #BlackVisionaries with the opening of Virgil Abloh’s new exhibit.
An intimate setting with the curator I always say hi to but can never find the words to talk to? Absolutely. I trimmed the uneven ends of my hair, grabbed my Ciriaco purse, and arrived half an hour early making no room for CPT to seep its way into me.
Greeted with mauve-pink mocktails topped with indigo flowers and medium-rare steak bites on plantain chips, the museum I once toured for elementary school trips was different. It seemed oddly tranquil. With an adorned lobby showcasing last year’s #BlackVisionaries recipients and a voting station hidden behind white curtains, I had seen a traditionally vivacious lobby become a meeting ground.
It’s typical at industry events to scan the crowd to find anyone (please, anyone) that you’d know or recognize. Instead of swirling my mocktail, nervously pretending to be occupied, I had to instead be careful spilling it. As more people arrived, I found myself rushing over to greet friends and peers I was pleasantly surprised to see there. Between reuniting with Isio Maya, a dancer and model I photographed for a freshmen year project, Tia Adeola who I interned for last summer, and finally getting to meet Ahniyah Gold (and taking a picture with her, still geeking), I was entirely in my element. Between the blends of melanin and mixes of Burna Boy, KAYTRANADA, and Kelela as the soundtrack, the room felt effortlessly warm.
It is one of the highest honors to be able to see Virgil’s work in person, let alone one of the first to see its latest installation. Introduced by capital lettering on the glass sliding doors, “FIGURES OF SPEECH” takes us behind the fabrics, sketches, and final products of Virgil’s work, from styrofoam mock-ups to rows of rare, unreleased sneakers that even Flight Club can’t top. Inviting us to the custom plywood table he envisioned as both a “runway and drafting station”, the installation promotes his philosophy that “all things [are] prototypes or works in progress”. He encourages us to revisit our creative works with patience and precision.
Virgil is known to be an achiever, earning a personal cease and desist letter from the United Nations for his customized DJ sets on display at the show. The exhibition instead uses much of the space to highlight his progression as a multidisciplinary artist. It intrigues me that his myriad of interests was built on and connected back to his discipline in architecture and design. That his projects consistently informed one another and became more interesting when in conversation with each other. Despite using different mediums, he consistently remixed, pulled from his personal experiences and black iconography, and reacted to the news. Refining his ideas with design elements, and an appreciation for critical details, structure, and functionality, he created worlds that his designs lived in. Combined with his commitment to transparency and education, most recently through his digital guide “FREE GAME”, he was a visionary that emphasized passing the baton to the youth.
It all came full circle, that Instagram would introduce their latest edition of the #BlackVisionaries grant program, after seeing Virgil's work. This year’s iteration expands recipients to be “by design” in any creative discipline. Honoring the working progress of artists in practice, perfectly complemented with the exhibition, Instagram is “meeting black creatives [wherever] their journey [is]”.
Referencing Taofeek Abijako of Head of State, one of last year’s recipients and the star of their latest film short, Antwaun Sargent explains the importance of the artists “still putting in their ten-thousand-hours” before delivering a final product, before knowing “what’s next”. Adding a new $100,000 Visionary Small Business Grant for Brooklyn-based shops in the mix, the next wave of the #BlackVisionaries program thinks “hyper-locally”, focusing on artists that are rooted in the community.
In a fast-paced industry with even faster scrolling, creatives - especially young ones - increasingly feel pressure to announce their next achievement. The grant’s emphasis on the work behind the scenes encourages a more careful, thoughtful approach to creative practice. It is an investment in demonstrated potential, rather than accolade. It is a refreshing take on what support looks like for working artists.
Charlton Gholson, one of the organizers of the grant and the lunch, mentioned that of the five people he had met in the past hour before being seated, not one of them worked exclusively in one medium. “Everyone had slashes”.
As I turned to each of my peers, I heard nothing but budding potential. The works in progress. One of them is working on branching into film, another to interior design, while another is finalizing business expansions, while another split their attention between our conversation and their AirPod - they were tuning in to a Zoom call that could help their new line. We shared our tribulations building our creative practices from scratch while simultaneously becoming our own managers and businesspeople. We shared congratulations, encouragement, curiosity, and hindsight advice. We also shared videos of the food for the times the camera did not eat first.
My peers are investing and exploring passions and hobbies outside of their main practice, seeing where it takes them. Between hearing their hunger and excitement for these mixed mediums, the announcement of Instagram’s #BlackVisionaries program returning, and experiencing “FIGURES OF SPEECH” (taking so long that, they were clearing tables by the time I got back), I found my alarm ringing. I am inspired to find where my other interests can take me, possibly elevating my photography in the process and vice versa.
Walking into the glass doors that ten years ago were for class trips, to now joking with the artists inside about how we all thought the invite email was a scam, I am humbled and grateful.
Seeing my name on the placard at that table sealed the deal. This adorned, melanated table was meant for me.
Thank you to Arielle, Monique, Besidone, Antwaun, Diallo, Kristen, and the rest of the team for having me and for putting together such a beautiful event.Apply to the #BlackVisionaries grant HERE and see “FIGURES OF SPEECH” at Brooklyn Museum open now through January 29th, 2023…
and get your merch before the resellers do.
Citations from the “FIGURES OF SPEECH” catalog, courtesy of Brooklyn Museum and its visiting curators.
Written by Denise Stephanie
