Many
of Portland's young artists want to show you their traumatic experiences
with fashion, their exciting times with nature or their theories
on art. Not damali ayo. For the past three months, the 29-year-old
artist has pounded out assemblages on a topic rarely touched in
Portland's art world: racism. Her installation Shift: we are
not yet done, opening at Mark Woolley Gallery on Thursday,
breaks with local trends and explores color divisions in every
day society.
Ayo's
studio, at the back of the Carleton-Hart Architecture Firm, is
as wonderfully messy as her art, which often reveals the hot glue
and nails that bind it. When I visited, two glass mugs stood on
a table, ready for ayo's 3 o'clock tea time, next to recently
completed "inventions," everyday objects redesigned
with explicit racial overtones (a nametag reads "Hello, My
Race is...").
The
self-taught artist, who creates sets for defunkt theater and has
participated in small group exhibitions, sprinted around the space
between found and artist-produced objects in bare feet, a hammer
slung through a belt loop and a green handkerchief in her pocket.
She talked eagerly about a piece inspired by the actress Lisa
Bonet, whom people say she resembles.
As
with most things in life--from Mickey Mouse to her last name of
Patterson (which she dropped; ayo is a middle name)--damali sees
this comparison in terms of race. For Shift, she combined
text with photos of Bonet and other celebrities she supposedly
looks like, namely Alice Walker and Whoopi Goldberg. Oh, and Meg
Ryan. "It'll make people think," says the artist. Ayo
was born, she says, of a Malcolm X mother and an MLK father, and
is not someone likely to be cast to give Tom Hanks bunny love.
"It's more interesting to me when people say I look like
Meg Ryan. It tells me they're looking at my face and features,
not just my skin color."
If
ayo is not the Princess of Subtlety, then she is the Diana of
Fierce Intelligence. Her rough and raw work, which often includes
poetry, is one part bluntness, one part argumentation, and one
part passion. It persuades more than evokes. "She's challenging,
invigorating, exploratory," says architect Bill Hart, who
helped damali procure the temporary studio. "She presents
a lot of different ideas and thoughts. Some of her ideas are easy
to digest. Others are a little rougher." Says ayo, "People
ask me what I do, and then they say, 'Why do you make this uncomfortable
stuff?'"
As
for her work, ayo uses anything she can get her hands on. In Shift,
salt shakers, coffee-can lamps and ripped-up sheets hang together
like the booty from a construction-yard raid. A Brown University
graduate with degrees in Public Policy and American Civilization,
this analytical soul became an artist by near-epiphany two years
ago, after a short career leading diversity workshops (although
ayo had tinkered with art ever since building a model of the White
House in fourth grade). "When I was in college, I did a lot
of critical race theory writing, but realized quickly that I'd
said all I wanted to with words," she states. "After
I moved here I was dealing with such ignorance, I had a dream
about a piece of artwork that told a story about racism in the
educational system. I woke up in the morning and created the work
and just never stopped doing it."
Shift
includes a series of blindfolds, one of which is labeled "I
don't see it that way." "People always say that to me,
as if I were stating an opinion," she says. "I'm revealing
the truth of systemic racism, and I'm telling stories from my
life." Past exhibitions have told more personal stories.
A graphic photo nailed to a slip last year caused some audience
members at Artists Repertory Theatre's gallery to wonder if she'd
been raped. Shift, ayo jokes, is the first exhibition that doesn't
have a picture of her naked.
Along
with her ambition, ayo is building her career with savvy and honesty.
"Her approach was thoughtful and direct when she came in
to meet me," says Mark Woolley. "She said, 'I've seen
every gallery in town. This one suits my work. Tell me how I can
show here.' I appreciated that honesty." While I perused
the studio, ayo installed lighting in an old cable spool turned
table. In the finished project, people will sit at different place
settings and listen to a conversation on headphones. "I want
that people won't look at the world the same way again,"
she says. "It has to make a strong statement in the gallery
and then diffuse in the world to subtle effect. I want to defy
convention. I want Shift to be something people share and
describe to each other. If I can do that, I'll feel like I've
succeeded."
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from: Willamette Week Arts and Culture
Originally
published
Wednesday, September 05, 2001
