Exhibiting A Pattern Of Pride - Review

University's exhibit on kente involves local students and helps museums fulfill their responsibilities to minority communities

Ann Spencer spent nearly 13 years traveling the same route from her home in Plainfield, N.J., to her job at the Newark Museum. But in the summer of 1994, her commute became the starting point for an unusual bi-coastal collaborative exhibit that paired two prestigious museums with a small group of teenagers.

"I was walking from the train station to work and I remember I noticed this woman walking in front of me who was wearing a kente print blouse," says Spencer, a curator of Africa, the Americas, and the Pacific.

Over the next few months she noticed more and more residents wearing kente, and storefronts selling print tote bags, umbrellas, and even backpacks made from the cloth.

"At first I made a mental note of what I saw and even asked a few people about it. But then I thought to myself, `What stories these people must have to tell.' I suppose I could have done it, but it seemed to me that it would be interesting to have students do the interviews and learn about it."

That next year Spencer picked up the telephone and called Doran H. Ross, an authority on kente cloth and director of the Fowler Museum at UCLA.

"I had no idea Doran was thinking of doing a kente exhibit. I was just looking for people with expertise and so I told him my idea," she says.

Nearly four years later, that conversation produced "Wrapped in Pride: Ghanaian Kente and African American Identity." The exhibit, unique for many reasons, is a comprehensive retrospective of kente cloth's history, cultural significance, and meaning -- both in Ghana and in the United States.

Icon Status

Originally worn by Asante and Ewe royalty in Ghana, kente cloth is known for its remarkable color and weave. It is synonymous with ceremony and power in Ghana, where it remains a symbol of distinction and tradition as both garments and ceremonial cloth.

Kente's history is as rich as its weave. Created by the Asante tribe in the late 17th century, its roots date back thousands of years when weavers are said to have tried to copy a spider's web. These days, the cloth is woven in narrow strips and then sewn together. The patterns are varied and each carries its own meaning. In the United States, it has become one of the most popular symbols of Black identity.

"In contemporary America, kente cloth represents African Americans," says James Burks, director of the William Grant Stills Art Center in Los Angeles and director of the African Market Place, an annual festival celebrating Black culture in Los Angeles. "I believe people wear it because they like it and they may feel it puts them closer to their `African-ness.'"

Today, kente print is not only commonplace among African Americans. Latino students also have been known to wear kente stoles at graduation ceremonies.

And it's that icon status that Ross and Spencer hoped to present in the exhibit using the work of Newark and Los Angeles teenagers.

"I think this is a good model for people and other institutions to live up to," says Dr. Lisa Aronson, a professor of art history at Skidmore College in New York. "There is this perceived arrogance of curators that they do this stuffy work, but this project cuts through that and reaches out to people. And anytime you can make an exhibit [as] accessible as they've done in this case, I think you've done your job."

Young Recruits

Aronson's praise reflects Spencer's and Ross' decision to invest a year working at three area schools to ensure the project wasn't simply a gesture of inclusion.

"I guess it was a leap of faith since I had never taught in the public schools. But it seemed to me this project was something the kids could do," says Ross, sitting in his first floor office that is filled with more than 25 years of research on African textiles -- including books, masks, and other African art. "This is a component of the research that was missing and it was something I just thought the students could do."

Together with Spencer and Betsy Quick, the three developed a curriculum that included a rigorous art history course, an introduction to museum studies, and seminars on conducting oral histories and documenting their work. The purpose was simple: students would conduct research into kente's use and meaning in popular culture by interviewing residents who wore the cloth. Their research would then become a companion display to the exhibit.

In Newark, Spencer worked with 26 teenagers from Chad Science Academy and University High School who spent a year collecting stories from within the neighborhood. In Los Angeles, Ross and Quick approached Susan Curran, a teacher at Crenshaw High School in South Los Angeles who was a regular visitor to the Fowler.

"I was thrilled because you don't often get a museum like the Fowler to come in and do this type of work," says Curran, now an art teacher at West Los Angeles High School.

Curran helped recruit a small group of advanced students like Danielle E. Smith, who interviewed former Los Angeles Police Chief Willie Williams.

"I wear it as a linkage to a history that's not known and may never be known ... I am proud to wear and display something that identifies me by my ethnic origin and ties me to my past," Williams told Smith.

"The project sounded so different," says Smith. "I had just taken an art history class and then I heard about this and thought it would be interesting. I mean, I know a lot of African Americans use [kente] to symbolize their pride, but I really didn't know that much about the history of it."

