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The display of spirituality, faith and religion is not a new phenomenon among black women in the United States, nor is it new to the world of media. Africans came to the Americas with their own sense of spirituality and religion, and the awareness of a higher being became the mortar that bound the community together during the trials of enslavement and subsequent oppression. Not surprisingly, this legacy of worship continues to provide solace and strength, with black women at the helm.

The premise of the show revolves around six preachers in the Los Angeles area. They each pastor churches ranging from 3,500– 4,000 members; however, one pastor’s church has nearly 20,000 members (season 1: episode 1). A multitude of cameras follow the stories of each of the pastors’ lives, their relationships with each other, as well as their wives relationships with one another. The show has five black male preachers and one white male preacher. In season 1, all of the pastors— except for two— are married; one of the unmarried pastors is engaged to the mother of his child, and the other has a long-standing relationship with a female friend who frequently appears on the show. As viewers watch the show, they are given a glimpse into the world of evangelical preachers. Although at first glance the show seems to only focus on the men, the women provide an interesting glimpse at what it means to be a preacher’s wife, fiancée, or female companion. There were a total of eight episodes that aired over the course of two months. This chapter explores how black women and their friendships are portrayed on Preachers of L.A. — including the one white woman on the show. It also examines their discourse between one another— using critical race feminism to analyze the roles of these women as first ladies (a term used to describe the wives of pastors), their relationship with one other, and the conversations they have surrounding sex, marriage, relationships, and friendships. The chapter focuses on the first season of the show, which began in the fall of 2013. The show was later renewed for a second season, which began airing late summer 2014. This critique attempts to bring awareness to black women in the church and the discourse that perpetuates the stereotypes of black women on television. It also aims to initiate further conversations on various stereotypes— regardless of context— that have the potential to bear negatively on black women.

Five years after Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans, Louisiana, life remained not normal still for many residents of the city. And while mainstream news organizations remembered the fifth anniversary of the hurricane with extensive coverage, it was the work of filmmaker Spike Lee and television program creators David Simon and Eric Overmyer that perhaps created the greatest buzz about the fifth anniversary of Katrina in 2010. Spike Lee’s first documentary, When the Levees Broke , was released in 2006. It documented what happened in New Orleans through the voices of local residents, politicians, and experts during and immediately after the storm.

This project has been engaging my thoughts for nearly a decade. I was forced to actually address it while sitting in our temporary home in Ile-Ife, Nigeria, watching world satellite TV with virtually no Blacks on it. In Nigeria, I became acquainted with Paris-based Fashion TV, U.S.-based Style Network, and the Australian production McLeod’s Daughters. Outside of M-Net’s Africa Magic, a network dedicated to showing Nollywood productions primarily, television was anything but Black. This whitening of the televisual frame, even in Black Africa, made me begin to consider the dearth of knowledge circulating about Black television programming, even when abundance

This essay examines the 2010 NBC situation comedy Outsourced, with special attention to its representation of the racial politics surrounding business process outsourcing to India. Specifically, it discusses how Outsourced participates in what Jodi Melamed calls “neoliberal multiculturalism” to work through, symbolically and narratively, the realities and contradictions of globalized economies as they are experienced. By staging the dilemmas of outsourcing through the specter of the white male middle manager traveling to India to train Indian call center workers, Outsourced minimizes the affective labor necessarily performed by Indian call center workers and dramatizes outsourcing as a crisis of white U.S. masculinity alone. Moreover, it figures our white male protagonist as the global multicultural citizen to be emulated insofar as he models the appropriate attitude toward outsourcing and toward “other” cultures in general. Finally it suggests that the failure of the show has less to do with issues of cultural stereotyping and more to do with the failure of neoliberal multiculturalism to soothe anxieties around changing global economies.

This paper argues that video games expose the presumptions separating “Asian America” and “Asia” in the traditional senses of isolation, origination, and presumed distance. It does so by focusing on the most “Asiatic” genre of video games today, the North American visual novel, which offers a counterdiscourse to normative modes of play and attempts to offer utopic spaces to reflect upon the “real” genres of race and neo–Cold War geopolitics. Using theories of performance from Dorinne Kondo and others, the author shows how queer indie visual novels are primarily aspirational, in that they build queer, utopic, and seemingly anti-racist worlds through the Asiatic space of the visual novel form. In so doing, they also allow players to explore the Asiatic as a means of repairing the traumas and distances of American imperial cultures. The article analyzes four visual novels to make this argument: three by non-racially-identifying North American designers—Doki Doki Literature Club! (2017) by Dan Salvato, Analogue: A Hate Story (2012) by Christine Love, and Heaven Will Be Mine (2018) by Aevee Bee—and Butterfly Soup (2017), a game by the queer Asian/American designer Brianna Lei. If games make the boundaries of Asia and America irrelevant, visual novels explore this irrelevance through Asiatic irreverence.

