My poem, “Marshall’s Studio,” reflects my interaction with Kerry James Marshall’s piece, Untitled (Studio) (2014), as the viewer who inserts him or herself in the work of art, in a spatial way that the speaker feels is unique to painting. This painting demands attention in the gallery space. The red is what initially attracts the viewer’s gaze, but the way the painting unfolds in action is what holds that gaze. Marshall puts Black bodies in motion and in portraiture, living their lives as fully formed, autonomous beings—not only as "Black artists" but as "culture creators" who have contributed to and influenced African American/American culture.
"Marshall's Studio" by Bakar Wilson
The red open-hand slaps me
across the face, first,
demanding my attention.
I concur then notice the
Black bodies occupying this
portal in tune with their surroundings.
Black skin glistening like dark
garnet in the sun.
Putting myself inside, I yearn
to experience what it means to paint.
I write. Language matters, builds
ideas, images, narratives, word
by word. It builds scenes, but not
like this. Words can describe the red,
pontificate about the red,
but not like this, not like the broad
strokes on vinyl panels with acrylics,
not like creating dimensions
on a flat surface using geometry.
My countenance intricate as the detail
of flower petals against a dotted robe,
my rattled mind looks for foundation,
for things that make sense.
I am seeing my reflection on
a museum wall. I am the nude, right
arm akimbo, waiting to be immortalized.
I am the woman prepping the next model.
I am the artist, eyes closed,
envisioning my next masterpiece.
