Photo: Tadayuki Minamoto/Calder Foundation New York/Artists Rights Society, New York
Art
Collector Suzanne McFayden on Finding Art That Moves the Soul
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Suzanne McFayden with a painting by Julia Jo. Photo by Olivia Frierson. Courtesy of Suzanne McFayden.
Few collectors have minds as crystalline as Suzanne McFayden. Serving as board chair of the Blanton Museum of Art in Austin, Texas, and an esteemed patron at the Studio Museum in Harlem, her effect can raise a vibration. With her honeyed lilt and resonant inflections, immediately one feels compelled to sit up straight. McFayden’s snatch-your-spirit elegance is a balm.
“I’m only interested in works that move the soul,” McFayden said of her approach to collecting. “I call it a quickening, usually a blood-rushing sensation I feel in my stomach. It’s an urge that makes me want to get closer, one that lures me in to learn or ask questions. That’s the feeling I enjoy the most, and it really doesn’t happen often.”
McFayden, while sitting in front of a breathtaking mural called Stay Focus by Delphine Desane, recalled the first time that this “quickening” took hold. She was at Art Basel in 2010, where she encountered a lithograph of the Caribbean sea by Japanese artist Hiroshi Sugimoto. When she learned that Sugimoto was inspired by his time in Jamaica—McFayden’s place of birth—she felt as if he were speaking directly to her. It’s this kind of communion that inspires each of her purchases.
McFayden’s first “serious art purchase” was in 2014: I Have Peg Leg Nightmares by Kenyan artist Wangechi Mutu. The wondrous watercolor collage depicts a woman looking over her shoulder, hands clasped primly in leather gloves, wrists snaked in diamonds. The woman is nude, one leg severed above the knee, as blood spills gorgeously like strewn rose petals.
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Works by Deborah Roberts, Adrienne Elise Tarver, and Delphine Desane, hung on a Mural by Diego Miro. Photo by Olivia Frierson. Courtesy of Suzanne McFayden
Suzanne McFayden with a painting by Bony Ramirez. Photo by Olivia Frierson. Courtesy of Suzanne McFayden.
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“At the time my kids found the portrait a little scary,” McFayden recalled, laughing. “But I fell in love instantly. Mutu’s works reflect the conditions that many Black women, across the diaspora, find themselves in. Even though we may be wounded, we still go on and we often find ways to make beauty of the pain we’ve endured.”
McFayden is fixated with internal alchemy, experienced through the depth of feeling. Rather than rush to consume the next best thing, McFayden is interested in forging personal connections and exploring deeper histories with works that will evolve with her over time.
McFayden’s collection is an amalgam of her ever-changing moods, sensations, and dreams, from a neon text by British artist Tracey Emin that reads “TRUST YOURSELF”—an aphorism of inestimable value given the dismemberment facilitated through mass media—to dreamy photographs by Ethiopian American artist Awol Erizku.
A true Taurus, she has an affinity for works that conjure beauty. McFayden’s definition is not characterized by formal aesthetics, however, but by a kind of internal ignition that charges the senses. For example, in her hydrotherapy room, a Noah Davis nude hangs on the wall, a reminder to embrace in her own sensuality.
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Suzanne McFayden with a painting by Jerrell Gibbs, hung on a mural by Diego Miro. Photo by Olivia Frierson. Courtesy of Suzanne McFayden.
A faithfulness of “respecting her feelings” was also instilled in McFayden at an early age, she told Artsy: “I grew up around women who were always fully embodied, who claimed themselves with complete authority, women who were central to themselves. As a young girl, I wasn’t fully aware of how powerful their sovereignty was, especially in relation to the legacy of colonialism and enslavement that surrounded us. In hindsight, I can understand how vital it was for me to have women on both sides of my family who were steadfast regardless of their environment or circumstances.”
As a writer and avid reader, McFayden is interested in the “alchemy of truth” that is distilled through art.
Witnessing Mutu responding to Constantin Brâncuși’s narrowed primitive gaze which inspired his “African” works, or learning the source of inspiration behind the young Black boy in Titus Kaphar’s portrait Enough About You, had a revelatory impact on her: “I don’t like art that’s trivial,” she said. “It’s important to me that art demands an emotion, a memory, that in some way it touches the lives of other people or expands a conversation.”
