I Cannot Sell You This Painting

As I've written before, I'm in awe of artists that can capture emotions so well - especially during periods of social angst.

Titus Kaphar was commissioned to design the Time magazine cover for the issue covering the protests surrounding the death of George Floyd. It depicts an African-American mother holding her child and is surrounded by the names of 35 men and women whose deaths, in many cases, at the hands of police, were the result of systemic racism. Their names are a FRACTION of the many more who have lost their lives because of the racist violence that has beset this nation from its start. Titus wrote the following piece which is as riveting as his cover art, in response to this moment.

I

can not

sell

you

this

painting.

In her expression, I see the Black mothers

who are unseen, and rendered helpless in

this fury against their babies.

As I listlessly wade through another cycle

of violence against Black people,

I paint a Black mother…

eyes closed,

furrowed brow,

holding the contour of her loss.

Is this what it means for us?

Are black and loss

analogous colors in America?

If Malcolm could not fix it,

if Martin could not fix it,

if Michael,

Sandra,

Trayvon,

Tamir,

Breonna and

Now George Floyd…

can be murdered

and nothing changes…

wouldn’t it be foolish to remain hopeful?

Must I accept that this is what it means to be Black

in America?

Do

not

ask

me

to be

hopeful.

I have given up trying to describe the

feeling of knowing that I can not be safe in the country of my birth…

How do I explain to my children that the

very system set up to protect others could be a threat to our existence?

How do I shield them from the

psychological impact of knowing that for

the rest of our lives we will likely be seen

as a threat, and for that

We may die?

A MacArthur won’t protect you .

A Yale degree won’t protect you .

Your well-spoken plea will not change hundreds of years of institutionalized hate.

You will never be as eloquent as Baldwin,

you will never be as kind as King…

So, isn’t it only reasonable to believe that

there will be no change soon?

And so those without hope…

Burn.

This Black mother understands the fire.

Black mothers understand despair.

I can change NOTHING in this world,

but in paint,

I can realize her….

This brings me solace…

not hope, but solace.

She walks me through the flames of rage.

My Black mother rescues me yet again.

I want to be sure that she is seen.

I want to be certain that her story is told.

And so, this time

America must hear her voice.

This time

America must believe her.

One

Black

mother’s

loss

WILL

be

memorialized.

This time

I will not let her go.

I

can not

sell

you

this

painting.