{"id":149950,"date":"2021-01-06T11:00:15","date_gmt":"2021-01-06T16:00:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=149950"},"modified":"2021-01-06T12:17:35","modified_gmt":"2021-01-06T17:17:35","slug":"inside-the-order-is-always-something-wild","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2021\/01\/06\/inside-the-order-is-always-something-wild\/","title":{"rendered":"Inside the Order Is Always Something Wild"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Tie the Temptress to the Trojan<\/em>, 2018. Collection of Michael Bertrand, Toronto. \u00a9 Courtesy of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye.<\/p><\/div>\n

We stand before each other and look. Who are you? What do we see in each other? Perhaps our eyes meet this first time. Perhaps we tilt to the side, resist directness. We make a first assessment. Then we keep looking, and more is revealed in every glance, tilt, moment, and we come deeper into knowing.<\/p>\n

Each Lynette Yiadom-Boakye painting is like looking into a story or an entire life. They call to mind vignette collections such as Sherwood Anderson\u2019s Winesburg, Ohio<\/em> (1919), Jean Toomer\u2019s Cane <\/em>(1923), and Philip Larkin\u2019s The Whitsun Weddings <\/em>(1964), wherein poems like \u201cMr Bleaney\u201d imagine all that is behind the faces of the sometimes lonely people we see in our day to day, if we pause to look and consider. There are entire lives inside one frame, one poem, entire souls and stories inside the singletons and groups in these paintings. <\/p>\n

The poem that most richly reminds me of the human worlds Yiadom-Boakye creates is Gwendolyn Brooks\u2019s \u201cThe Bean Eaters\u201d of 1960:<\/p>\n

They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.
\nDinner is a casual affair.
\nPlain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,
\nTin flatware.<\/p>\n

Two who are Mostly Good.
\nTwo who have lived their day,
\nBut keep on putting on their clothes
\nAnd putting things away.<\/p>\n

And remembering \u2026
\nRemembering, with twinklings and twinges,
\nAs they lean over the beans in their rented back room
\nthat is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths,
\ntobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Brooks paints a first portrait of \u201cthis old yellow pair,\u201d and we observe them in their intimate space. As in Yiadom-Boakye\u2019s work, we have been invited into the middle of an intimacy, an interior moment. In the last stanza, propelled by the phrase \u201cAnd remembering\u201d\u2014pressed forward by the ellipses\u2014Brooks takes us to a blossoming interior world \u201cfull of beans and receipts and dolls and cloths, \/ tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.\u201d Specific, minute, infinite details live behind the tableaux. So, too, in these paintings, where complex selves full of memories, stories, places, intimacies, and intricacies seem to live inside the depth of the frames.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Condor and the Mole<\/em>, 2011. Arts Council Collection, Southbank Centre, London. \u00a9 Courtesy of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Yiadom-Boakye\u2019s evocative titles\u2014her poet\u2019s hand\u2014set us off course into the elliptical of complicated lives. For a portrait we might expect a single name, answering who it is or what is the archetype. Instead, the painting that could be described as \u201cYoung Man in Blue\u201d is named the enigmatic Fiscal Playsuit<\/em>. A painting that might simply be named \u201cFuneral\u201d is, more richly, Diplomacy II<\/em>, for of course funerals and death rituals are the ultimate site of cultural conflict. The painting makes that visible. \u201cThree Figures at the Beach\u201d? Hard Wet Epic<\/em>. \u201cWoman with Red Background\u201d? Geranium Love Sonnet<\/em>. \u201cMan in Red Robe\u201d? Ah, Any Number of Preoccupations<\/em>. And what might we imagine when we look at a painting that is called, not \u201cMan in Pink Tie with Three Men\u201d but rather, An Education<\/em>? Who is learning; who is teaching; who is learning what? The exercise is exhilarating, finding all that her titles evoke beneath the paintings, the not-visible and unspoken inside the depths.<\/p>\n

Yiadom-Boakye is herself a poet and says she paints what she cannot write and writes what she cannot paint. I feel the limitations of words daily, and the limitation of the shapes that writing seems sometimes to offer. I wish I had more expressive latitude and invention when I face the page and experience what Audre Lorde describes: \u201cSome words\u2009\/\u2009bedevil me.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, To Improvise a Mountain<\/em>, 2018. Private collection. \u00a9 Courtesy of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye. Photo: Marcus Leith.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

But wrestling to make even an imperfect poem gets the poet closer to the self and thus to others, through the darkness. Yiadom-Boakye\u2019s paintings reveal how the oblique angles of the self and meaning touch where human exchange is imminent. This poem of mine stands to face these paintings, at an angle. It begins as a portrait (after Yiadom-Boakye) of my late grandmother, and then imagines her in a place she never was: a poetry workshop.<\/p>\n

