Revisionist Future at ahha Tulsa

PREVIEW: Revisionist Future

by Mandy Messina

Alexander Tamahn mural on side of Fulton Street Books, image by the artist

One hundred years after an American tragedy, two local artists are presenting viewers with a provocative challenge: Imagine Greenwood 2121.

Artist Antoine Andrews puts it succinctly, “I feel like I’m living my life backwards right now—what do I want people to think of me 100 years from now?” He and collaborating artist, Alexander Tamahn, want to acknowledge the people living in their community, Greenwood.“We are the change we’ve been waiting for,” elaborates Tamahn, echoing a former president as he unpacks the concept of Revisionist Futures. “As opposed to waiting for institutions, organizations, systems outside of ourselves to elevate us, amplify us, mobilize us, we’ve seen time and time again that grassroot efforts make a major difference.” The artists shared hope for the exhibition is that it can help viewers take ownership of their future. In that spirit, “the purpose of this show is to highlight our peers,” Andrews says.

Considering the effects of the current pandemic, Tamahn acknowledges that a lot can happen in a year, but emphasizes how this exercise can impact one’s focus. “If you start fleshing out what you want for yourself 50 years from now, you’re more inclined to function with an intention that helps sustain that vision. What changes do you have to make now, so that your (vision) is attainable?”

Black Moon Collective is a Tulsa artist cohort in its third year of operation. “In our first year as a collective we had between 30 - 35 showings just because so many people were wanting to include us and involve us. That’s great, but we’re by no means the only group of Black and brown artists in Tulsa even,” says Tamahn, a founding member.

While he’s an interdisciplinary artist, Tamahn is currently focused on mural work because of the impact on a community’s visual landscape. “Public art is something that no one needs permission to access and engage with.” He says the importance of exposure to art is significant because institutions that exhibit art have historically been exclusionary of BIPOC. “There’s a reason we’re underrepresented in those spaces—they weren’t created for us.”

Alexander Tamahn in front of Fulton Street Books mural, photo by Alexxus Browning (@pholexx)

Antoine Andrews, photo by the artist

It’s a humbling experience precisely because growing up he and his peers weren’t exposed to visual arts.

Andrews went on to become a hip-hop musician, but says he felt something missing when it came to music, around 2016. He kept at it though, drawing and painting to fill the waiting between gigs and recording sessions. This habit started small, but satisfied a creative itch, and as time went on he found his art practice taking over his music practice. Soon after, he found that he needed a studio space.

“No Parking Studios is a hub for Black men to create paintings,” Andrews tells me. He and longtime collaborators Tyler James, Deren Walker and Cruz, officially formed the collective in March 2020. Their initial space was the former residence of KKK clansman and founder of Tulsa, Tate Brady. The mansion is also where Brady died by suicide.

When asked if they had any unsettling experiences in their old studios Andrews said, “I really feel like the work that me and my community are doing with music, art...we really drove that out of that house”.

His current studio space is shared with another collective he’s a part of, Clean Hands Army. Surrounding himself with artists that he can learn from, Andrews says, “At the stage I’m in as an artist, I couldn’t be in a better space— learning from this great group of guys. That’s why it feels like I’m on a purposeful journey.”

Andrews gives as well as he gets when it comes to radiating influence to his peers. When friends visit him in the studio he tells them, “You’re not going to come over and do nothing! They start painting and go, Bro, we see why you do this! ” He explains that painting is a lot like journaling—after a bad day he can get everything off his chest and transform it into a painting.

“There’s no space for Black men to express themselves freely like that—at least nowhere in my city, in Tulsa.”

Andrews paintings feature not only efficient linework, and effervescent, tangy colours, but he often adds phrases, opting to work with a stream-of-conscious approach. One element that pops up often are the playfully crafted nonsense-rhymes his father would often share. “He would say something like, bump your head on a piece of cornbread. It’s crazy how it comes to me, because none of my stuff is premeditated”.

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Alexander Tamahn at work, photo by James Wayne (@jwaynephoto) Tamahn is trained as a counselor and often facilitates workshops where he uses art as a means for self-care. “There are so many ways to express oneself, to process an idea, to unpack something that often times it comes out sub-consciously.” He sees selfcare as an integral component of people’s success, and eventual thriving. “A lot of times it’s tough to name things - we either don’t have the words to name them or don’t want to name them,” says Tamahn.

Many lifelong Okies were, until recently, quite unaware of the Tulsa Race Massacre. In the span of 48 hours, a white mob from Tulsa pillaged and razed the segregated Black district, leaving damages equivalent to $32.5 million (in contemporary estimates) in real estate and personal property. It was only included in the state’s curriculum in 2020, and will be taught across the state for the first time in 2021.

The work featured in Revisionist Future celebrates Black Tulsan entrepreneurship 100 years after the Tulsa Race Massacre. Tamahn’s murals can be found across the district and city, highlighting local Black owned businesses with their bright, optimistic colours. When asked about these murals, such as the triptych of radical women (Frida Kahlo, Audre Lorde, and Nina Simone) on Fulton Street Books, the artist emphasizes how these partnerships have been collective endeavors.

“I’ve known and engaged with these (entrepreneurs) before Fulton Street became a brick and mortar, or before Silhouette became a tangible space, so there’s a certain degree of pride and connections in knowing the person behind the vision”, he says. “It’s a beautiful thing to open up any number of press releases, articles, exposés and read about a friend that is doing something magnanimous and awe-inspiring because they saw a need in our community instead of just talking about it.”

Revisitonist Future was exhibited at ahha from March 5 - April 24. n