Panchromatic

art collective

[panchromaticcollective]

COMING OUT OF THE SHADOWS AT NIU!

Art by Juan Molina Hernandez

[panchromaticcollective]

Professional Practices workshop! Thank you Allen Moore, Ian Welch, and Jeremy Foy for teaming up with us to put this on! (at Northern Illinois University)

[panchromaticcollective]

Snap from Felicia Holman's artist talk today #feliciaholman #panchro #panchromaticcollective #artisttalk (at Jack Arends Hall)

[panchromaticcollective]

Installation day! Hi sheena 👋🏽 #theweightofbeing #panchromaticcollective #panchro (at Northern Illinois University)

[panchromaticcollective]

Upcoming show #theweightofbeing #panchromaticcollective #panchro (at Northern Illinois University)

[whatastretch]

[blackcontemporaryart]

Birth of Derrierykah Badu, 2015.

Shot on location, Trinidad and Tobago*, by photographer Arnaldo James

*Six-print series, jumpstarting an upcoming mythic marathon of narrative photography, depicting performer/student Gabriel Christian (deleon)’s caricature Derrierykah Badu. Badu is an homage to haunty Black Femme and buoyant genderfluidity. All fabric sourced from the living and dead wardrobes of women of color*

[mazatli]

Proceso collab w @stinkfishstink & @killjoypress for the #painteddesertproject @jetsonorama #navajonation #stinkfish #killjoy #mazatl #graficamazatl (at Navajo Nation)

[18mr]

Linda Sarsour is, in every sense of the phrase, a woman in a hurry. Only 35, she has already helped to partly dismantle the New York Police Department’s program of spying on the city’s Muslims and has worked with officials in City Hall to close public schools for the observance of two of Islam’s most important holy days, Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha. From her base at the Arab American Association of New York, the nonprofit group in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, where she is the executive director, Ms. Sarsour has taken on such issues as immigration policy, voter registration, mass incarceration, Islamophobia and the Police Department’s stop-and-frisk tactic. She has emerged in the last few years not only as one of the city’s, and the country’s, most vocal young Muslim-American advocates, but also as a potential — and rare Arab-American — candidate for office.“I feel like I’ve been able to bring a voice to this community they’ve never heard before,” she said not long ago.

The voice she brings to New York’s Muslims, a diverse group of Arabs, Southeast Asians, Africans and African-Americans, is loud, strident and inflected with both street smarts and the tropes of “intersectionality,” as the trending term has it. That means Ms. Sarsour has sought to speak not only for those who share her religion, but also for others — women, gays, prison inmates, victims of racial profiling — facing the problems that concern her.She is deeply involved in the Black Lives Matter movement, having helped to organize an April march from New York to Washington led by a group called Justice League NYC — an offshoot of Mr. Belafonte’s Gathering for Justice — to honor Eric Garner, Akai Gurley and other black men killed by the police. More recently, as part of a project she calls Respond With Love, she has raised more than $100,000 to help rebuild black churches that burned down, some by arson, after the church massacre in Charleston, S.C.

“When you look at the Muslim community and its relationship with the police, it’s very similar to the black community’s relationship,” said Tamika Mallory, a former top aide to the Rev. Al Sharpton who works with Justice League NYC and other groups. “It’s all about finding common ground. It’s like Linda says, ‘I’m gonna help y’all get your people straight and I expect you to come help me get mine straight.’ ”

Not that that has been easy. While Ms. Sarsour likes to talk — with a talent for praising herself without sounding overly self-aggrandizing — about helping to organize events like December’s shutdown of the Barclays Center in Brooklyn after a grand jury did not indict the white officer in the case involving Mr. Garner, she acknowledges that she has encountered resistance from some Arab Muslims who feel that she should save her energy for helping her own kind.

“There are people who disavow her work because they think it’s not enough in the community,” said Zead Ramadan, a former board chairman of the Council on American-Islamic Relations in New York. “The older, more conservative faction will say, ‘Oh, she’s too liberal,’ or, ‘That’s not how a Muslim woman should act.’ But if there’s anyone who clearly represents the religion and who can make it into a political seat in New York, it’s Linda.”

