Deana Lawson

By Suzanne Révy

The history of western art is replete with examples of paintings and sculptures of fleshy nude women situated in halcyon landscapes, traditionally created by and presented for the viewing pleasure of white men. In her 1975 essay, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, Laura Mulvey coined the term “male gaze,” and though she was writing about the movies, the term describes a multitude of works across different media of the visual and performing arts. In a mid-career retrospective at the ICA Boston through February 27th, 2022, photographer Deana Lawson disrupts notions of both white and male gaze, giving voice to the Black community habitually overlooked in the annals of art and photography history.

Installation view, Deana Lawson, The Institute of Contemporary Art/Boston, 2021. Photo by Mel Taing. (Courtesy of the ICA Boston)

Deana Lawson’s portraits raise questions regarding the relationships between her sitters and their transaction with the photographer. They are shrouded in the same kind of mystery as untethered vernacular snapshots. In fact, Lawson collects vintage drugstore prints and they anchor the corners of several galleries in the show. Her palette and use of glaring light mirrors the small images which are installed with specimen pins, suggesting that they have been the subject of careful study. In fact, her portraits recall the snapshot aesthetic of Nan Goldin, but unlike Goldin, who photographed an inner circle of close friends, Lawson photographs strangers in their own homes or yards. Her ability to imply intimate bonds through these brief encounters results in staged portraits that are penetrating and deeply psychological. 

“Wanda and Daughters” by Deana Lawson, 2009, pigment print. (Installation photograph by Suzanne Révy)

Her use of the nude figure most directly resists western ideals of the female form, and indeed, challenges faulty impressions of Black families. In Baby Sleep, for example, a small baby naps in a swing, while the nude mother embraces her partner seated in a chair nearby. The couple’s desire for each other is clear, while the result of that love softly sleeps, insisting viewers acknowledge the nuances of yearning and familial affection. In The Garden she photographs a nude couple surrounded by lush foliage, the man gently clasping the woman’s belly as their faces lean into to each other. This picture with biblical overtones summons the story of Adam and Eve and was taken in the Democratic Republic of Congo on the African continent where human life is thought to have begun.

“Baby Sleep” by Deana Lawson, 2009, pigment print. (Installation photograph by Suzanne Révy)

In other portraits, the nude is more unsettling. Three female figures perform the splits in one, and in another, three women stand sideways with faces turned coquettishly toward the camera. Both recall the Judgement of Paris from Greek myth: Paris, a mortal, was tasked by the god Zeus with declaring the fairest of three Goddesses, a subject revisited in countless renditions of art since the medieval era. Is Lawson celebrating Black womanhood or objectifying it? Does it matter? After all, she is adding a female voice of color that interrogates the propriety of the white male gaze and – by extension – how audiences have been complicit in shaping that gaze. 

“Coulson Family” by Deana Lawson, 2008, pigment print, courtesy of the artist and Sikkema Jenkins & Co., NYC and David Korndasky Gallery, Los Angeles, and the ICA Boston. ©Deana Lawson

“”Kingdom Come” (left) “Sons of Crush” (center) and collected snapshots (right) by Deana Lawson. (Installation view, Deana Lawson, The Institute of Contemporary Art/Boston, 2021. Photo by Mel Taing, courtesy of ICA Boston)

What I find most enduring are the pictures of families, friends and couples within the domestic sphere, which seek to force recognition of the trauma and triumphs of Black life. Kingdom Come celebrates a rich tapestry of Ethiopian culture and Sons of Crush challenges the rampant stereotype of neglectful fathers. Both praise the complexity of Black communities around the world. In Nation, however, we are confronted with excruciating trauma. Two shirtless young men engage the camera from a leather couch, one wearing a mouth apparatus that has a picture inserted into the frame depicting George Washington’s dentures, said to be made from the teeth of slaves. The legacy of slavery is a painful one, and viewers are bidden to feel physical agony in this emotionally charged photograph. 

“Sons of Cush” 2016, by Deana Lawson, pigment print. Courtesy the artist; Sikkema Jenkins & Co., New York; and David Kordansky, Los Angeles. © Deana Lawson

Lawson reveals little of her process. Though her light and palette may share a kinship with the spontaneity of snapshots, her constructed and occasionally collaged tableaux are confrontational, a premeditated rebellion against the art world’s white, male status quo. In the process, Dawson demonstrates a potent, singular eye for the complexity of previously unappreciated human interactions. 

“Nation” by Deana Lawson 2018, pigment print with collaged photograph, courtesy of the artist, Sikkema Jenkins & Co., NYC, David Korndasky Gallery, Los Angeles and the ICA Boston.

For more information: https://www.icaboston.org