Local Favor

The exhibit, which opened Feb. 14 at the Fowler Museum in Los Angeles, has already captured the attention of local activists and artists who say that despite museums, public pledges to reach out to more diverse communities, those promises rarely produce real partnerships.

"There is a big absence of Blacks in museums," says Burks. "By getting the kids involved, you not only get this awareness of kente, but of the jobs of the people at the museum. It's an opportunity to perhaps get internships and consider the arts."

"I teach African art here at Skidmore and I rarely get an African American student in my class," says Aronson. "I think art history, which is the normal route many people go, is thought of as ephemeral, and has an elite quality or a stigma attached to it.... It just isn't seen as a field that draws enough minorities."

Ross smiles at the praise, adding that three of the students received prestigious Getty grants the following year to work at the Fowler Museum. "They really did a remarkable job," he says.

For Smith--whose father, Olympic medalist Tommy Smith, captured worldwide attention in the 1968 Olympics when he raised his fist and lowered his head on the medal-presentation platform as a sign of Black power -- the exhibit remains a part of her life.

"I knew what kente represented in my family because we'd worn it to church," she says. "But what ended up happening is we had a series of conversations because we've always worn it but we'd never realized what the weaver intended it to mean."

Now a sophomore at Pitzer College in Claremont, Smith is considering a career in the arts.

"Definitely, the exhibit has made me think about majoring in art history," she says.

And that, says artist John Outterbridge, is a responsibility museums have with communities but rarely meet.

"For years, there has been an awareness of the need to go out into these communities, but there hasn't been the commitment to truly get involved," says Outterbridge. "And this kind of program seems to address that and should be ongoing ... museums have a responsibility not only to do research and exhibits, but to share it with the public."

"Wrapped in Pride: Ghanaian Kente and African American Identity" remains on view at the Fowler through July. It then travels to the National Museum of African Art in Washington, D. C., and the Detroit Museum of African Amen?an History.

RELATED ARTICLE: A Symbol with Many Uses

Bill Clinton wrapped himself in it on his 1998 trip to Africa. A newly freed Nelson Mandela graced the 1990 cover of Time magazine wearing it. And then-heavy-weight champion Muhammad Ali wore it throughout much his visit to Africa in 1964.

Kente cloth's place in American culture is unrivaled. The cloth's dazzling colors and singular weaves have become a symbol of Black identity and power in this country.

But as its popularity grows, so has the debate over its use and meaning.

Today, kente is found just about everywhere and with a variety of uses. Clothing, backpacks, and even advertisements featuring corporate logos made of kente are just some of the ways it is used. But its history in this country is relatively short.

Kente first captured the attention and imagination of African Americans nearly 40 years ago when Ghana's first president, Kwame Nkrumah, wore it during his visit to the United States. Nkrumah's image graced dozens of magazines and newspapers including Ebony, The New York Times and Life Magazine. By 1991, selling kente and other African-style cloths was a booming business -- topping more than $14 billion in the United States. That popularity has touched off a debate over how kente is used in this country.

"Some people are opposed to how [kente] is being used, as a runner for example," says Doran H. Ross, co-curator of the "Wrapped in Pride" exhibit (see Exhibiting a Pattern of Pride, pg. 46).

Ross cautions, however, that while kente may have once been used primarily by Asante chiefs in ceremonies, treating it as a sacred cloth is -- for most Americans -- a thing of the past.

"One of the lacunas with kente is it is often dealt only with traditional form. But in fact, some of the most interesting forms are the contemporary uses of it," she says.

Among the most popular uses of kente are during special ceremonies, such as graduations, and by community leaders. But that hasn't been without its problems. In 1992, a Washington, D.C., judge ordered a defense attorney to remove the kente cloth he was wearing during a trial. Four years later, two high school seniors from Muskogee, Okla., had their diplomas withheld for wearing kente stoles during the graduation ceremony. The school eventually backed down after the ACLU stepped in on behalf of the students.

But do most African Americans understand its roots? Probably not, says James Burks, director of the William Grant Stills Art Center in Los Angeles and director of the African Market Place, a three-week celebration of African culture.

"I think everyone has an understanding of its symbolic meaning. But its historic meaning, no, most people probably don't know," says Burks.

And that's okay, according to Ross, who says that while kente is showing up in all sorts of places, its iconic status ensures this exquisite cloth isn't losing its significance.

"I don't think its taken for granted," he says. "People who tell you it should just be used as a garment miss that it has been used in many more art forms in Ghana. There are just multiple uses for it."

-- Sandra Hernandez

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