Besides, Mr. Ramadan added, “You are rarely going to meet someone who is so Brooklyn.”

[rupikaur-deactivated20170926]

for similar pieces preorder your copy of m&h at: rupikaur.com/milkandhoney

[shadezine-blog]

INTER CONNECTIONS INTER CONNECTIONS INTER CONNECTIONS

“In moments like these, words are seemingly meaningless ”

Ceraphina narrates what we all might want and day dream about. Her colorful narratives will make you feel as if you found your summer love. 

Follow her on tumblr fictionalphina // IG @me.you.us_

Please do not delete this caption.

SHADE MAGAZINE, 2015

[hyperallergic]

On Sunday, artists participating in and attending the 2015 Venice Biennale launched a campaign titled “Artists’ Letter for Palestine.” More than 20 prominent artists, academics, and activists have signed the letter (included in full below), including Mel Chin, Miriam Ghani, Andrew Ross, Gregory Sholette, Noah Fischer, Naeem Mohaiemen, Ashok Sukurmara, Nitasha Dhillon, Philip Rizk, Jasmina Metwaly, and Amin Husain. The letter calls on artists to use their “leverage to bring global attention to injustice,” invites others to add their names to the list, and cites PACBI’s (Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel) call for a boycott of Israeli institutions. The group sees its call in the lineage of previous art world activist groups including the “Guerrilla Girls, the Art Workers Coalition, and so many others who have refused to cooperate in the face of institutional racism, sexism, and labor exploitation.”

Artists Launch “Letter for Palestine” Campaign at Venice Biennale

[darksilenceinsuburbia]

Claudia La Perna: É Só Fado

[mazatli]

Pegando este grabado en el Caracol Autónomo Zapatista de Morelia // Paste up at the Zapatista Autonomous Community of Morelia #callejerorural #pasteup #woodcut #printmaking #zapatista #mazatl #graficamazatl 📷: @killjoypress (at Estado de Chiapas)

[superselected]

Beverly Johnson Joins 34 Other Cosby Accusers for a Powerful Cover of New York Magazine.

[khofnak-deactivated20160409]

I was born behind barbed wire 70 years ago in the Tule Lake Segregation Center, a maximum-security prison camp for Japanese-Americans in Northern California. My parents’ only crime was having the face of the enemy. They were never charged or convicted of a crime; yet they were forced to raise me in a prison camp when President Franklin Roosevelt signed a wartime executive order ultimately authorizing the incarceration of 120,000 people of Japanese descent. We were deemed a danger to the “national security” and incarcerated without due process of law.

I Know an American ‘Internment’ Camp When I See One -   Satsuki Ina

Last summer, the Obama administration announced its plans to open new immigrant family detention centers in response to the wave of women and children fleeing violence in Central and South America and seeking asylum in the United States. The ACLU and other advocacy groups quickly opposed the White House’s policy because of the harm it would inflict on already traumatized women and children. This month, The New York Times editorial board described family detention simply as “immoral,” and the U.N. Human Rights Council called upon the U.S. to “halt the detention of immigrant families and children.” In the following piece, psychotherapist Satsuki Ina, who was born in a Japanese-American prison camp during World War II, recounts her visits to two so-called family detention facilities in Texas and the psychological toll detention takes on the women and children imprisoned there.

 — Matthew Harwood

(via jalaana)

[humansofnewyork]

“My older brother died of AIDS in 1990. He lived with me during his last four years and I took care of him. It was hard for him because he was so proud. He wouldn’t let me wheel him outside because he didn’t want people to see him. He didn’t want to let me feed him. If he fell down, he wouldn’t call for me. He was like that even when we were kids. One time when he was ten years old, he fell on the street and cut his arm open on a piece of glass. He had to go to the hospital to get stitches, and I cried about it more than he did. But toward the end of his life, late at night, I’d hear him crying in the bathroom. The first time it happened I knocked on the door. But he wiped his eyes and acted like nothing was wrong. So after that I didn’t knock any more.”

[lesstalkmoreillustration]

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