Still, this isn’t to suggest that McFayden is solely partial to severely sophisticated modernist masterworks. Simple, minimal art can be equally stimulating. One of her recent purchases was a work by visual artist Kenny Rivero. “Every time I see his work it brings a smile to my face,” she said. “There’s something playful in his exhibitions.”
Other artists who’ve helped nourish McFayden’s creativity include Alma Thomas, whom she described as a “force offering a way forward,” and Joan Mitchell, “an artist of real power who continued making work regardless of what was happening around her.” Both, she said, were eons ahead of their time: Thomas and Mitchell sizzled with élan and sock-it-to-me styles, bulldozing their way through eras of feminine domestic subjection. Paving a way for our current cultural reckoning, nothing excites McFayden more than the seismic shift across the art world today.
![](https://d7hftxdivxxvm.cloudfront.net?quality=80&resize_to=width&src=https%3A%2F%2Fartsy-media-uploads.s3.amazonaws.com%2FA_CcP5pEtQU6ofaXVOjP3Q%252Fsuzanne_MAG.jpg&width=910)
Suzanne McFayden with a painting by Delphine Desane, hung on a mural by Diego Miro. Photo by Olivia Frierson. Courtesy of Suzanne McFayden.
“When I was a child growing up in Jamaica…the standard of beauty was typecast as one thing. I see much more self-love and self-acceptance which is exploding across the art world,” she said. “We’re witnessing Black artists reclaiming abstraction, allowing themselves to make work that is more radical, more political, and more fluid.”
One recent experience of this came during this year’s Venice Biennale; McFayden was moved to tears by the seismic showcases of Simone Leigh and Sonia Boyce and the ever-expanding fields of unity across cultures.
“We know that art is a pendulum, but this is not a moment, this is not a phase,” McFayden said. “I had a renowned art collector say to me, ‘I’ve never seen the American pavilion look as good as what Simone has done to it.’ When you see that sort of reaction live, it’s not being said out of tokenism. The elastic band isn’t just going to snap back into place. Of course, there’s fear from artists who aren’t of color and might feel as if they’re being squeezed out, but no…finally they’re being called to merit their spots.”
When we spoke with McFayden, she was rotating her collection for winter. A synchrony of works that match the winter season was called forth, with works from Deborah Roberts, Rachel Jones, Qualeasha Jones, Sheila Hicks and Adrienne Elise Tarver returning, though abstraction is the mood and medium of the moment.
McFayden continues to challenge herself to support in meaningful ways. Inspired by Agnes Gund and her efforts of selling works of art to fund causes, McFayden sees no value in graceless profiteering. Instead, she looks forward: “We can all do more, especially in these times, to support not only ourselves but to help our next generation.”
Killian Wright-Jackson
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Art
6 Art Exhibitions to see in Tokyo This Summer
Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in Breakfast With ARTnews, our daily newsletter about the art world. Sign up here to receive it every weekday.
The flight to Japan from art world centers like New York, London, and Paris isn’t exactly short. Those that do make the trip this year, however, won’t be disappointed with the art offerings, which span modern to contemporary. This week, during the Tokyo Gendai fair, the shows to see in the city are dominated by strong sculpture.
First up on the itinerary: the Artizon Museum’s exhibition of Constantin Brancusi, the first proper survey of the Romanian-born sculptor’s work in Japan.
Brancusi’s The Kiss has it all: it’s cute, it’s romantic, it’s profoundly Instagrammable. Made at the turn of the twentieth century, it also happens to mark the starting line of modern sculpture: from The Kiss’s economy of means, the rest was a sprint, from Picasso to Moore to Giacometti all the way up through Eva Hesse and Rachel Whiteread. So it’s no surprise that the Kiss is situated front and center at the Artizon show.
The exhibition neatly charts Brancusi’s wiggling free of Rodin’s influence and taking flight: the show culminates in a section dedicated to the form of the bird, represented by the rightly famous Bird in Space, an elegant skyward swipe of bronze. There are also photographs, and a section dedicated to recreating Brancusi’s Montparnasse studio. Purists will gripe about the large number of posthumous casts but, for a lay audience, the show serves as a decent dose of beauty and a fine introduction to a titan of modern sculpture.