In several cities in the Southwest and Midwest with sizable enclaves of Chicanos, there are to be found considerable numbers of images that have become leitmotifs of Chicano art. In their ubiquity, these motifs demonstrate that the Chicano phase of Mexican-American art (from 1965 to the 1980s) was nationally dispersed, shared certain common philosophies, and established a network that promoted a hitherto nonexistent cohesion. In other words, it was a movement, not just an individual assembly of Mexican-descent artists. In what follows, Chicano art is examined as statements of a conquered and oppressed people countering oppression and determining their own destiny, though not all the producers of these images necessarily saw their production in the political way they are framed below. Examples have been chosen specifically to show how, in response to exploitation, artists have taken an affirmative stance celebrating race, ethnicity, and class.

"Les liens entre l'art contemporain et les questions de colonialité, postcolonialité, et décolonialité sont anciens et multiples. Des artistes occidentaux et non-occidentaux, depuis plusieurs décennies déjà, s'en sont emparés pour produire des œuvres qui témoignent de leurs engagements politiques, sociétaux et esthétiques. Des concepts que les études postcoloniales ont approfondies ou inventées – agency (agentivité), mimicry (mimétisme/simulacre), ou essentialisme stratégique –, en autant d'outils utiles à démêler la complexité des relations coloniales et, au-delà, de toutes les relations de domination, sont ainsi revisités par les artistes. D'autre part, des auteurs, relevant de ces champs d'études qui conservent aujourd'hui toute leur actualité politique et leur pertinence théorique, disent à leur tour l'intérêt qu'ils portent à la création contemporaine. Associant vingt historiens de l'art et chercheurs en littérature, philosophie, droit ou psychanalyse, Postcolonial/Décolonial. La preuve par l'art présente des travaux portant sur des démarches artistiques (Betye Saar, Fred Wilson, Sarkis, Lidwien van de Ven, Voluspa Jarpa, des artistes du collectif Mira au Mexique, Iris Kensmil, Jean Renoir, et bien d'autres), mais aussi sur des propositions institutionnelles (notamment initiées par le Centro de Arte y Comunicación de Buenos Aires, la Biennale de Venise ou le Van Abbemuseum d'Eindhoven), associées en de nouveaux réseaux de solidarités. Une place particulière est réservée aux singularités artistiques, théoriques et juridiques en Amérique latine, lieu d'émergence des théories décoloniales. Sous un angle historiographique et épistémologique, on trouvera ici des analyses des fondements historiques, théoriques et idéologiques du postcolonial dont les théorisations, loin de la saturation conceptuelle dont certains veulent les accuser, concernent particulièrement l'histoire de l'art. "

In the last decade or so, cinema has revealed itself to be an ideal medium for the transfer and/or remediation of the spoken word as well as stories coming from oral tradition and Indigenous culture. Indeed, cinema is a place of expression which favours cyclical creativity and contributes to the decolonization of stereotyped images propagated by external voices that do not understand the subtleties of languages (real and symbolic) that are anchored in indigenous peoples’ cultural memory. By exploring indigenous cinema as practised by women of diverse nations, this piece demonstrates how cinema can induce the compression and dilation of time, to bring to the audience the fluidity of a story that has been reconfigured according to a new time and carried by spoken words that have chosen to either emancipate themselves from the image or to materialize themselves in it. Furthermore, this article illustrates how a new generation of Indigenous women use cinema to retrace and/or rewrite their personal narrative with the help of autobiographical or collective stories that travel back in time to fill in the blanks left by a fragile memory and to express their will to make peace with a difficult colonial past. Finally, the writings of Lee Maracle (I Am Woman, 1988) and Natasha Kanapé Fontaine (Manifeste Assi, 2014) are being brought forth to show how films such as Suckerfish (Lisa Jackson, 2004) Bithos (Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers, 2015) and Four Faces of the Moon (Amanda Strong, 2016) contribute to the individual and community healing of Indigenous peoples of Canada, through an aesthetic of reconciliation. The exploration of these works, therefore allows us to shed light on and better understand the roles/internal mechanisms of visual autobiographies in the larger context of reconciliation with individual and collective stories/memories.

Tourist art production is a global phenomenon and is increasingly recognized as an important and authentic expression of indigenous visual traditions. These thoughtful, engaging essays provide a comparative perspective on the history, character, and impact of tourist art in colonized societies in three areas of the world: Africa, Oceania, and North America. Ranging broadly historically and geographically, Unpacking Culture is the first collection to bring together substantial case studies on this topic from around the world.

"Si tous les groupes humains sont touchés par la violence à grande échelle, les femmes la subissent sous des formes spécifiques, comme en témoignent les assassinats systémiques des femmes et des filles autochtones en Amérique du Nord et en Amérique latine, ou encore les nombreux conflits armés (Syrie, Lybie, Birmanie, entre autres) dans lesquels le viol est érigé en arme de guerre. Les deux phénomènes peuvent d'ailleurs se recouper puisque l'un des tout premiers féminicides à avoir été qualifié et documenté comme tel en Amérique est celui ayant été perpétré contre les femmes mayas durant la guerre civile guatémaltèque au début des années 1980. Cependant, les femmes ne sont pas seulement les victimes de la violence de masse, puisqu'elles sont aussi les premières à témoigner et dénoncer pour faire barrage à cette violence. Ce numéro hors-série regroupe des articles et des projets visuels qui décrivent et analysent la violence de masse liée au genre. Il s'agit de réfléchir sur la manière de représenter cette violence et d'en témoigner, d'autant plus qu'elle est bien souvent rendue invisible et inaudible par le patriarcat, le colonialisme, les intérêts politiques en présence ou l'impéritie de l'État."

