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Six Artists Advancing Justice, Healing, and Envisioning a Stronger Future

Five years after the murder of George Floyd, artists and culture bearers in Minnesota, continue to be essential in helping dream of and build a more just, creative, and abundant future. Murals, stencils, songs and other art born out of tragedy in 2020, helped communities across the Twin Cities and the nation navigate complexity, demand justice, and begin to heal.

“In Minnesota and beyond, artists are not just responding to the moment, they are shaping it. From big cities to small towns, from gallery walls to kitchen tables, they are challenging injustice, tending to community wounds, building connection, and leading.”—DEANNA CUMMINGS, ARTS & CULTURE PROGRAM DIRECTOR

Minnesota is home to over 30,000 artists and more than 1,600 arts organizations. From rural towns to big cities, artists and culture bearers help revitalize main streets, create space for healing, and open new doors in our hearts and minds that build greater understanding between us. On the five year anniversary of George Floyd’s death, our nation is in another period marked by uncertainty.  To help us make sense of this current moment, we asked six luminary artists and culture bearers to reflect on two questions:

  • How can art/artists/culture bearers contribute to social change and community healing?
  • What inspires or motivates you in these challenging times?

Here is what they told us.

Marcie Rendon

Author, playwright, poet, community arts activist

“Art is healing. Art has the capacity to heal, nurture, inspire. By writing our stories, singing our songs, painting our visions we keep hope alive – our own and others. When someone is creating beauty they cannot be about destroying. We need more creators in this time. More visionaries. More people who share beauty and hope.”

How can art/artists/culture bearers contribute to social change and community healing?

Art is healing. Art has the capacity to heal, nurture, inspire. By writing our stories, singing our songs, painting our visions we keep hope alive – our own and others. When someone is creating beauty they cannot be about destroying. We need more creators in this time. More visionaries. More people who share beauty and hope. And I’m not just talking about pretty pictures or glowing words of peace and love. Although those are nice, we need more people who will inspire compassion, generosity, and interdependence. Social change and community healing requires visionary artists and culture bearers who speak truth. Who lead with love. Culture bearers, in particular, know that there is enough for everyone. We don’t live in a ‘scarcity’ world. We live in a world that promotes fear about lack of resource. Our elders assure us that treated gently, the earth gives all of us all of what we need. Artists, in particular, document reality. They don’t shy away from the truth, rather they find ways to give truth to others in ways that others can see, feel, appreciate, and be inspired by. Art heals. Healers create art.

What inspires or motivates you in these challenging times?

In this time I am inspired by other people’s bravery and courage. I find hope in humor and generosity of spirit. My children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, who survive, who struggle, who persevere and laugh, in spite of generational policies of genocide that say that none of us are supposed to be here. Every single day they give me hope.  Other specific people who inspire me are people like Bao Phi whose every poem speaks to truth and love of family, community, and righteous rage at injustice. Sharon Day, Ojibwe Mide water walker, also inspires me with her dedication to not just the well-being of Native community but to all people who require water to survive. Her quiet, humble dedication to purposefully setting things right models for all who care to observe, that getting up and putting one step in front of the other can put things right in the world when done with good intention. My friend Mark, Ojibwe drum keeper, who became blind, but continues to sing Ojibwe songs with and for future generations. My artist friends who know how to be boldly, loudly flamboyant in the face of all the oppression. There is so much beauty in the world, so much, if only we can care and dare to look for it.

Years ago I wrote: I laugh at their attempts to kill us off every time I see a wild rose bush growing out of concrete along I94.

Bethany Lacktorin

Performance artist, organizer, media producer, musician

“Sharing our stories and sharing art experiences provides safe boundaries for learning about each other and making discoveries together. It’s where human connection has a chance to thrive long enough for healing to begin. Even if it’s just one person at a time, in a small town the impact is deep if not wide.”

How can art/artists/culture bearers contribute to social change and community healing?