If Brancusi conceived of the bird, Alexander Calder taught it to fly. Over at the Azabudai Hills Gallery is a compact survey of the master of the mobile—done in collaboration with Pace Gallery , whose huge new space is upstairs—assembled by the artist’s tireless grandson Sandy Rower, head of the Calder Foundation. The title? “Calder: A Japanese Effect” Why not. We’ve already had Calder paired with artists from Giacometti to Miro to Fischli and Weiss. As Rower has shown us over the past two decades, Calder is indeed the gift that keeps on giving.
There are some real gems in this exhibition, including an unexpected series of drawings of animals in motion: there are no other words for these than just perfect, especially the cats, with their movements captured in just a few strokes of ink. A star of this particular show, though, is Japanese architect Stephanie Goto, who did the exhibition design. A black mobile set against a black ceiling? Unexpectedly brilliant. Other works are situated against a wall covered in large black sheets of paper, another effect that shouldn’t work but does.
You may think of Brancusi again when you visit “MOON,” an exhibition of Los Angeles-based British artist Thomas Houseago at BLUM , the gallery formerly known as Blum & Poe. Best known as a sculptor, Houseago has several pieces in the show that recall the Romanian master, one of them an abstract egg-like shape set on a rough-hewn wooden plinth, and the other an owl in his signature technique of drawing in plaster.
For my money, the owl is the best piece in this show, displayed silhouetted against a large window. Like Ann Craven’s paintings of birds, this piece seems to capture the essence of the animal. Houseago has recently branched out into paintings, and they are dramatic and rich with color, if somewhat less successful than the 3D work. A large painting of an owl, for instance, is accomplished, but seems only to highlight the less-is-more brilliance of the sculpture.
After seeing the work of those three male sculptors, you will have to put on a different hat to experience the work of Rei Naito. Think of Henry James’s famous dictum and “try to be one of those on whom nothing is lost.” Because if you are not paying attention in the various displays of Naito’s work throughout the enormous Tokyo National Museum, you are going to lose quite a bit.
Naito, who was born in Hiroshima in 1961 and represented Japan at the 1997 Venice Biennale, works in a minimalist tradition, but not in the sense of, say, Donald Judd. There is nothing heavy about her work. Instead, objects ranging from small to miniscule—pompoms, balloons, pebble-like blown glass bubbles, animal figurines, bones, little mirrors, a jar of water—are deployed in ways that demand meditation on the part of the viewer. In one long, narrow gallery of the museum, such things are arrayed against slate gray walls and under dimmed lights: the effect is of being inside the artist’s imagination. Along one wall is white fabric inside a glass display case, looking like a snowbank. What amazes about Saito’s work is just how close it gets to twee without ever stepping over that line.
Photo: Nobutada Omote/Courtesy the artist and SCAI THE BATHHOUSE.
In the 1980s, Naito said of a particular artwork of hers that she was attempting to “create a spiritual place of her own.” The same might be said for another Japanese artist of Naito’s generation who works in a very different mode. Mariko Mori became known in the nineties for photographs of herself posed in urban environments in Japan, dressed up as various stereotypes of a Japanese woman. But over the past two decades she has been working in a spiritual mode, right down to merging her art with her living quarters.
The project currently on view at SCAI The Bathhouse is complex, involving crystals and a spiritualistic painting, and is connected to Mori’s artwork Peace Crystal (2016-2024), which is currently on view outside a palazzo in Venice during this year’s Biennale. At SCAI, Mori appears in augmented reality (you need to make an appointment) as a priestess whose attire draws on both Japan’s history and on the kind of futuristic effects found in video games. Like Saito, Mori has crafted an entire immersive world, one you can only enter in person.
