Brandon Taylor on the Quandary of Black Art

"Even from the position of a critic, it feels like being a Black woman lends an edge to looking at the work of Black women artists. But then-and this is where this novel really situates us in a certain historical context, in a certain place in the "discourse"-if we get mad at a review of a Black artist written by a white person, and our entry into being mad at that review"

"It's the voice in the back of your head that's, like, "Did that person just insult me because they're mean or because they're racist?" Like, "That white critic didn't get me just because they're white." And it's, like, well, was there actual substance to the critique? That's a place where the racial paranoia gets in the way, where it prevents meaningful discourse about art, where it is wielded as a cudgel to delegitimatize actual critique."

"Or art by anyone "marginalized." Wyeth, your protagonist, goes to a show of Southeast Asian artists somewhat knowing he'll hate it, then is almost surprised by the layers of skepticism that he feels when he's there, which is maybe a lesson that even if you think you're going to hate the thing, maybe you should still go watch it or observe it or have an experience."

Racial paranoia around Black art arises from historical incentives for white audiences to delegitimize, disparage, and misread Black work, making suspicion protective and necessary. Attributing criticism primarily to a critic's race shifts debate into the irrational and can delegitimize substantive critique. That paranoia sometimes functions as a cudgel that prevents meaningful discourse and obscures legitimate evaluative points. The same dynamics affect art by other marginalized creators and can produce unexpected layers of skepticism even among viewers who anticipate disliking a show. Attending and observing despite predispositions can reveal complexities and encourage more nuanced responses.

Read at The New Yorker