Some notes on Pan-Africanism and Black Art in Britain

Where do Black artists stand in relation to generalised or specific ideas of ‘Pan Africanism’? The following notes are an attempt to address this question, with specific relevance to the work of Black artists in Britain during the previous decade. Even from the outset, it can, without difficulty, be confidently suggested that any attempt to demonstrate a healthy working relationship between Black artists and Pan-Africanism must necessarily be based on the existence of written manifestos or statements rather than on and practical or historical ‘reality’. Consciously constructed relationships between artists and Pan Africanism have only ever existed to any real or meaningful degree on paper or through the spoken word. Or else they have been the decidedly idealistic personal agenda of a particularly vocal minority of black artists.

…For example, even though I have undertaken several research visits to the US, and have been privileged to visit many artist studios, and to collect a significant amount of material on African-American artists, I have yet to see examples of work that in any way deals with the hostile political realities of life for Black people in Britain. David Hammons, Elizabeth Catlett, Faith Ringgold, Adrian Piper, and many other US artists have been singularly uninterested in producing work that addresses the experience of Africans of the diaspora beyond the boundaries of the US. Instead, the work by African-American artists that I have seen, as radical, as progressive, as coherent and eloquent as it is, remains unfortunately ‘nationally self-centred’ [if I can use such a term] insofar as it scarcely attempts to connect with African communities living in Europe. And I think it is also fair to state that the same has to be said of contemporary art practice, as it exists in the continent itself. Of course, I would be delighted to be effectively proved wrong on both these assertions…

…This is a sad, surreal and haunting painting in which Colin Henry becomes the lynched man. The lynched man becomes Colin Henry. By identifying with the dead man, the artist and he become one and the same. They essentially share the same experience…

The above extracts are from “Some notes on Pan-Africanism and Black Art in Britain” by Eddie Chambers, Africa World Review magazine, November ’92 – April ’93: 30-31