Photo: Koroda Takeru/Courtesy Mori Art Museum
For Theaster Gates, too, as a wall text explains in the Chicago artist’s first solo exhibition in Japan, at the Mori Art Museum , making art is a spiritual enterprise. Gates prepared for the Mori show by working with potters in Tokoname, which he had first visited in 2004, and came up with the concept of “Afro-Mingei,” a reference to the word for Japanese folk art, a movement that was overshadowed by the introduction of Western art to Japan in the 19th century. (“[W]hat is key for me is the way in which Mingei honors makers native to a place and resists external impositions of cultural identity,” Gates explains in wall text in the show.)
The results are displayed in the final section of this survey of Gates’ work and they are by far the highlight. After an elaborate timeline that traces Gates’ links with Japan comes an enormous display case holding ceramics by Tokoname potter Koide Yoshihiro, who died in 2022, and an enormous wooden bar—stools and all—that fronts a set of shelves holding binbo tokkuri bottles (sake bottles) made in collaboration with Japanese potter Tani Q. There’s also a terrific soundtrack (Busta Rhymes was on when I visited) and a spinning disco ball in the shape of an iceberg.
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Art
How the University of Manitoba is decolonizing its art collection
The University of Manitoba is decolonizing its art collection, replacing problematic paintings and sculptures with contemporary Indigenous art.
“The university is ultimately a colonial institution that is designed to serve white people … and that needs to change,” said C.W. Brooks-Ip, registrar and preparator of the University of Manitoba Art Collection.
“We have had artwork that is by a white settler that depicts Indigenous folks in not really an accurate way, in sort of the mythologized way, that in some ways glorifies the white settlers — or at least reinforces their white supremacy.”
So Brooks-Ip created the Indigenous Student Led Indigenous Art Purchase Program, a two-year pilot project that aims to change that. The group of Indigenous students meets with artists and curators, visits studios and recommends artwork to purchase.
The move comes amid a larger debate about what to do with art that reflects a colonial and imperialist history.
A reminder of home and community
The committee has received $30,000 from the school’s Office of the Vice-President (Indigenous). It’s submitted 24 proposals for paintings, prints, physical pieces and an etching, by artists including Jackie Traverse, Christi Belcourt and Kent Monkman. The group hopes to acquire them over the summer, and show them as part of an exhibition at the School of Art Gallery in October before installing them throughout the campus.
Third-year student Jory Thomas, 20, says she jumped at the opportunity to get involved as the project’s committee co-ordinator.
She remembers how overwhelmed she felt starting her architecture degree at the university. At the time, she said, there wasn’t a lot of Indigenous art on campus.
“Seeing pieces like that reminds me of home. It reminds me of community and it creates that sense of familiarity that gets you comfortable with being here … and ready to learn,” said Thomas, who is Red River Métis.
“The university is sending a message to students [that] you are welcome here.”
Museums have started to confront how Canada’s treatment of Indigenous peoples is presented and some are getting access to federal funding for addressing residential schools.
Removed paintings
One painting removed from the university president’s office is a work by Lionel Stephenson, an artist living in Winnipeg between 1885 and 1892.
The painting shows Upper Fort Garry on one side of the river, with an Indigenous person sitting outside a teepee on the other shore.
![One example of art being removed is this painting by Lionel Stephenson, which used to hang in the university president’s office.](https://i.cbc.ca/1.7252535.1720122740!/fileImage/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/original_780/painting-by-lionel-stephenson.jpg)
“It’s kind of depicting a ‘We’re over here and they’re over there’ type situation,” Thomas said. “It’s not showing community and togetherness. It’s showing the separation between the river and the settlement.”
It shows “the threat of direct colonization,” Brooks-Ip said.
Another is a sculpture of a buffalo hunt by Thomas Holland, an American artist and polo player. It portrays an Indigenous hunter riding a horse and spearing a buffalo.
![This sculpture of the Buffalo Hunt by American artist, Thomas Holland, is one of the pieces that has been removed from public areas of the University of Manitoba, and relegated to the university collection art vault.](https://i.cbc.ca/1.7249032.1720122748!/fileImage/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/original_780/jory-thomas-and-c-w-brooks-ip.jpg)
While the depiction may be historically accurate, it wasn’t created from an Indigenous perspective of cultural understanding, respect and gratitude for the animal’s sacrifice, said Thomas, whose clan animal is the buffalo.
