By Anna Samsonov
Since George Floyd’s death in late May, the streets of America have seen a number of paint jobs. “Black Lives Matter” murals have popped up all over the country, from the bright yellow lettering outside of the Trump Tower in New York City to the colorful (and now permanent) mural on Seattle’s Capitol Hill. The murals are often uplifting and powerful, meant to represent a belief in and commitment to social justice in these communities; the street art has been praised by local community members and political officials as a “potent symbol of free speech and civil rights.” But the question arises: who are the murals benefitting?
Events in Washington, D.C. provide an excellent case study. On June 5, Mayor Muriel Bowser had “Black Lives Matter” painted along 16th Street and officially renamed the section of the street in front of the White House to “Black Lives Matter Plaza.” During a news conference, Bowser said that the message is “that black lives matter, black humanity matters, and we as a city raise that up.” Just days before, in that very spot, peaceful protestors had been shot with rubber bullets, tear gassed, and pepper sprayed for protesting against police violence. Although this clash between protestors and law enforcement had been instigated by President Trump’s call for the National Guard in the city, not by Mayor Bowser’s choice, the decision to paint the D.C. Black Lives Matter mural received heavy criticism for being an unsubstantial response by the mayor to the violence. The official D.C. chapter of Black Lives Matter (BLMDC), for example, tweeted in response to the street mural that “this is a performative distraction from real policy changes. Bowser has consistently been on the wrong side of BLMDC history. This is to appease white liberals while ignoring our demands.” The BLMDC chapter released an official statement the following day criticizing the policies Bowser had supported that put Black lives at greater risk, including a $45 million budget increase for the Metropolitan Police Department only a few weeks prior and a proposal to defund the NEAR Act’s community violence intervention measures. The NEAR Act establishes offices for neighborhood safety and violence prevention throughout the D.C. area, shifting the criminal justice model to one of community care rather than intense policing.
Although the D.C. mural presents itself as a symbol of the city’s inhabitants taking a stand against racism and injustice, it is an empty gesture. The material wellbeing of D.C.’s Black residents did not improve in any way from the creation of politician-sponsored street art and the renaming of a plaza. Of course, the mural serves as a source of hope for locals. Activists and community organizations have transformed the plaza into a place for connection and healing. Yoga takes place in the plaza every night. But there is still little evidence that D.C.’s symbolic support of Black lives will translate into concrete policy. Brandi Summers, a professor of Geography who has researched demographic and political shifts in D.C., stated that the mural uses aesthetic representations of Black resistance to align the city with a set of values that officials have not necessarily supported. Mayor Bowser has co-opted the language of struggle while simultaneously depoliticizing Black activism. The mural did more for Mayor Bowser’s public image than it did for actually “raising up” Black lives. Washington, D.C. was the first city to officially commission a BLM mural, but similar stories have emerged in cities that followed suit.
When examining these murals, the context of the laborers creating art for social justice purposes must also be examined. Ironically, the rush to commission Black Lives Matter street art did little to aid Black artists; in fact, many Black artists have come out of this historical moment feeling used or exploited. At the same time of the D.C. mural’s unveiling, just a couple hundred miles away, artist Shantell Martin received an email from M:United, an ad agency owned by the advertising company McCann. The email, sent to Martin because of her status as a Black artist in the New York City community, asked if she could complete a mural in support of BLM on Microsoft’s boarded-up Manhattan storefront. The email stated that Microsoft and the ad agency were “hoping to complete the mural while the protests are still relevant and the boards are still up,” giving Martin four days to complete the project. The email implies that the Black Lives Matter movement would only be relevant for a week. The email gave no acknowledgement of the trauma that, as a Black person living through this cultural moment, Ms. Marten may have been experiencing, or any indication of the long-term vision either Microsoft or McCann had for supporting Black lives.
Several other artists received the same email, as well as project proposals from other similarly powerful organizations. In response, the artists published an open letter. The letter notes that while the desire to express solidarity with BLM and to support Black artists is commendable, forms of performative activism (such as the mural that Microsoft hoped to commission) are part of the system that perpetuates white supremacy. Even when trying to show that they support Black lives to the outside world, the corporations and institutions involved have, through their actions, ignored the humanity of Black people. Just as with local politicians promoting murals over policymaking, the rush by corporations to capitalize on the social justice movement’s mainstream relevance is evidence of the prioritization of PR points over sustainable systemic change.
The playwright August Wilson once wrote, “all art is political in the sense that it serves someone’s politics.” The same holds true here. The spotlight on the Black Lives Matter movement following the deaths of George Floyd, Brianna Taylor, and others sparked an urge for people in power to show their followers and customers that they are in the loop on social issues—that they have an opinion, and that it’s one that consumers or voters will favor. In other words, demonstrating that these entities are ‘woke’. When commissioned by politicians and corporations Black Lives Matter murals and street art largely serve the commissioners’ own interests. This form of art is a source of “woke capital,” or apparent social awareness as a means to long-term economic gain. Those commissioning the art do little to actually change the system of oppression. Many corporations have avoided making meaningful change to their business practices, and many political leaders have supported policies that would give more power to the police. But in showing others that they claim to oppose oppression, they can be seen as a favorable brand/leader and can profit. The street art phenomenon continues the long trend of corporations commodifying social justice; one can look at Pride branding or feminist beauty-product-advertising for other examples. The art discussed here, in the end, is just another outlet for white supremacy and neoliberalism.
But not all art serves the same people’s politics. Plenty of Black Lives Matter murals truly are uplifting and empowering — when they are made by people on the ground. Some pieces act as memorials to those killed by police violence, some are calls for abolition, and some are an expression of the emotional turmoil produced by this chaotic year. This art comes from a place of emotion and empathy and authenticity, rather than a need for publicity.
The dual nature of BLM murals should be a cautionary lesson in examining public art. Art is not just something to look at — it is made by someone and for someone. Social dynamics are at play. Engagement with art is and has always been political.
