Walking through Ganggang’s annual Butter Art Fair feels like you have been transported to some much cooler city, maybe on the east or west coast. The art fair is like a little top secret special cove tucked away and made just for you.
Every year, Butter has grown. This year, the gallery was packed throughout the weekend. New features like the classic car showcase and the photo room hidden behind a faux freezer door added to the allure.
After spending more time in cities like Chicago and Atlanta, I learned what was possible. I learned how people from all walks of life could come together for fun and good vibes, not just for sporting events or holidays. But Indiana remained much different than those cities.
Yet somehow, Ganggang made Indianapolis feel cool, even if it was for just one weekend. Right in the heart of the city, old and young gathered to see beautiful pieces of art from innovative Black artists.
And even for the people who had little interest in art, there was something to explore. It was clear some people were just there to wear fly outfits, show off their shoes and hairstyles, run into old friends and do the Wobble.
I went on both Saturday and Sunday. Surprisingly, each day I stayed a little longer than I had planned because it was just that good.
The art felt like a symbol of the mission — a vibrant, colorful reimagining of our city. This is the new Indianapolis — filled with people of all ages and races in the same place, sharing, laughing, high-fiving, hugging, dancing, enjoying the scene and each other.
This is a glimpse into what our city can be all the time.
On the surface it could be seen as a weekend of fun, but there is little more politicized than joy, love and beauty.
Politics enter when people decide who gets to experience joy, who is allowed to love and how and what is beautiful. Politics and biases decide that only some people can live freely; only some art is valuable or worthy of being on display in galleries.
That Black art is on display and on sale for price tags with lots of zeroes is a statement. It means what these artists are capturing in these images matter and will continue to matter long after the pieces are sold. As the art hangs in private homes and galleries, the stories they depict will continue to be told.
When I stepped around the corner and saw Autumn Breon’s collection of pieces depicting the Black haircare experience — the hot pink chair under the golden hair dryer, the golden hair clips lined up on the wall and the giant jar of “Protective Style” — her work literally took my breath away. I felt like I could hear the hot comb sizzling and smell that Blue Magic.
Getting your hair done is at once a self-care ritual and a rite of passage. To see the tools of the hair trade on display in an art gallery was both heartwarming and affirming. In this art, I could see myself.
During the fair, I witnessed a little girl standing in front of two large portraits of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, Jr. Created by Fingercreations, the moment of her taking in this art was what this event was all about.
This young girl, no older than 10, gets to grow up in a city where spaces like this exist, where sculptures, paintings and fabrications of people that look like her are seen as high art.
Whereas Shakespeare, ballet and opera are universally accepted as valuable, far too often Black art has been reduced to an afterthought.
What better way to be equitable than to showcase Black art with the vibrancy and vigor of the culture from which it originates? Not having to contort and hide aspects of oneself to be seen as acceptable is the very definition of equity.
Black pain is regularly on display for public consumption while Black joy is hidden away as a novelty. When you can’t celebrate my joy with me, because it’s too loud or too colorful, you can’t see all of me. Therefore, I am not fully human to you.
But not this weekend and not at Butter. This art says, “I am here.”
Loud and proud. Bold and beautiful. My voice matters. My art matters. My whole humanity matters.
Contact Editor-in-Chief Camike Jones at 317-762-7850 or camikej@indyrecorder.com.
