I was driving down Crenshaw Boulevard to meet with a video/performance artist to have a frank discussion about race, specifically art and race, when I wondered to myself, Am I a racist for thinking about Slauson … SLAUSON! … that way?
Inglewood is a predominantly black neighborhood west of South Los Angeles, where the many of the city's African Americans dwell. As most of urban America, segregation still exists in LA. Admittedly, I, a honky, don't get to those parts of town much. So, I'm just a little nervous as I'm driving to interview Ulysses Jenkins, a black artist, who has been doing work about race directly and indirectly since the mid-'60s. I'm determined to get to the bottom of this. No holds barred. I want to talk about the ugly elephant in America's living room — racism — and whether it exists in our ostensibly liberal-minded art world.
Jenkins' current work involves his exploration into African Brazilian culture. He has spent his last two summer breaks (from his teaching gig at UC Irvine) in Salvador, Bahia, traveling with a dance group, Viver Brasil. Last summer is when it all came together for Jenkins. He explains to me, "The African Brazilian people have parallels to African Americans, as they were both from Congo, brought to Brazil around the same time slaves were brought to America. Emancipation [in Brazil] was around 20 years later than America's, but the major difference is their drums weren't taken away. And there's a direct communication in those drums."
He describes how Salvador is now considered the main black mecca. "For African Americans to actually go there, the whole town is steeped in the African Brazilian presence. It's just incredible. I mean, I lived in the South with a black presence, but it's not like down there, where everybody is celebrating this presence. And that makes you feel a whole lot different. The people are very loving, very free. It's very genuine. But you gotta realize, Salvador is 80 percent black people. You've got this range of black people from intermarriage in that town; it's unbelievable to just look at."
Jenkins is interested in the musical culture of the African Brazilians. There's no denying that blues, jazz, soul, rap and hip-hop are products of the African Americans, but what about samba, Brazilian jazz, bossa nova, tropicalismo? "In terms of the 'Americas,' there is a large contingency of culture that is propagated and gleaned from the Africans, and maybe they're not given credit for it," he says. "It's also happening a lot in other Latin American countries, where you find the Africans that were enslaved and brought there; their presence is found at least in the music."
Jenkins has been back for just a couple of weeks when I visit him, and he's still reeling from being away. From his raw black-and-white analog videos of the '70s, to dance and music in Brazil — where his work isn't specifically about race, but more about African culture and its influences. In Salvador, race doesn't really matter because almost everyone is black. Is this just a matter of fact, or evolution? Jenkins has been working with this subject in his art for four decades. His musical band, othervisions, continues to explore this topic. To understand what got him to Brazil, you have to understand where he came from. His encounters with race in America, and everywhere he goes, have shaped his art and life, and give us a fresh understanding of what it is to be African American, regardless of color.
INTEGRATION AND THE SIXTIES
I arrive at Jenkins' communal studio complex unscathed, although I had to call on my cell to have him open the gate. His home/studio is an expansive, very livable and homey loft, with wind chimes and lots of potted plants outside camouflaging the surrounding pavement. Jenkins sinks into a cozy slipcovered couch adorned with throw pillows and vintage psychedelic posters hanging above, and begins to tell his story. He grew up in LA during the '60s, and everything about him is a spin off those times. He's a youthful 62-year-old, with dreadlocks and beaded chokers. He has bright eyes and a crooked smile that looks like a smirk, and dresses in a casual manner reflecting his chill demeanor.