Images like this perpetuate harmful stereotypes of angry, violent Indigenous people, fostering a hostile environment on campus, she said.
“Instead of this violent attacking of the bison, there might be a better option of a sculpture, where they’re preparing the bison that they’ve hunted, because we historically used all the parts of the bison,” she said.
A new piece
One of the new pieces is by Frederick Lyle Spence, also known as Thunder Bear, an Ojibway carver from Peguis First Nation in Manitoba. It’s a soapstone carving of a black silhouette of a goose, with a dream catcher in its body, called “Let your dreams fly, for they will bring you home.”
Spence carved it in March, and he said it’s been waiting for the right home ever since.
“If I’m not ready to let it go it, one of the things I’ve been told is that it’s meant to stay and absorb your love and your positive energy,” Spence said.
“And when it’s ready, it’ll go to its new home and then it’ll sit and give off that energy to whoever is around it.”
He said he felt humbled and honoured when the university asked to buy it, especially when he reflected on his own experience as a student at the University of Winnipeg, which he said made him feel ashamed of his identity and his “Peguis” accent.
“I didn’t feel welcomed. I didn’t end up having a huge community or connection with the university, which is sad.”
What to do with colonial art?
For years, art institutions have deliberated on what to do with works that reflect a colonial history — should they be relegated to vaults or reframed with an Indigenous perspective and context as an educational opportunity?
There’s room for both approaches, said Riva Symko, head of collections and exhibitions at Winnipeg Art Gallery-Qaumajuq, home to the world’s largest public collection of contemporary Inuit art.
“We do need to put things away to make space for other voices to be heard and seen. Sometimes we need to put things away because they’re traumatic, because they are harmful … especially to our Indigenous visitors and audiences,” she said. “And we don’t want to instil more trauma on our communities.”
However, she said, artworks can occasionally be reframed or retold from a different point of view, giving a new understanding of them.
![Riva Symko, head of collections and exhibitions at Winnipeg Art Gallery - Qaumajuq, art says art can spur conversation and dialogue.](https://i.cbc.ca/1.7254407.1720122766!/fileImage/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/original_780/riva-symko.jpg)
In 2023, the Manitoba government said it would conduct a review to ensure all Indigenous-themed artwork displayed in ministers’ offices is created by Indigenous artists.
A provincial spokesperson said that review is now complete, and that all but one piece was confirmed to have been made by Indigenous artists. The remaining piece’s artist is unknown, and has been taken down until it can be identified.
Society is going through a paradigm shift, changing how we view our history and looking for new ways of dealing with our colonial past, Symko said. Art can spur conversation and dialogue, she said.
“The future will tell whether we burn them down, or whether we store them away and lock them in the vault, or whether we bring them out and use them for discussion.”
While Indigenous art is the focus right now, U Manitoba is currently auditing its entire collection and “keeping an eye out for things that might be problematic.”
If this pilot project can be extended or expanded, Brooks-Ip would also be interested in looking for art reflecting other racialized and queer communities.
The University of Manitoba is decolonizing its art collection, replacing problematic paintings and sculptures with contemporary Indigenous art.
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Art
How the University of Manitoba is decolonizing its art collection – CBC.ca
Karen Pauls | CBC News | Posted: July 5, 2024 8:00 AM | Last Updated: 3 hours ago
And what should be done with works that reflect a colonial history?
The University of Manitoba is decolonizing its art collection, replacing problematic paintings and sculptures with contemporary Indigenous art.
“The university is ultimately a colonial institution that is designed to serve white people … and that needs to change,” said C.W. Brooks-Ip, registrar and preparator of the University of Manitoba Art Collection.
“We have had artwork that is by a white settler that depicts Indigenous folks in not really an accurate way, in sort of the mythologized way, that in some ways glorifies the white settlers — or at least reinforces their white supremacy.”
So Brooks-Ip created the Indigenous Student Led Indigenous Art Purchase Program, a two-year pilot project that aims to change that. The group of Indigenous students meets with artists and curators, visits studios and recommends artwork to purchase.
The move comes amid a larger debate about what to do with art that reflects a colonial and imperialist history.