Rapport commandé par le Conseil des arts de Montréal

Mapping Modernisms" brings together scholars working around the world to address the modern arts produced by indigenous and colonized artists. Expanding the contours of modernity and its visual products, the contributors illustrate how these artists engaged with ideas of Primitivism through visual forms and philosophical ideas. Although often overlooked in the literature on global modernisms, artists, artworks, and art patrons moved within and across national and imperial borders, carrying, appropriating, or translating objects, images, and ideas. These itineraries made up the dense networks of modern life, contributing to the crafting of modern subjectivities and of local, transnationally-inflected modernisms. Addressing the silence on indigeneity in established narratives of modernism, the contributors decenter art history's traditional Western orientation and prompt a re-evaluation of canonical understandings of twentieth-century art history. 'Mapping Modernisms' is the first book in Modernist Exchanges, a multivolume project dedicated to rewriting the history of modernism and modernist art to include artists, theorists, art forms, and movements from around the world."

Anthropologists of the senses have long argued that cultures differ in their sensory registers. This groundbreaking volume applies this idea to material culture and the social practices that endow objects with meanings in both colonial and postcolonial relationships. It challenges the privileged position of the sense of vision in the analysis of material culture. Contributors argue that vision can only be understood in relation to the other senses. In this they present another challenge to the assumed western five-sense model, and show how our understanding of material culture in both historical and contemporary contexts might be reconfigured if we consider the role of smell, taste, touch and sound, as well as sight, in making meanings about objects.

Cet article se penche sur la portée philosophique du projet intitulé Jardins éphémères, un ensemble de onze jardins temporaires réalisés dans le cadre des activités visant à célébrer le 400ₑ anniversaire de la fondation de la ville de Québec au cours de l’été 2008. L’organisation, les intentions et les principaux thèmes sous-jacents aux différents projets sont présentés dans leur ensemble. Le jardin intitulé « Wampum 400 », créé par deux artistes autochtones, Domingo Cisneros et Sonia Robertson Piekuakamilnu, fait l’objet d’un commentaire plus long. L’analyse montre que le projet Jardins éphémères dans son ensemble incarnait les principaux enjeux actuels du jardin en ville. Certains aspects reconduisaient la vision idéelle du jardin, d’autres satisfaisaient la logique touristique de l’événement et d’autres, enfin, développaient une position critique qui concerne la réappropriation d’un espace à usage collectif et, du coup, interrogeaient les fondements épistémologiques et ontologiques du « jardin ».

Avec Alex Wilson, Jeffrey McNeil, Teddy Syrette, May Ela and Ahmed Maswadeh.

Published by SITE Santa Fe on occasion of the inaugural SITElines Biennial, 'Unsettled Landscapes'. Unsettled Landscapes was curated by Janet Dees, Irene Hofmann, Candice Hopkins, and Lucía Sanromán. The exhibition, featuring 47 artists from 14 countries, looks at the urgencies, political conditions and historical narratives that inform the work of contemporary artists across the Americas--from Nunavut to Tierra del Fuego. Through three themes--landscape, territory, and trade--this exhibition expresses the interconnections among representations of the land, movement across the land, and economies and resources derived from the land."--Résumé de l'éditeur

When E. Carmen Ramos organized Our America: The Latino Presence in American Art (2013) at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, DC, art holdings of Latinx artists at the institution were minimal and unbalanced. The museum lacked works by foundational figures; entire groups like Dominican Americans were missing, as were genres like abstract art; and with a collection dominated by colonial and folk art and work by Mexican Americans, it was impossible to produce any comprehensive exhibition of contemporary Latinx art, much less one that represented the diversity of artists and trends. Ramos was one of the few Latinx curators hired in the aftermath of the infamous 1994 “Willful Neglect” report documenting a historical pattern of discrimination at the Smithsonian Institute and calling for the hiring of Latinx curators to help direct the Smithsonian’s priorities in research, collections, and exhibitions.1 Twenty-five years later, this pattern of exclusion continues apace. In 2018, a study by UCLA’s Chicano Studies Research Center found that while the Smithsonian’s Latinx workforce grew from 2.5 percent to 10.1 percent, this growth falls short of representing the growth of the Latinx population, which since 1994 has doubled to 17.8 percent of the total population. In sum, the task of putting a dent in a mostly white canonical art history and collection was a daunting one, and whatever Ramos did would be a politically charged intervention. This would be the first major scholarly survey exhibition of Latinx art, a statement to insert it as central to US art history, and the first major show of its type in a major North American museum in decades.