Wenonah Bond Logan at the Poetry Workshop<\/em><\/p>\n

Her verse is unsentimental and formal.
\nHer poem is perfectly typed on bond.
\nAt the bottom she\u2019s signed her name in curly script.
\nShe waits her turn, accepts constructive criticism.
\nHer lines are well-turned, but what is imagined
\nis somewhere deep in the mangrove roots
\nthat float in the brackish water beneath
\nher stanzas, oscillate, shimmy.<\/p>\n

There is no first-person in her poems,
\nno evidence who the words came from.
\nThe words are Latinate. There is order.
\nThere is beauty. Not wild beauty but beauty
\nlike a well-made bed, a cup of coffee
\ncreamed to the same shade as her skin, a tea
\nsandwich with the crusts cut off, a cardigan
\nfolded neatly with tissue paper. Yes,<\/p>\n

these things are beautiful. The other part lives
\nneither in poems nor in her ablutions.
\nIt wishes to wear shantung. It does not
\nwear a girdle, nor own hair rollers nor
\nrain bonnet, nor furniture on casters,
\ndoes not keep records on index cards.
\nEven when invisible it is there.
\nInside the order is always something wild.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Is what the poem or the painting gives us the surface fantasy or fact? Known or imagined? Does it matter as long as the work of art takes us to somewhere human and true?<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

With any writer or painter of the African diaspora, I think the ocean is somewhere in their work, even if it is not a subject. The ocean is the bottom, the urtext, ground zero, the things that we crossed with something to carry, the void across which we have made something new despite the odds. It is the darkness wherein we perished, the nightmare from which we have not yet awakened. If a subject or not, the ocean, the middle passage, that blackness, is always there, I feel. These paintings (I wrote \u201cthese poems\u201d at first!) are not history-minded, so they are not of the ocean in that regard. They are of the ocean in her deep understanding of darkness, danger, mystery, and color.<\/p>\n

When I think about the ocean and its traces in Yiadom-Boakye\u2019s work, it is in her understanding of color. The ocean, in its depths, is so, so dark. Her atmospheres are ocean dark. She is an oceanic painter. The impenetrable dark, the depths, all that water holds is mirrored in all her paint holds. The paradoxically full darkness of her paintings makes you look harder to see if you are missing something. What is hiding within the saturated depths?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, A Passion Like No Other<\/em>, 2012. Collection Lonti Ebers. \u00a9 Courtesy of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then, like waves that lift us and reveal color, so, too, flashes of color in the skirts of these paintings show themselves, and this is extraordinary. So the impassable is in fact revelatory. There is something beneath. It is light, color, surprise. Revelation. Color, flashes of color, are not necessarily more telling or informational than the dark in her paintings.<\/p>\n

And I think of the deep understanding of human exchange, as well as all we never understand about each other. No matter how deep our intimacy, we are still vastly unknowable to each other. I have wished, with loved ones, to be inside of them, to know all that they think, to possess their memories, to see through their eyes. I have wished to step into their pelts and walk as they do. I have wished sometimes to grab them with my teeth by the scruffs of their necks\u2014children, lovers, the best of friends\u2014and carry them to the cave of mutual understanding. Intimacy is that animal and intense. The fascination as well as the vexation of intimacy is that we can never, truly, know each other completely.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Citrine by the Ounce<\/em>, 2014. Private collection. \u00a9 Courtesy of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Yet the light that insists its way through darkness is our human bond. Lucille Clifton: \u201cthe light insists on itself in the world.\u201d It is miraculous, given all that shrouds us, that we come close together as often as we do. Lynette Yiadom-Boakye\u2019s paintings believe in and make available that indelible truth. We may sometimes struggle to see each other, to come near each other. We may stand in close proximity and look directly at each other, as her paintings invite, but it takes several passes, several exchanges, the passage of time, to actually see and know each other more deeply.<\/p>\n

These paintings make you want to stand in front of them again and again and return to the souls residing within. The bottomlessness of these paintings is like the bottomlessness of intimacy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, 8am Cadiz<\/em>, 2017. Baltimore Museum of Art; purchase with the exchange funds from the Pearlstone Family Fund and partial gift of The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. \u00a9 Courtesy of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Elizabeth Alexander is a poet, educator, memoirist, and cultural advocate who has served as president of the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation since 2018 and is a two-time finalist for the Pulitzer Prize.<\/em><\/p>\n

Excerpted from\u00a0<\/em>Lynette Yiadom-Boakye: Fly in League with the Night<\/a>\u00a0(eds. Isabella Maidment & Andrea Schlieker, Tate\/D.A.P., 2020). \u201cInside the Order Is Always Something Wild,\u201d \u00a9 Elizabeth Alexander 2020. \u201cThe Bean Eaters,\u201d by Gwendolyn Brooks, which is quoted in the excerpt, is reprinted by consent of Brooks Permissions.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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