Art, by its very nature, is reciprocal. It’s an energetic conversation between the artist, the viewer, and the presenter—each contributing to its impact. Art is universal.
And, in many respects, multilingual— . It’s why you can stand before a 500-year-old painting or hear a musical arrangement composed by an artist from a completely different environment and era and still feel profoundly connected. Art is transcendent.
Its marvel lies not in a singular perspective but in its ability to be perceived through the lens of personal experience. The beauty is in its myriad interpretations. That we can experience art in our own language, regardless of origin, period, or the creator’s context, is nothing short of miraculous—a miracle at Pentecost, if you will.
The power of art finds resonance in the hands of those who wield it as a tool for activism. Artists like and expressed the collective rage and optimism of a people, have shaped our understanding of historical moments. conveyed the profound hope and oppression of the Black American experience, while with striking clarity through his photography.
Whether it’s the duty of Black artists to lend voice to the struggle is often debated, but modern storytellers like embrace this accountability. “I would envy me if I wasn’t Black,” he told ESSENCE. “What a terribly uneventful and bland experience it must be to not feel responsible to a people with such a rich history of struggle—not just suffering, but struggle in.