Creative Introduction

Abstract

Creative Introduction Walidah Imarisha "But in their own way, the new generation—to whom so much had been given, from whom so much was being stolen, for whom so little would be promised—would not settle for the things previous generations had been willing to settle for. Concede them a demand and they would demand more. Give them an apocalypse, and they would dance" (Chang 19). Jeff Chang's words above were written about the youth who created hip hop in 1970s South Bronx. And yet it feels timeless and absolutely relevant today. This is partially because the same structural inequalities, staggering disparities, and systemic oppressions that shaped the lives of late 20th century poor/working class urban Black and Brown kids still sculpt the present. But likewise, this same spirit of creative resistance, righteous rebellion, and innovative audacity pervade the art of those who are metaphorically dancing through this current apocalypse. The ability to dance through an apocalypse is something communities of color have honed and perfected over the countless generations of destruction they have survived, in this nation and globally. Having lived through so many historic and ongoing assaults, communities of color have made themselves into fire-activated seeds, like the eucalyptus. The eucalyptus understands the world it lives in, understands fire is inevitable, and plans for it. The heat releases the seed, allowing new life to be birthed in an inferno. As Black feminist science fiction writer and luminary Octavia E. Butler wrote, "In order to rise / from its own ashes / A phoenix / First / Must / Burn" (137). The rise of so many movements for justice and liberation within communities of color is the seed sprouting in the blaze, the phoenix ever rising from previous [End Page 17] generations' pyres. Amidst the literal fires ravaging our planet, along with so many other climate catastrophes, Indigenous communities continue to be the warrior caretakers for us all. Through the decades and centuries of onslaught against Black communities by law enforcement, again and again resistance movements like Black Lives Matter have exploded forth. And of course all of these movements are not only connected, they breathe deeply as one, exhaling liberation dreams. Those in these movements hold hope even in the face of the unimaginably brutal. "Let this radicalize you rather than lead you to despair," prison abolitionist Mariame Kaba instructed us. Art is a powerful arena for this alchemic process of transmuting pain and horror into hope. Art allows us to not only sustain ourselves through trauma, but also allows us to imagine a way through it. When we cannot see beyond the abyss beneath our feet, we cling to the edge. But what if the abyss is actually a portal? As A.J. Hudson writes in the essay "The End of the World, for Whom?": "One way or another Climate Change will end our world. But not all endings are bleak." The "Curating At the End of the World" exhibit shows that apocalypse has happened before. It is sometimes necessary for the new to be born. Created to respond to the multitude of intersecting "existential threats" to Black people in the diaspora, the first section of the exhibit opened online during the beginnings of the pandemic, when so much felt terrifying and unknown, dystopic and devastating. The three art pieces reprinted here show the breadth of the response to that ongoing crisis, which of course is connected to all other crises. The images capture the horror but also the hope not just of these artists but also Black communities. It helps recenter the historic certainty of Black visionary survival rooted in Black creativity that is our birthright. As Reynaldo Anderson and Sheree Renee Thomas write in their essay, "This work is remembrance and resurrection, resistance and restored hope in a social, economic, and political landscape of uprisings and upheaval, strange fruit buried in scorched earth." This is the charge of the artist in all times but especially these times. If artists of color are truly honest about themselves, their communities, and this world, they have to be disruptors and subversives. In a country rooted in white supremacist hetero-patriarchal capitalism (word to bell hooks), to see people of color...