The War of the Art Worlds Kehinde Wiley: An Archeology of Silence Vs. The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England

By Bill Carmel, MFA

Two exhibitions coexisted for several months at the Fine Art Museums of San Francisco: one about the legacy of colonialism (“The Tudors, Art and Majesty in Renaissance England,” at the California Palace of the Legion of Honor) and an active satire of artwork like it (“Kehinde Wiley: An Archaeology of Silence,” at the de Young).

Almost all the art produced during the reign of the Tudor monarchs, from 1485 to 1603, was commissioned by and for the Crown and the aristocracy. These art objects were dazzling and sophisticated, mainly because they were produced almost entirely by the greatest non-English artists of Europe at that time. Artists in all the kingdoms and empires of Europe were hired to glorify their patrons with regal, lavish, opulent images and objects befitting the (dominant, White, privileged, and wealthy) court cultures and religions. The Tudors used this propaganda to legitimize their tenuous claim to the English crown and to rationalize their wars of territory and servitude.

The artists commissioned by the Tudor dynasty were considered just as masterful in their time as Kehinde Wiley is considered masterful today. However, any artist who produced work that satirized or otherwise confronted the Crown ran the risk of being blacklisted, imprisoned, or executed, in spite of the humanistic ideals becoming popular at the time. Many Renaissance artists traveled throughout Europe’s capital cities to find work or escape censure and death.

Nicholas Hilliard, Queen Elizabeth 1, 1578, oil on canvas. This iconic portrait represents the White majesty of the Tudor dynasty by a White master artist.
Although foreign non-White aristocrats, merchants, domestics, and slaves from Africa, the Middle East, and Asia were living in England, colonialism began during the reign of the Tudors. But England’s participation in the slave trade did not get into full swing until the middle of the seventeenth century. No English laws prohibited slavery, but none approved or defined it either. It may be that ordinary Black Tudors were no worse off than White ones. Records indicate that Africans were baptized, married, and buried within church life. Depictions of people of color in art are rare in all European art of this time.

Even so, the Tudor exhibition wall tags make only a passing mention of the constant Tudor wars and the tyranny of Henry the 8th. Also not mentioned are the horrors and repression he unleashed on the English population when he outlawed Catholicism in England in 1534. In its place he imposed the Anglican church, his own version of Protestantism. European monarchs perpetuated the slave trade, diaspora, and religious conflict that helped engender the systemic and pervasive racism, persecution, discrimination, and hate that persists within all cultures today, despite our best intentions. When artists acknowledge these centuries of oppression at the hands of royalty and national leaders, their artwork helps us experience a social catharsis. Wiley demonstrates that redemption becomes possible when creative hands are given a forum for exhibiting or publishing their protest artworks.

Wiley’s new body of sculptures and paintings, The Archeology of Silence exhibit at the de Young, boldly usurps the institutional iconography of racism and bigotry against marginalized non-White communities. He modifies the aesthetic imagery of regal grandeur to impart gravitas and empowerment to contemporary oppressed people. These artworks remain a powerful eclipse of art history ideas of ethos, pathos, logos, and mythos. Wiley rises above the usual depiction of victimization, bigotry, and dehumanization to awaken us to a chorus of sublime voices.

Kehinde Wiley, installation view of “An Archeology of Silence” at the de Young Museum. Photo by Gary Sexton.

At first inspired by Hans Holbein the Younger’s The Dead Christ in the Tomb (1521–1522), Wiley transforms the rage and violence against men and women of color into iconic poses similar to those in the art historical lexicon of heroes, martyrs, and saints. The scale of the acrylic paintings and cast bronze sculptures ranges from smaller than life-size to monumental. Wiley understands the importance of scale. He says, “History is married to scale. War, history, and scale form a type of trifecta, which ultimately serves the purpose of communicating the broader goals of empire.” The monumental proportions of the exhibition become a “spectacle brought to you by the formerly enslaved.”

The dignity conferred to the fallen and suffering figures is undeniable.

