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Big IdeaEvery moment that I spend with another person is a collaboration. I'm really surrendering my own ego to invite others to become a part of me.Hank Willis Thomas
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity. You can listen to Hank Willis Thomas' answers using the audio player at the end of each question.
We’re thrilled to host an installation of “The Embrace” during the Festival this year. Speaking about this piece, you’ve reflected, “ultimately this work – really all artwork, but especially this work – has become somewhat of a Rorschach test. You know, where’s your head? And where’s your heart? What do you see? What does that say about society? And what does it say about the way you see the world and yourself?” How does art help you make sense of the world? Are there specific pieces you return to as your personal Rorschach test?
The Embrace has been an incredible marker in my career. It was not only the largest sculpture I've ever made, it also happens to be the largest bronze sculpture in the country at this point, and it's placed in the oldest continuously used public space in the country. It pays homage to descendants of slaves who have become national heroes, who, through their love for one another, manifested love and compassion for the world that we still feel as it radiates.
Every monument will be open to interpretation. What I love about The Embrace is that there are several different perspectives, the most important one being what happens when the viewer goes inside of it. I think how you see anything is also how you see everything, and so there is this way in which how we navigate the world or how we choose to view the world actually impacts our ability to see — and frankly not see — certain things.
The greatest work for me to come back to all the time are the works that start with the words “I am,” inspired by the 1968 Memphis sanitation workers march, which happens to be the same march where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. In that series, the last paintings says, “I am. Amen.” And that revelation — that the greatest gift any of us are given is our consciousness — has been a really powerful reminder for me about who I am. How I relate to the words “I am” is a Rorschach test because whatever follows that actually becomes my own reality.
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Your mother, Deborah Willis, is a prolific photographer and historian celebrated for her contributions to the history of Black photography. Reflecting on her influence, you’ve said, “I think the fundamental thing that I learned from my mother is that history is waiting to be told.” What do you mean by this? How did your mother instill this lesson in you, and how does it materialize in your work?
When my mother was a student studying photography and asked questions of her professors about the history of photography and the history of Black people who were making images, her professors couldn't really name many beyond Gordon Parks, or Roy DeCarava, or James Van Der Zee. She knew there had to be more to the story, and went about researching for decades and discovered that there were not only a few, but several Black photographers from the very beginning of photography, and that those Black photographers were making images that were very much in contrast to the images that mainstream society made.
That history that we didn't talk about or were not even aware of, that prior to the Emancipation Proclamation, two decades before slavery ended, there were Black people in the United States making photographs, and that their photographs would tell a different story about the Black experience, then and even now. And so it's recognizing that any field is really about framing. And once we are able to frame a context for research, we're actually also able to create history. And so I learned it just watching my mother do what she loves the most, which is learn and tell stories of what she's learned.
Collaboration is a significant aspect of your practice — working with other artists, activists, and communities. What does that process look like for you, and how does it enrich your work? Once something is out in the world, what do you think the audience’s role is in co-creating meaning?
Every moment that I spend with another person is a collaboration. And most often I'm not conscious of that. But when I really think about it, when I'm aware of any moment that I'm experiencing, I recognize that there is a capacity for creativity, for enlightenment and evolution. Making objects or making a film or making a picture all are ways in which I create; however, I rarely, if ever, do that alone.
The difference in my collaborations is that I'm really surrendering my own ego to invite others to become a part of me. And when we're working together, we get to struggle and love and share and admire and disagree with each other the same way that I do with myself internally. And the major difference is that what comes out of it is much harder to put a finger on, because there is no distinct fingerprint of various people sharing energy, merging their energy to manifest something. Those projects I see as generosity projects because they often also invite the viewer to complete the work.
You founded the artist-led organization For Freedoms in 2016, and have since collaborated on nearly 800 activations with 1,000 artists, bringing together art and civic engagement. You’ve posed the question, “Have you ever thought about laws as conceptual art?” This is a very provocative question. What do you mean by that?
If we've learned anything from the past eight years, or really the past 15, 16 years of American politics is that theater plays a critical role. We've always known that politicians are performing, but we don't often think about the fact that even after they're elected, they actually are creators. The people who create laws are actually designers. They design our society, they design our reality, but they don't actually see themselves as creatives.
And oftentimes people who do see themselves as creatives don't see themselves as having a role or responsibility in civic life. And so with For Freedoms we thought that we'd pose the question, what is the role of art in civic life? And how can we encourage artists beyond protests and propaganda to insinuate critical discourse and critical questions into the landscape? And so we've done that time and time and time again, and it's always enlightening to see what artists bring to the table.