Minority Majority

Labels such as "African-American sculptor" or "Hispanic potter" or "woman critic" imply that white male art is the norm. Historically this is true, but not because art by white males is superior. In the art world, as in Western society, power roles traditionally have gone to white men; that's who ended up setting the standards and conferring the rewards. For proof, check out the most popular textbooks for introductory art history courses. The lack of diversity in traditional notions of American art does not mean there were no minority artists working. Though some ignored artists have been rightfully resurrected, others are lost forever in the testosterone-scented snowstorm that was, and to some degree still is, the Academy.

Labels are also risky because they set up expectations, as in Shades of Clay at the American Jazz Museum. At least four factors contributed to my expectation that all ceramic artworks in the show would address issues of race: the exhibition's title and catalog celebrating "work being created by artists of color"; its early promotion as a multicultural exhibition; the venue's location in the 18th and Vine district (just off the lobby of the museum, a recording of Martin Luther King reiterates, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal...."); and, most consequentially, my own narrow mind. I assumed the preceding three factors must result in artwork with a political agenda.

How rewarding -- and humbling -- to be proven wrong. Although the exhibition's fifteen ceramic artists are from a variety of ethnic and cultural backgrounds (African-American, Chicano, Moorish, Thai, Mongolian), their ceramics explore issues and techniques as diverse and individual as the artists, and all with distinction and refinement.

Ceramic artist Paul Andrew Wandless, who curated the show, says he purposely chose artists whose works are very different. "I wanted to show, again, that minority art normally gets pigeonholed," he says. "My intent is for people to look in and say, 'This work is as strong as any that's being made, and it just happens to be made by a minority artist.'"

Wandless, whose work is included in the exhibition and who, like the majority of these artist, is on the art faculty of a major university, was only the second minority to complete the ceramic arts degree program at Arizona State University. (Another Shades artist, Stephen Carter, was the first, graduating ten years before Wandless. The two have developed a Web site, culturalvisions.net, that highlights minority artists and their works.) In curating Shades of Clay, Wandless kept in mind his lack of minority role models.

"If you're not seeing people who look like you succeed, then why would you want to go into that field?" he asks rhetorically. "There are so many options available, and so few young people go into art. Instead, they enter into an occupation where they're certain they can get a job when they're finished." Shades of Clay demonstrates that minority artists can not only survive in the art world but rise to the top of their field.

Winnie Owens-Hart's "Reclining Nude" is an extraordinary, evocative vessel in the stylized shape of a female torso. Its small size and faux-archaic surface in shades of smoky gray and ochre recall vessels unearthed from ancient tombs, whose contents were precious: perfume or nectar or kohl. The nude is also reminiscent of the Venus of Willendorf, its ample form an homage to, or entreaty for, fertility and abundance. The breasts are large and flat against the bloated belly, and the tiny navel is star-shaped, its luminous glaze sparkling. The pubic hair is also stylized, with black dots applied in a lyrical diamond shape. Beneath the hair is the pubis, the labia like the lips of a fish gasping for air. There are no legs, no arm and no head (the neck is the vessel's spout), but the nude reclines unassisted, halfway between sleeping and sitting -- a symbol of remarkable strength and endurance.