I finally got a chance to check out the Black Artists in Oregon Exhibit at the Portland Art Museum. It felt refreshing to see myself in a space where that is not usually the case unless I’m traveling away from home. I’m not sure how my children feel about me dragging them to museums while on vacation in other states when they were younger. I guess they appreciated it because they’ve never complained (at least not to my face). Maybe the most meaningful visit I can vividly recall was our trip to Washington D.C. We were on a college tour visiting Howard University and a few other schools for my middle child who was transferring, and his younger sister and her friend who were graduating high school in a couple of years.
I remember our family being in D.C. in 2008 for USTAF and research for a play I was writing. During our break we were determined to visit as many Smithsonian’s as possible before exhausting our energy. As we toured the Mall, we came across a construction site with a sign that read The National Museum of African American Heritage and Culture 2015. My husband and I became so excited making a pact to return once it opened. The “Blacksonian” as it is sometimes referred to, opened in 2016 and a year later while on the college tour we were up bright and early securing our tickets for the long awaited visit. It did not disappoint. So much of what I researched , read, studied for years was alive in that museum. After the tour we sat in the cafe and ate soul food. I’ve been to some great museums but nothing quite like this one. It was surreal. And, my son ended up attending and graduated from Howard University. I am a proud mom of a HU and HBCU graduate.
As I walked into the exhibit at the Portland Art Museum, I was greeted by this mural of Black bliss and although there were pieces that confronted the ills of America, joy was definitely felt in each room. There were a few pieces that really spoke to me where I stood for extended minutes gently gazing with deep intuition. Especially parts of Carrie Mae Weems’ Kitchen Table Series. And, just before leaving I noticed this image of one of the story keepers . It was Keith Goodman who was a phenomenal dancer and a dance teacher at Jefferson High School. His charisma, care for students and the culture was something to behold and I honor him. I am grateful to have been one of his students. I wish my children would’ve been able to experience the type of love and care from a village of educators, parents, and community members I had during high school. So many beautiful emotions overtook me at that moment. I walked out of the building with great pride knowing this was a part of my history, a history I could close my eyes and touch. Thank you Intisar for curating such meaningful art for all to experience.
Full-Time Woman 