Being a person of color living in rural MN can come packaged with extra weight. Maybe it’s a lightweight, bridge builder role. Or maybe sometimes it’s a more heavyweight instigator of social change “role”. In the midst of accommodating those roles tokenization is still real. Whether it’s the tokenization of the artist or the identity being featured, I’ve come to accept it as a kind of a polite expression of curiosity. In this setting, artist processes have inadvertently become a way to frame and contain curiosity. Sharing our stories and sharing art experiences provides safe boundaries for learning about each other and making discoveries together. It’s where human connection has a chance to thrive long enough for healing to begin. Even if it’s just one person at a time, in a small town the impact is deep if not wide.

Little Theatre Auditorium – Open Mic Night June 2024 (curated/produced by Bethany from 2019-present)

What inspires or motivates you in these challenging times?

Art has long been realized as a tool for inspiring social change. Social change starts with connection. Nothing motivates and encourages me more than seeing relationships begin and grow at a performance or a show or workshop. It’s incredible to see how quickly strangers become friends when they have a chance to build something together.

Seitu Jones

Multidisciplinary artist, advocate and maker

The great artist and activist, Harry Belafonte, described himself not as an artist turned activist, but as an activist turned artist who started using song to point the way forward. Harry Belafonte said that ‘artists are the gatekeepers of truth.’ Our mission is to inscribe history. Artists are the carriers of history. Artists created the paintings on cave walls, inscribed the words of the Koran, the Bible, and Torah. We were the ones that created the songs that helped lift us all up. I’ve always felt that artists can help frame a new world.

Five years have passed since the murder of George Floyd and the “racial reckoning” that happened afterward. It was the “wake-up call” for the nation and the world that made us all sit up. But it wasn’t the first time for many of us…

I still remember standing in front of the TV with my father and watching Walter Cronkite tell us about the death of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The next day, our small Black student group at Washburn High School in south Minneapolis walked out of school to head to a local church for a prayer service.

After much debate between my mother and father about whether or not we should make our annual spring trip to visit our Chicago relatives, we left that evening for our trip over the Easter holiday to visit my mother’s family in Chicago, and were witnesses to outpourings of grief and anger that resulted in one of the largest public disturbances in the US after Dr. King’s death. Some folks now refer to those disturbances as the Holy Week Uprising. Once again, I’ve become a student of Dr. King, realizing how much his philosophies define my own work as an artist.

Dr. King spread a revolutionary love. Cornell West calls him the Radical King. All too often, the portraits of Dr. King that are painted today don’t include how disruptive he was to the status quo or how threatening his concept of bringing together the civil rights movement, the anti-war movement, the women’s movement, and the environmental movement would be to those in power.

The great artist and activist, Harry Belafonte, described himself not as an artist turned activist, but as an activist turned artist who started using song to point the way forward. Harry Belafonte said that ‘artists are the gatekeepers of truth.’ Our mission is to inscribe history. Artists are the carriers of history. Artists created the paintings on cave walls, inscribed the words of the Koran, the Bible, and Torah. We were the ones that created the songs that helped lift us all up. I’ve always felt that artists can help frame a new world.

This is the foundation of my work as an artist. Arleta Little, the poet and director of the Loft, while she was a program officer for the McKnight Foundation, wrote, “Artists and arts organizations are not struggling because we are incapable. We are struggling because resources and opportunities are structurally and systematically denied to us.” It is not our fault that our voices are not louder.

A few days after the murder of George Floyd, I thought, “What can I do to show my love for humankind and my pain for the loss of another Black man?” My answer was to make art and to create a portrait of George Floyd that would be available to the world to remember him and to point us all toward justice.

Five years ago, that wake-up call was answered, and commitments that were made are now being broken. As artists, if we don’t resist and continue to challenge injustice, that wake-up call will go unanswered.

David Mura

Memoirist, essayist, novelist, poet, critic, playwright and performance artist

“What artists do is tell and show and narrate truth to power; our task is to penetrate beyond the screen of cliches and lies and gaslighting that power creates to consolidate its power. As I tell my writing students, we writers drag things out of the closet or from under the table and bring forth unpleasant truths those in power want to deny—whether in a family, a community or a nation. We artists complicate the portraits of reality we are given. And we are not just looking for the obvious always, but instead we are searching for a language, an art to express what we know unconsciously but don’t yet have the language, the art to express.”

