VALS is pleased to present Renee Cox Tuesday September 19th 2017 at 6:30 P.M.
Renee Cox is a Jamaican-American who uses the body as a subject to evoke conversations about culture, gender, and activism. Cox uses digital technology to reconfigure the black woman’s body and disturb religious imagery. Her work from the beginning is concerned with social issues in America, particularly in relation to racism and sexism. Some of Renee Cox most notable works are American Family, Yo Mama’s Last Supper, and The Discreet Charm of the Bougies.
(by Ruhee Maknojia)
Some research material:
Bio/CV
Lecture:
Reviews:
Interviews:
Dope Brooklyn Museum Archive
Her Website’s Collection of Press:
Finally some thought by me (Yasi), if you want to tolerate my rambling mind
Yesterday, I was walking the streets of this city, with the never-ending anxiety I carry—specifically about our weird world and the limits of all I can do as a maker,
and I had a sudden unexpected talk with the people of our beloved juice place “Oasis” and he told me, enthusiastically, of the revolution of his Ethopia that is in the making right now.
And I felt a warmth,
I thought of the poem below.
And I thought how happy I was Renee Cox coming, this fighter that has never stopped speaking up, never even paused.
How delighted I am to meet and listen to one of those that has been carved this path I’m on.
Anyway, That’s all
.
“To be in a time of War”, Etel Adnan, (the Lebanese poet/painter writing in response to the news of war in Iraq)
To destroy both the inner and the outer wall. To inhabit the city which has been conquered by murder. To add ruins over ruins. To be jealous of Babylon. To spray hatred on its corpses as well as on the living. To burn live matter. To water the palm trees with
fire; that’s a barbarian’s job. To diagnose madness in those who exterminate Iraq. Not to forget the British in this. Not to
forget, ever. To swear by the mountain and its height that nothing will ever be forgotten. To brand the brain’s skin with Inanna’s
name, to call her to life. To bring her to resurrection. To revive the belief in metempsychosis. Not to love. To sleep in order to
stay late at night. To discover that the infinitive is a delusion. To lose one’s footing.
[…]
To turn the page without moving into a new life. To put on the radio. To listen and receive much poison on one’s face. To curse the hour, the fire, the deluge and hell. To lose patience. To lynch misfortune. To prevent the trajectory of inner defeat from reaching the centre. To resist. To stand up. To raise the volume. To learn that the marches against the war are growing in number. To admit that human nature is multifaceted. To know that war is everywhere. To admit that some do win. To drink some water. To turn in circles. To pretend that one is not spent out. To believe it. To pretend. To discuss with one’s heart. To talk to it. To quiet it down, if possible. To curse the savagery of the technologically powered new crusades. To remain in doubt. To come out of it in triumph.
[…]
To dream of deserts, to count the cactuses and all venomous plants
Chux Y’all
