Art Review
Clifford Garrett's Art Installation
An Inch Wide and a Mile Deep
By Paula Reed
Mr. Garrett's art installation is encapsulated in a storage facility in the Ruby Hill neighborhood of Denver, Colorado. It is a strange juxtaposition to walk from the alleys between the locker units into a neatly painted and singularly curated collection of exhibits and original poetry about race, sex, God, and ultimately, what becomes of aspirations tied down by oppression.
The visitor is greeted by three documents framed side-by-side: The Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments of the United States Constitution (ending slavery, granting full citizenship to those born in or naturalized in the U.S., and guaranteeing the right of all citizens to vote). Just below these we see a photo of a group of nineteenth century Black Cowboys, though any interaction with Mr. Garrett will quickly reveal his preference for the word "Negro" over "Black" to describe his racial identity. Most assuredly, the men in the picture would have called themselves the same thing. Included in this small display is a sculpture of a horse and the frame of an ancient bicycle seat. Here also is one of Mr. Garrett's original poems about mass incarceration.
Encompassed in this small collection is the desire to roam, the wish for freedom, but the horse is riderless, and the bicycle is nowhere to be seen. Even if it were found, the seat is useless. This collection introduces us to one of the central themes of the installation: The aspirations of America and the ways in which our bedrock of racial injustice anchors this nation, making those aspirations unattainable.
A few steps to the left bring us to an exhibit titled "Social/Political Conscience." The dominant image here is of an anonymous middle class Black family in the nineteenth century. Much of Mr. Garrett's art consists of found photos and objects collected in his scrap-collecting forrays, the proceeds of which support his life as an artist. Here, we see The Bill of Rights posted next to a copy of a mid-nineteenth century newspaper article about the Fugitive Slave Act. We see other anonymous photos: a white family and a group of Italian labor organizers, taken at a time when Italians were classified as Black in America. In a nation founded upon the notion that the equality of all is a truth "self-evident," the statuses of these discrete groups belies that ideal. And there, on the floor, leans a photo of 1970s Denver ringed by mist, the Mile High City looking like literal heaven. Is it the shining City on a Hill dreamed of when this country was conceived? How can it be, given the images and documents above it? So it leans, forlorn, easily missed, almost an afterthought.
Amidst all of this is a brief biography of Clifford Garrett, the installation owner, a poet, a philosopher, and one who knows America's racial injustice. He cannot hide from it, and neither can the installation's visitors. All this, and we are but a few feet from the installation's entrance.
Next, we read one of Mr. Garrett's original poems, this one about street drugs. It is displayed with a lamp which doesn't light, and candle sconces without candles. There is a large display, a multi-colored depiction of a Black woman by the artist Carrol Reeves, a personal friend of Mr. Garrett's, and one of his poems, reflecting powerful Black women who have been hidden behind masks. It brings to mind "We Wear the Mask" by Paul Laurence Dunbar, a writer whose collected works are tucked here and there amid other exhibits. The troubling heading of this exhibit: "Mass Incarceration is a Form of Cannibalism."
It is likely that, when one learns of Mr. Garrett's preference for the word Negro, they will also discover his use of the word "American" to describe those most refer to as "white." It is his constant reminder that whites have centered themselves in this country and forced those who look like him into the margins. A white person in conversation with him is forced to be aware that whites too often use the word "American" to refer only to those who look like them. The next poem we read, "Scared Straight," wonders whether "Americans" have been reduced to the level of the "stupid Negro." Again in stark juxtaposition, underneath are magazines with powerful Black men—Barack Obama and Mohammad Ali—along with various artifacts of Black and white power.
For the next few minutes, one spins a display of framed copies of a variety of Mr. Garrett's poems, which revolve around racial justice and social conscience. These poems touch upon the castes and stereotypes among "Americans" and all the obstacles that prevent communication and understanding among these people.
Just behind these poems are poetic and artistic works exploring the nature of religion, science, and art, the more important human pursuits hidden behind the stereotypes, powerplays, and miscommunications captured by the framed poetry.
By now, visitors are at the far end of the first wall of the installation, in a corner dominated by a large display of photos of Black American life throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. A turn of the head brings one face to face with poems about American faith and the American empire, flanked by drawings of the American and Confederate flags side by side. Just beyond that are photographic and poetic reflections on the contradictory nature of America-the dirt of its past against the shining visions of its founders.
A few feet in front of this is a large portrait of Malcolm X with Mr. Garrett's poem "Man's Duty to Man." Here, in this space, at this moment, the Black man is the central figure, not pushed to the side, a mere margin note.
We travel past a collection of Black art and artifacts displayed over copies of the Bible and the Koran, books central to much Black theology with complicated pasts, before being introduced to the police as the pillar of the scales of justice in America. These hang above the "Thin Blue Line" flag, but the blue line is peeling away to reveal a hint of a Nazi swastika underneath. It is a powerful statement about the role of the police in the lives of Black people in America.
This display is followed by musings on religion and morality, the female soul, and the emptiness of the pursuit of money. It is just past this where one finds perhaps the most personal exhibit. The focus is on Mr. Garrett himself in the poem "Scavenger," reflecting his work as a scrap collector as a metaphor for his experience as a Negro man in America. There are other poems here covering street drugs, the effects of modern life on the development of the human brain, and poignantly, a piece on self-actualization—the aspiration all humans share, regardless of color. Our one true desire.
Beyond this are odes to natural monuments and to the contributions of America's indigenous people. There is a small but gripping dedication to a group of Black children who were lynched, their bodies left hanging to rot. Here is also a copy of the Declaration of Independence posted next to the Fugitive Slave Act article we saw early on in the installation, a reprise of the emptiness of America's promise if one's skin is Black. And yet...just a few steps later, we see a picture of a Pharaoh. A reminder that civilization was born in Africa.
The installation wraps up with its signature studies in juxtaposition: A poem about female power posted above an impossible stiletto heel and a glass slipper. A small display in homage to Jimmy Hendrix mixed in with a crucified Christ. In another display, a poem tells of one man who gives sandpaper to another who has requested toilet paper. This hangs next to a poem about the selfless faithfulness of a dog, next to another about a man who rescues a lost child, next to another instructing us that to be "the finest of humans" we must honor all life.
We step back into the sunshine cast through the installation's entrance just as we reach a series of poems about a man who died by suicide, displayed with artifacts and art that reflect the pain of loneliness. The last image with which we are left is of a Black man depicted as the Green Man, the ancient symbol of rebirth from Middle Eastern mythology.
Black people created the cradle of civilization. Ironically, when they were brought to America on slave ships, it was their "lack of civilization" that was used as an excuse to enslave and demean them. But the Green Man is a symbol of rebirth. The culture, art, power, and aspiration of Black Americans cannot be denied. America itself cannot rise without them.