PULP is pleased to announce a solo exhibition of work by Dr. Imo Nse Imeh.
and i’ll be there with you is a works-in-progress exhibition that features an excerpt of Dr. Imo Nse Imeh’s latest studio project in his name, in conversation with other selected works from his collection of art. in his name is a developing project that offers an historical dive into the intersections of race, religion, and American identity, from the perspective of a Black Christian man. The project’s impetus is the insurrection on the United States Capitol Building that took place last year, January 6th, 2021. However, this terroristic event serves mainly as a point of departure for Imeh’s considerations of other related moments of violence, hatred, and abuse by White people throughout American history, who have veiled their destructive desires behind their self-made image of “Christ.”
in his name consists of large-scale drawings that discuss symbols, objects, rhetoric, and rituals of fear and oppression that have taken root within White American “faith communities”—many of which were on display at the Capitol on January 6th—and have functioned as a means of concretizing a “Christian” White identity. The project seeks to make clear the historical frameworks around recurring events and atrocities in the United States in which White fury and violence against non-Whites take place under the guise of Christianity and “patriotism,” and under the auspices of the American Evangelical Church.
Project Context:
in his name was not imagined in a vacuum; the project has developed concurrently with another series titled BENEDICTION, which features angels in the guise of Black men in a weighty discussion about Black suffering, triumph, and visibility during the throes of recurring trauma.
Dr. Imeh writes:
“It was in the context of the global pandemic that I started my concurrent studio projects titled BENEDICTION and in his name. The profound sense of loss that so many in the world experienced was even more resonant for Black people, who watched helplessly as their already perilous societal dilemmas—both social and economic—were exacerbated and then broadcast to the nation and the world. The violent slayings of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, and the months of world-wide protests that ensued defined the “pandemic year” for Black people in terms of displacement, insecurity, grief, and rage. In addition to this, our nation’s political atmosphere collapsed into familiar depths of racial turmoil and anxiety culminating on January 6th, 2021, when the United States Capitol Building was violently overrun by an angry mob of people—most of whom were white—who raised Christian flags and crosses, even in the midst of gallows that they erected on the Capitol grounds. I wanted to make sense of these events, which all seemed inextricably connected to each other. And I felt urged to respond to my own feelings of betrayal and displacement, both from my faith community and, at the same time, the nation.
in his name is a visual diary that documents the January 6th, 2021 insurrection on the Capitol Building. As a Black man who follows the Christian faith, I was deeply troubled by the images that surrounded the violent protest. I recognized a melding of symbols, flags, and objects from various White nationalist organizations, with representations more aligned with traditional White Evangelical cultural frameworks. I saw the culmination of this fusion in the assembly of two colossal structures on the Capitol that day: a massive wooden cross, so large that it required the aid of several men to hoist it into position, and gallows, constructed within clear view of the Capitol Building, equipped with a platform and a noose. I decided to analyze the events of that day in a series of images that recast the protesters as self-proclaimed “saints” and “patriots” who are disguised with masks as “Jesus Christ,” but solely in his most popular representation within the Judeo-Christian framework, with cascading blonde hair, a well-kempt beard, and large contemplative, heaven-set eyes. The “Jesus” masks, however, are severely worn and cracking, and fail to conceal the hatred demonstrated by those wearing them. Additionally, I redefine the holy sacrament of “communion” as a White collective subscription to violence and domination at all costs.
The following are notes from Imeh’s project ‘The Hope of Radiance’
—”I found myself bewildered when a mob of White people—many from faith communities—descended on the Capitol Building after a year of shutdown, death, and political turmoil to overthrow our government. They gathered at the Capitol—a building constructed with slave labor, whose ground is permeated with sweat, tears, and blood of Black people—bearing historical symbols that were meant to accost and horrify. As a Black Christian man, I can never un-see the images of those large heralded crosses and "Jesus Saves" signs, elevated next to swinging nooses on public execution platforms, embellished with a manifold spectacle of wind-whipped flags, many signaling white American rage, grievance, and cultural aggression. They came with crosses and gallows. They did this on Black hallowed ground.”