“Reality, however one interprets it, lies beyond a screen of cliches.  Every culture produces such a screen, partly to facility its own practices (to establish habits) and partly to consolidate its own power.  Reality is inimical to those with power.” —John Berger, And our hearts, our faces, brief as photos

What artists do is tell and show and narrate truth to power; our task is to penetrate beyond the screen of cliches and lies and gaslighting that power creates to consolidate its power. As I tell my writing students, we writers drag things out of the closet or from under the table and bring forth unpleasant truths those in power want to deny—whether in a family, a community or a nation. We artists complicate the portraits of reality we are given. And we are not just looking for the obvious always, but instead we are searching for a language, an art to express what we know unconsciously but don’t yet have the language, the art to express.

So many of us are told our stories, our voices, don’t matter, but when we see others from our community expressing their truths, narrating their lives, giving voice to what they see and think and feel, we feel empowered to do the same. Art gives us that freedom, and artist tells others to avail of themselves that freedom.

Of course that is more easily said than done. Clearly we live in difficult troubling times. In my last book, The Stories Whiteness Tells Itself: Racial Myths and Our American Narratives, I examine the lies, myths, distortions and omissions in many of the narratives white Americans tell about our history and our present and I offer in contrast the narratives—both of history and of fiction—that African Americans tell of their lives and experiences.

One of the key points of the book is that after every progress this country has seemingly made towards racial equality, often in the form of laws, such as the Thirteenth, Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments, there has always been a racial backlash where a significant, if not majority of whites, push back against that progress and try to undermine it. Their goal was to return the country to the previous state of racial inequality. In this backlash, they worked to circumvent and render powerless or negligible any legal or political progress towards equality.

We are now in the midst of such a backlash. And so we must remember that others before us have struggled against these retrenchments, these reversals, and they too had to fight on, fight on even as their hopes and elation at some seeming progress were dashed. Their endurance, their persistence, is what has enabled whatever progress, whatever rights we now exercise, and so we must remember we are fighting for the future, as the past has fought for us, for the opportunities that we have that the past did not.

Recently I saw the History Theater play, Secret Warriors, by Rick Shiomi, which tells the story of the Military Intelligence Service Japanese Americans who studied the Japanese language at Fort Snelling; these soldiers went out in World War II to serve as battlefield guides, interrogators of prisoners and translators of captured or intercepted Japanese messages and documents. MacArthur’s Chief of Intelligence, General Willoughby said these MIS Nisei soldiers shortened the war in the Pacific by two years and saved a million American lives—which means there are anti-Asian, anti-immigrant Americans alive today because these Nisei soldiers helped save their fathers and grandfathers.

David mit seinem Enkel Tadashi und seiner Tochter Samantha.

And yet many of these Nisei and their families, including my uncles who served in the MIS, were incarcerated by the government in camps where they were surrounded by barbed wire fences and rifle towers with guards. They were not given the right of a trial or the writ of habeas corpus. They struggled against far greater racial prejudice than I have ever experienced. So I owe it to them and their memory to continue fighting for the rights of all Americans.

But it’s not just the past which inspires. In 2022 my daughter became the first Japanese American legislator in Minnesota when she was elected to the House of Representatives from her South Minneapolis District. She sponsored an ethnic studies bill by saying, “My father was not able to study the internment camps in school and I was not able to study the camps in school. I want my son Tadashi to be able to study his Japanese American heritage in school”.

Despite the current attempts to quash any true discussion of our country’s racial past, this ethnic studies bill is still in place in Minnesota. It is the product of four generations of struggle by the Japanese American community. So I owe it to my grandparents, my parents, my children and my grandchild, and to those who are fighting against injustice in all our communities, to continue that fight.

Tish Jones

Poet, cultural producer and educator

“To be seen and heard is to begin a healing process, therefore our work as creatives is and has always been rooted in a healing and change inspiring praxis. Art, artists, and culture bearers transmute the people’s feelings, energy, hopes, beliefs, and experiences into timeless and digestible works that represent moments, eras, beliefs, and truth.”

How can art/artists/culture bearers contribute to social change and community healing?

To be seen and heard is to begin a healing process, therefore our work as creatives is and has always been rooted in a healing and change inspiring praxis. Art, artists, and culture bearers transmute the people’s feelings, energy, hopes, beliefs, and experiences into timeless and digestible works that represent moments, eras, beliefs, and truth. We create artifact and document history. We keep culture. We provide counter-narratives and sculpt realities. Each of those things serve as a catalyst for positive social impact and that is our work.

