The Girls Who Spun Gold: The Handwerker Gallery
Ithaca College’s Handwerker Gallery is hosting the work of Nydia Blas, a local artist and alumna, from Aug. 31–Oct. 12. Blas presents feminism within African-American culture through photos and a bedroom display of African-American women: women who are fabulous, beautiful, strong, and exhausted by a world that tries to make them into something that they are not. Her photographs are without a filter because Blas is not trying to make her photos “pleasing” or “pretty” in the conventional, expected sense.
The focal point of the exhibition is the Blas’ bedroom display. Nostalgia and familiarity creep into the mind as you stare at it: It’s your childhood room, it’s your teenage room, it’s one covered up by the other, and it needles deep into your psyche. It is a challenge to look at every detail she has thoughtfully placed throughout the bedroom, because you are looking at someone’s personal items. It feels as though you’re rummaging through someone else’s room, an act made even more awkward and intrusive because no one is there. The pictures that hang on the wall are uncomfortable. You don’t know whether to look away from the intimacy or to continue staring. There is meaning in these photos, but you have to get over your aversion before you can see it.
Her work’s value is in its simplicity — the photos in the bedroom display look real, not artificial or imitated. When someone walks into the exhibit, they are transported into a real bedroom with photographs of friends and sisters. Her piece makes you think, “This is a reality. This is someone’s life.” Blas’ work is bold, in your face, and unforgettable.
Her photos are hung on the walls like they would be in an ordinary house, with antique worn picture frames. Yet the photographs themselves are shocking. Some seem inappropriate, others challenge societal norms, and others just make you uncomfortable. Some women in the photographs are not smiling, but instead stare blankly at the camera or disgustedly away. Blas gives viewers an array of concepts to ponder: Where are women in society? How does race affect gender roles? Is it difficult for African-American women to assert their rights? She deliberately plays on these questions, while providing glimpses of the women’s feminine beauty. She wants women to look at these photos and feel proud. Blas does not sexualize or idealize the female body, but rather displays it as it is. A photo hangs on the opposite side of the gallery with a woman showing her breast, not to seduce or look sexy, but to simply own it. On the wall next to the entrance of the exhibit, there is a photograph of a woman breast-feeding.
In her display of a little girl’s room evolved into a teenage girl’s bedroom, you will find a timeworn bed cover, stuffed animals, African-American dolls, and Blas’ old diary juxtaposed with items that would belong to a teenage girl: hair product, makeup, and gold jewelry. In this way, she is contrasting youth with age. However, she simultaneously contrasts items that are traditionally more feminine with those that are more masculine: sparkly prom shoes, half hidden under the bed, are juxtaposed by a pair of old, worn sneakers — showing that girls have a mixture of masculine and feminine traits. Blas conveys a message of change, flexibility, and strength within a woman’s life.
Blas offers a view of African-American women’s lives which is often lost in the feminist narrative. Her artistic prowess is matched by the intellectual thought behind her pieces. I encourage all to go to the Handwerker Gallery and check out the exhibit, “The Girls Who Spun Gold.”
