Peter Bradley: In Defense of Black Abstraction

Peter Bradley, Till Then, 2020, acrylic, sand and mica on canvas, 36¾ × 50¾ inches; 93.3 × 128.9 cm

I always perk up a bit when I encounter an African-American artist standing up for the value and beauty of abstract art, including the "right" or rightness of the black artist being the one engaging in said abstraction. One wouldn't think such a proposition would need standing up for, especially in the realm of black aesthetics. I mean, has anyone ever heard of jazz? Nevertheless, as I explored in my post last fall on the art and aesthetic philosophy of sculptor Martin Puryear, there is the recurring notion among activist types, who, we should note, are currently ascendant, that unless the art serves a political purpose it is somehow illegitimate, and worse, is complicit in upholding a racist and/or unjust social order. 

You know how the refrain goes: You might think it's fine to explore and celebrate spirituality and emotion and beauty and the like, but, you know what, people are dying. To which I would respond: You know what, people are living, and as long as they are living they need spirituality and emotion and beauty, and even the kind of ugliness that art is good at. Life always needs the bolstering and celebration and curiosity that true art, including abstract art, brings. We need it now and tomorrow; not, say, later this year, when and if the given bill of your preference passes Congress.

This is all by way of preface to a shout out for the painter of abstracts Peter Bradley, recently the subject of an excellent profile in the (would you believe it?) New York Times by Katya Kazakina. What it boils down to, I guess, is that Bradley is an individualist who holds that Blackness is best served by him being truly and forcefully himself. The article makes clear that being himself has meant a number of things for Bradley. Significantly, he turned down an invitation to participate in the Whitney Museum’s 1971 survey, “Contemporary Black Artists in America," saying recently, “I didn’t want to be in the context of the artists who weren’t any good regardless of color.” In response, he organized a racially integrated show in Houston that same year. In the 80s, he created a residence for abstract artists in South Africa. Bradley remains committed to abstraction, fiercely and irreverently so. As Kazakina writes: "Now as then he vehemently opposes figuration, including 'stupid figurative Black art. A bunch of slaves on boats,' he said." His own aesthetic is firmly based in color. “Look outside," he said to Kazakina, pointing at his garden. “Look how abstract it is out here. Before you see any plants, you see the color. What’s important is the color. Nothing else.” 

Maybe he is his own kind of ideologue! But that's the point. Be who you want to be and believe in your vision. In the new (2020) piece I posted above we see that his vision is a musical one, the visual corollary to the colorful, soulful, complex, inter-dynamic, rhythmic aural abstraction that is jazz, the ultimate flowering of 20th century black aesthetics, creative black engagement with the world, unjust, just, or otherwise. Indeed, at one point in the piece, Bradley says, simply, "I feel like I am composing music." I could see musicians playing this painting like it was a musical score. Just assign each instrument to a different color and have them go for it.