Art Market

Not for Sale: How Black and Indigenous artists are rewriting the rules of the art market

This essay questions the structural dynamics of the inclusion of Black and Indigenous artists into the Western art market, and explores how artists are intervening not just in content but in the very form, temporality, and ownership models of their work.

Born in San Juan Comalapa, a town of 40,000 people in Guatemala, Edgar Calel is a Mayan Kaqchikel visual artist who comments on the world through an indigenous cosmovision. “In Indigenous Kaqchikel thought, there’s almost nothing that is done alone,” said the artist. “All the things we do are done collectively, and that collectivity is what serves as the basis for discovering.” Calel often works with his immediate community in Comalapa, playing a significant role in his artmaking.

For this reason, his work The Echo of an Ancient Form of Knowledge (Ru k’ ox k’ob’el jun ojer etemab’el) (2021), which is made up of a ritual and an installation featuring fruits and vegetables sitting on stones laid on the floor, was never intended to be sold. And the work cannot be considered finished until the ritual is performed by members of the Kaqchikel in private. Yet after Catherine Wood, a curator at the Tate Modern in London and the Tate Fund team asked about it, the artist and his gallerist Stefan Benchoam agreed to “loan” the work based on Mayan thinking and custom in the form of a “custodianship”. So, the Tate became the first institution to broker such deal during Frieze London in 2021, whereby they purchased the custodianship of the installation for 13 years, paying the artist for the work and making a donation to a Kaqchikel cause of Calel’s choice. After those 13 years, a new agreement and negotiation is supposed to be made with the artist and his community.

The importance of this deal is in how it demonstrates that artists can mitigate the at times predatory and extractivist interests of Western institutions by applying ancestral customs which support their community. Yet this also raises questions of whether certain parts of ancestral cultures should not be negotiated with Western institutions at all. “I am thankful to our ancestors for giving us the license and allowing us to spread their knowledge and wisdom in up to seven different places across the globe,” Calel told Artnet News in 2021, in reference to the seven versions of the work, sorted according to the number of stars in the Big Dipper constellation. Another question that arises is the issue of collectivity and authorship and whether Western institutions with their colonial history can be trusted to protect and respect traditions and cultures that have non-capitalist understandings of material life and that Western institutionalization once extracted and pillaged.

The deep links between colonialism and Western institutions go back centuries and this dynamic has unfortunately shaped all modern Western institutions in more or less visible ways. Cameron Rowland is an artist whose research makes these links more perceptible. At his 2023 solo exhibition Amt 45 i at the Museum für Moderne Kunst (MMK) in Frankfurt, Germany, the U.S. American artist presented their investigation of how the city and institution have benefited from slavery. This happened despite Germany not having been a major player in the transatlantic trade of enslaved people, unlike Britain or the Tate galleries, which were started by Henry Tate using his private fortune made from the sugar business.

Through a series of conceptual installations with objects of historical meaning and legal interventions, Rowland revealed the ways in which institutions, including MMK itself, are entangled in historical systems of racialized exploitation. Central to the exhibition was Bankrott (bankruptcy), a legally binding loan through which Rowland’s corporation, Bankrott Inc., lent €20,000 to MMK indefinitely, at an annual interest rate of 18%. According to this agreement, in 20 years the museum will legally owe the artist’s company €1,256,518. While the museum would never have the intention of repaying, and neither does the artist demand it (for now), this loan stands as a perpetual financial obligation that indicates the historical debt that the institution owes to all people affected by the Transatlantic slavery. With this work, in the future the museum will be in theory financially bankrupt, to perhaps match its current moral bankruptcy for benefiting from slavery and making exhibitions about it. These practices in turn generate more cultural capital for the institution, rather than, actually repay this historical debt.

Loaning, rather than selling, is at the core of Rowland’s artistic practice. Their work highlights how ownership itself is part of the structure of racial capitalism and must be questioned and renegotiated as a concept. Their works are only available through loan agreements, typically for a limited period of time. Institutions or collectors can use the work but cannot own it, which undoes the whole notion of art as commodity or investment. This practice of refusing to fully comply with capitalism and institutionalization aligns with Black radical thought which in turn harks back to marronage.

For instance, Cameron Rowland’s New York State Unified Court System (2016) is a conceptual artwork that examines the intersections of incarceration, labor, and institutional complicity within the U.S. justice system. It comprises four oak courtroom benches manufactured by inmates at Green Haven Correctional Facility in New York State to stress how the court reproduces itself materially through the labor of those it sentences. The benches were acquired through Corcraft, the commercial brand of the New York State Department of Corrections and Community Supervision’s Division of Industries, which employs incarcerated individuals. The work cannot be sold but only rented for five years for the total cost of the Corcraft products that constitute it, which is what MoMA in New York did.

Rowland’s practice operates on four levels whereby: loaning replaces selling, rejecting the idea of art as a commodity; their contracts as artworks expose structural injustices; their use of legal systems mirrors how law perpetuates inequality; and financial debt as indicative of historical debt inverts power dynamics and burdens institutions even if only in theory.

There are potential moral and philosophical hangovers from these endeavors, however. The very fact that these institutions organize exhibitions about their complicity in systemic oppression can leave them feeling off the hook and no longer required to address any structural issues within their walls, let alone outside of them. This has become so glaringly clear across the Western world since 7 October 2023. On the other hand, these kinds of artistic gestures can make hostages of the visitors who are on the receiving end of said oppression; who may become emotionally dependent on the institution taking accountability in order to find resolution in the heinous and unforgivable historical dispossession brought by racial capitalism.

The practices of Edgar Calel and Cameron Rowland aren’t simply artistic gestures. They are ontological disruptions that open up possibilities for institutions and markets to account for their ongoing violent history. Simultaneously they encourage other artists to find reconciliation and regeneration through their ancestral traditions, while assessing what parts of us and our cultures don’t come with a price list; as some things just aren’t for sale, or are they?

Edgar Calel (1987) is a Kaqchikel Maya artist from Guatemala whose multidisciplinary practice explores Indigenous cosmologies, ancestral knowledge, and the ongoing effects of colonialism through installations, performances, and poetic gestures.

Cameron Rowland (1988) is a U.S. conceptual artist whose research-based practice exposes and subverts the economic and legal legacies of slavery, mass incarceration, and racial capitalism by reclaiming and re-contextualizing everyday objects and land through institutional and contractual critique.

Will Furtado is the Editor-in-Chief of C&AL.

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