—”Often, Black folks are painted into the corner of advocacy, to ensure that we have voices, and to make sure that our stories are told with accuracy. That our history is recorded fairly. We are often destined to become witnesses, to our own traumas and histories. I find myself negotiating with the exhaustion that accompanies unacknowledged grief, and deciding if weeping can be converted into protest. Bearing witness may not always lead to our definition of “justice,” but there is something inherently noble, transformative, and even cleansing about its process. Bearing witness can pierce the wall of indifference and inspire change, granting the downtrodden—like so many of my people—gifts far greater than mere visibility. “
—“It seems as though the pandemic sought to expose as fraudulent the beautified version of ourselves that we had beheld for so long, and to offer a more honest reflection our identities, both individually and as a society. As a Black Christian man, I found myself suddenly unsure of my surroundings and about whom I could lay my trust. And so, I cursed and then blessed the solitude that had been forced on me during this time. And I decided to search for myself in the chaos around me.”
—“The crack of the gunshot that destroyed the life and all the promise of Mr. Ahmad Arbery; the hoarse wails and sobs for mercy by a giant of a man in Mr. George Floyd as he was violently humbled and subdued, restrained, and slowly suffocated to death; buildings on fire, flames on concrete, red brick through windows, my brothers and sisters emotionally exhausted as Hot White Rage galvanized—from sea to shining sea—in a terrifyingly organized fashion. White Rage responds to our cries for justice and mercy with callous fury and resolute determination to “hold the line.. The horrendous murders—like Mr. Arbery’s, like Mr. Floyd’s—some appearing in grainy footage, and others in high-definition, my brothers’ and sisters’ maimed and lifeless forms casually strewn across television screens, reduced to website links, social media likes and shares, Black bodies robbed of natural life and re-animated for the bored and hungry masses as clickbait, the worst moments of their lives memorialized as the newest and promising acquisitions to a well-established and ever-growing archive of Black Final Moments—and our collective awareness of these tragedies heightened so much more because the world stood still….”
Artist Bio:
Dr. Imo Nse Imeh is a Nigerian-American visual artist and scholar of African Diaspora art. Presently, he is Associate Professor of Art and Art History at Westfield State University in Massachusetts. He is a Columbia University alumnus, and received his Masters and Doctoral degrees in Art History from Yale University in 2009.
Dr. Imeh leverages his practice of visual art and research in art history to investigate historical and philosophical issues around the black body and cultural identity. He has made contributions to visual arts discourse with publications, lectures, and provoking studio art projects that interrogate the ways in which black bodies are imagined, installed, ritualized, and transformed. His art has been recognized by PBS News Hour, New England Public Media, Orion Magazine, and the contemporary art and culture magazine Art New England. His large-scale painting Feeding the Veins of the Earth (2020) has been acquired by the Petrucci Family Foundation Collection of African American Art, a prestigious collection of visual art that includes works by world renowned artists such as Kara Walker, Elizabeth Catlett, Romare Bearden, and Kehinde Wilely. His recent project 17 Years Boy: Images, Sounds, and Words Inspired by the Life and Death of a Young Black Boy—created in response to a spark of racist incidents on his campus—utilizes public performance, visual art, and musical tributes to reimagine Trayvon Martin and other slain black boys, in an effort commemorate them while warning viewers of the horrific consequences of ongoing and evolving systems of racial subjugation in the United States.
His current studio project, Benediction, tells the story of a group of angels that have been cast down to earth, and bound to the skins of black boys and men. Their task is to serve as witnesses to the traumas and triumphs that they experience while in this guise. Dr. Imeh considers this series as his personal response—as a black man—to the global pandemic, and the many horrific realities of black existence that the darkness of this plague has elucidated for the entire world to witness.
“My current projects are part of a process of exploration for me as a Black man of faith, in discovering my own continued relationship with Christianity, while also coming to terms with my dismay about the indifference of many in the American Evangelical Christian community on racism, injustice, and suffering in Black and Brown communities. My goal as an artist is to simplify the larger problematic structures of inequality in society, in an effort to inspire new ways of framing history, offer a new and humanizing lens through which we can collectively understand and mourn the victims of an unjust society, and provide opportunities for discussion and reconciliation.”