Artists’ grant applications tend to be anodyne things because the point of them is often to appeal to an organization’s sensibilities, not to take a stand. But take a stand is what Elizabeth Catlett did in 1945 when she wrote of the “double handicap of race and sex” that Black women like herself faced. “Because of subtle American propaganda in the movies, radio and stage they have come to be generally regarded as good cooks, housemaids and nurses and little else,” Catlett wrote in her Rosenwald Fellowship plan in 1945.
“At this time when we are fighting an all out war against tyranny and oppression,” she continued, “it is extremely important that the picture of Negro women as participants in this fight, throughout the history of America, be sharply drawn.” She referred to the rape of Recy Taylor by six white men the year before; Taylor’s assailants were never indicted.
Catlett’s art rebuts an avalanche of racist, misogynistic images that she frequently encountered, offering pictures of strength, endurance, and proud femininity. Working in sculpture, painting, and printmaking, Catlett took styles associated with European modernism, then applied them to Black women, who were often demeaned or altogether ignored by white male artists abroad. The artist, who started out in the US before achieving fame in Mexico, would go on to produce works referring explicitly to a range of political subjects, from the imprisonment of Angela Davis to the stripping of rights from Indigenous Mexicans.
In doing so, she asked prescient questions, ones that have recently been taken up anew by generations of artists after her: What makes a good form of representation? And can images move people to action, raising political consciousness among the masses?
Now, for the first time in nearly 25 years, Catlett is the subject of a proper US retrospective, with some 150 of her works in multiple mediums brought together at the Brooklyn Museum. (After it closes in New York, the exhibition heads next to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., which co-organized it, and then to the Art Institute of Chicago.) The exhibition makes a compelling case that Catlett, though hardly overlooked in the history of American modernism, deserves to be viewed as a transnational pioneer and one of the finest 20th-century artists. Below, a look at five essential works by Catlett, each of which appears in the Brooklyn show.