What inspires or motivates you in these challenging times?

Black people and babies. The resilience found in the mere existence and survival/growth exhibited by both people groups as they face a world that is in no way constructed with their safety or survival or ability/potential to thrive in mind, is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, remarkable.

Shanai Matteson

Writer, visual artist, cultural organizer

“One of the things I love about artists and culture bearers is the way we imagine and create whole new worlds through the art spaces and projects we facilitate. I’m always thinking about how the relationships that are sparked when we invite others to join us in imagining a different world, or creating a space where that different world is believable, or telling our stories together … How this can encourage us to recognize our creative and collective power, as well as the vital connections we have to our places and one another. We become advocates for justice because we start to see the ways our stories connect, and we become part of something bigger than ourselves.”

How can art/artists/culture bearers contribute to social change and community healing?

One of the things I love about artists and culture bearers is the way we imagine and create whole new worlds through the art spaces and projects we facilitate. I’m always thinking about how the relationships that are sparked when we invite others to join us in imagining a different world, or creating a space where that different world is believable, or telling our stories together … How this can encourage us to recognize our creative and collective power, as well as the vital connections we have to our places and one another. We become advocates for justice because we start to see the ways our stories connect, and we become part of something bigger than ourselves.

That’s probably a roundabout way of saying that artists are often divergent thinkers, and we are empathy encouragers. As a cultural organizer, I find myself bringing that tendency to think creatively – and to dare to try something new – to those efforts already underway to rekindle community connections and relationships and care.

To me, that is priority number one in these times. What tools or skills or bravery have we developed as artists or through the culture and stories we carry, that we can share with our communities? How do we encourage others simply by being who we are, relentlessly?

For me, that’s creating spaces to be together and encouraging recognition and cooperation. Potlucks. Painting parties. Pop-up tours. That’s also creating storytelling projects, including recently, newsprint publications where we can tell our stories. And that’s helping to encourage other artists and culture bearers and organizers to step into their power, or to create the support structures that are needed in their places and communities.

Living in a low-income rural community, there are challenges that we face that are not unique, but that have a lot to do with our unique places and cultures. Many of us have been conditioned to believe about ourselves and our neighbors that we are small – isolated – divided – powerless. Or that others in other places won’t understand us or share anything in common or advocate for us. But we have a lot in common with communities near and far – and we are not alone or powerless. We can become our own advocates and advocates for our neighbors.

A lot of the work that I am doing now is just encouraging others to see themselves as creative contributors to culture and community – writers of their own story – and of the collective story we are living in right now, which is a dangerous and difficult time, but also a time of possibility and revolutionary ideas.

I create artistic spaces and projects with others in my community so that I can demonstrate what that looks and feels like, and encourage others to be brave, to share their truth, to honor the care and culture of the places we share, that sort of thing.

It’s important for me to recognize that I never do this work alone, I work very closely with other artists and members of my community on everything. I am inspired by those leaders who have encouraged me, and I am someone who really believes in the power of the people. I believe in the brilliance of our creative vision when we remember who we are and what we are capable of together.

What inspires or motivates you in these challenging times?

I wake up every day inspired by the people in my community. These are challenging times, really brutal and heartbreaking times, but in many quiet ways, I see people rising to meet the challenge, taking care of one another, and preparing for an uncertain future.

I’m also inspired by my creative collaborators – the people who not only say yes when we come up with a wild idea – but the ones who say, “Hell, I’ll join you!”

Annie Humphrey with Fire in the Village, painting beautiful murals for the Ball Club Powwow Grounds (learn more about Fire in the Village’s work in this recent story from KAXE); My co-conspirators with Talon Mine Tours, who lead tours of a sulfide mine that doesn’t exist to share stories of why this place is worth protecting; and my local community with Good Trouble Club.

All of these art projects are really community-building projects, and along with so many other small town artists and organizers, I think we are building a movement of rural folks who will stand up and fight for justice. These are not just art projects, of course – they are also education projects, they are a means of forming mutual aid networks and community defense clubs, and they are a way to shift the narrative and culture on the ground.

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