A reminder of home and community
The committee has received $30,000 from the school’s Office of the Vice-President (Indigenous). It’s submitted 24 proposals for paintings, prints, physical pieces and an etching, by artists including Jackie Traverse, Christi Belcourt and Kent Monkman. The group hopes to acquire them over the summer, and show them as part of an exhibition at the School of Art Gallery in October before installing them throughout the campus.
Third-year student Jory Thomas, 20, says she jumped at the opportunity to get involved as the project’s committee co-ordinator.
She remembers how overwhelmed she felt starting her architecture degree at the university. At the time, she said, there wasn’t a lot of Indigenous art on campus.
“Seeing pieces like that reminds me of home. It reminds me of community and it creates that sense of familiarity that gets you comfortable with being here … and ready to learn,” said Thomas, who is Red River Métis.
“The university is sending a message to students [that] you are welcome here.”
Removed paintings
One painting removed from the university president’s office is a work by Lionel Stephenson, an artist living in Winnipeg between 1885 and 1892.
The painting shows Upper Fort Garry on one side of the river, with an Indigenous person sitting outside a teepee on the other shore.
“It’s kind of depicting a ‘We’re over here and they’re over there’ type situation,” Thomas said. “It’s not showing community and togetherness. It’s showing the separation between the river and the settlement.”
It shows “the threat of direct colonization,” Brooks-Ip said.
Another is a sculpture of a buffalo hunt by Thomas Holland, an American artist and polo player. It portrays an Indigenous hunter riding a horse and spearing a buffalo.
While the depiction may be historically accurate, it wasn’t created from an Indigenous perspective of cultural understanding, respect and gratitude for the animal’s sacrifice, said Thomas, whose clan animal is the buffalo.
Images like this perpetuate harmful stereotypes of angry, violent Indigenous people, fostering a hostile environment on campus, she said.
“Instead of this violent attacking of the bison, there might be a better option of a sculpture, where they’re preparing the bison that they’ve hunted, because we historically used all the parts of the bison,” she said.
A new piece
One of the new pieces is by Frederick Lyle Spence, also known as Thunder Bear, an Ojibway carver from Peguis First Nation in Manitoba. It’s a soapstone carving of a black silhouette of a goose, with a dream catcher in its body, called “Let your dreams fly, for they will bring you home.”
Spence carved it in March, and he said it’s been waiting for the right home ever since.
“If I’m not ready to let it go it, one of the things I’ve been told is that it’s meant to stay and absorb your love and your positive energy,” Spence said.
“And when it’s ready, it’ll go to its new home and then it’ll sit and give off that energy to whoever is around it.”
He said he felt humbled and honoured when the university asked to buy it, especially when he reflected on his own experienc e as a student at the University of Winnipeg, which he said made him feel ashamed of his identity and his “Peguis” accent.
“I didn’t feel welcomed. I didn’t end up having a huge community or connection with the university, which is sad.”
What to do with colonial art?
For years, art institutions have deliberated on what to do with works that reflect a colonial history — should they be relegated to vaults or reframed with an Indigenous perspective and context as an educational opportunity?
“We do need to put things away to make space for other voices to be heard and seen. Sometimes we need to put things away because they’re traumatic, because they are harmful … especially to our Indigenous visitors and audiences,” she said. “And we don’t want to instill more trauma on our communities.”
However, she said, artworks can occasionally be reframed or retold from a different point of view, giving a new understanding of them.
A provincial spokesperson said that review is now complete, and that all but one piece was confirmed to have been made by Indigenous artists. The remaining piece’s artist is unknown, and has been taken down until it can be identified.
Society is going through a paradigm shift, changing how we view our history and looking for new ways of dealing with our colonial past, Symko said. Art can spur conversation and dialogue, she said.
“The future will tell whether we burn them down, or whether we store them away and lock them in the vault, or whether we bring them out and use them for discussion.”
While Indigenous art is the focus right now, U Manitoba is currently auditing its entire collection and “keeping an eye out for things that might be problematic.”
Brooks-Ip says if this pilot project can be extended or expanded, he would also be interested in looking for art reflecting other racialized and queer communities.
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