The Fine Art Museums of San Francisco missed an opportunity to show these two exhibits side by side. Surely there is an essential dialogue that is possible when comparing and contrasting the artwork commissioned by English royalty, the epitome of abuse of power, and the artwork produced by Wiley, who effectively satirizes and memorializes the abuse of power. This could have been a lesson in Kairos, the art of making the best comparison at the right time and in the right place. It could have contrasted the iconography and symbolism chosen by royalty and their mercenaries with artworks by a contemporary artist, Wiley, who makes art with opposing viewpoints.
This could have been an effective aesthetic (Socratic) comparison and contrast of the stories (with ethics, logic, and emotion) between the ghosts of our past and our present societal afflictions. “Catharsis into Redemption” could have been a theme for the juxtaposition of both exhibitions, Wiley and the Tudors.

Is it time for catharsis and redemption? Is it time for our public supported museums to disempower these collections of the wealthy and elite by exhibiting more local contemporary artists? The de Young 2020 and 2023 Open artists represent the Kairos part of the aesthetic (Socratic) fine art discussion: that is, being in the right place at the right time, making the best images that call out our shortcomings, and helping us heal those wounds. So many contemporary artists are making fabulous artworks in many media, yet they aren’t in the permanent collections. The de Young Open exhibits demonstrate that there is enough regional art being produced to contrast effectively with much of the traditional art in museum collections.

George Catlin, Sha-ko-ka, Mint, A Mandan Indian Girl, 1832, Oil on Canvas. 29×24, Smithsonian American Art Museum. Although Catlin was sympathetic to and respectful of First Nation culture, the portrait resembles the iconic pictorial traditions of European White oppressors. Notice the differences in how artist Rose Simpson, a member of a First Nation culture, makes a portrait.

Rose Simpson, Warrior, 2013, Denver Art Museum. 67x27x18. Clay and mixed media

A case in point is the idea of “manifest destiny,” which was used to justify the American expansion of empire from the Atlantic to the Pacific and beyond. Artists traditionally use the iconography of the ruling class to produce images for the ruling class, especially when the subjects of the images are the oppressed and dispossessed. Although artists may have had the best of intentions, like Catlin when he painted the portrait “A Mandan Indian Girl,” their sympathetic artwork was made to be viewed by the conquering culture as agencies of their power, wealth, and dominance. An edifying way to exhibit these artworks would be next to artworks of past and contemporary marginalized artists, to emphasize empathy rather than sympathy.

Yes, the artworks produced for the wealthy and powerful are beautiful and masterful, but they rarely espouse the diversity, equity, and inclusion that many of us hold to be self-evident now. Is it time to include more of the works of artists who work with ideas that reflect contemporary and future social, aesthetic, and media values?

Wall tags or other appropriate narrative devices could note the similarities and differences in consciousness. Exposure to different points of view within our public and private institutions offers a positive way to demonstrate empathy and tolerance and call out violence, bigotry, and hate. We need more art about identity that artists such as Wiley and Simpson offer.

The differences between the George Catlin portrait and the Rose Simpson self-portrait instruct us in the ways that cultures frame a point of view about identity. Museums should continue their role of being “upstanders,” exhibiting authentic artifacts made by all members of society. This approach would represent a pathway for museums to follow to become more inclusive, equitable, and diverse.

In the past several years the deYoung museum featured an increasing number of exhibits that call out gender disparity and feature culturally authentic artists, for example: Hung Liu (2023); Faith Ringgold, Alice Neel, and Judy Chicago (2022); and Frida Kahlo (2021). Perhaps the museums would consider juxtaposing these and other artists whose artworks address themes in divergent ways with art made by artists who embrace dominant cultural values and who address those same themes. The main idea is to highlight the similarities and differences in cultural approaches to these themes by placing artworks in the permanent collection next to artworks by contemporary artists.

I encourage the Fine Art Museums of San Francisco to continue to relate their exhibits directly to evolving cultures, to evolve with artists and patrons into a more democratic showcase for the art produced by all cultures. Let the community experience local, regional, and worldwide creativity in the beautiful exhibition spaces of the San Francisco Bay Area museums.

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