Sale on canvas prints! Use code ABCXYZ at checkout for a special discount!

Blog

Displaying: 1 - 1 of 1

Why Black Art?

August 23rd, 2021

Why Black Art?

Am I wrong for creating black/ethnic/African-orientated artwork? Does that make me racist or biased? I hope not. I just want to represent my people in an intelligent and dignified manner. Firstly, let me introduce myself. I'm Gregory DeGroat, an African American (mainly watercolor) artist born in Springfield, Ohio. My dad Daniel DeGroat, was what I would call a black 'primitive' artist. His ethnic paintings were crude, passionate, and SEEMINGLY lacking real skill. However, he remains one of my favorite painters because boldness goes a long way with me. What he may (or may not) have lacked in traditional art education, he more than made up with intensity. Be it an oil painting or a commissioned sign, my father's paintings seemingly exploded from the walls on which they appeared. They were unapologetically expressive, and he made zero effort to appease anyone's sensibilities. He was fearless originality personified.

I'm different than him in that I obsess over my artwork. Skittishness and confidence drive me like a jeep. To improve, I study great watercolorists like Alvaro Castegnet, Joseph Zbukvic, and Winslow Homer. Castegnet is poetically volatile, passionate, and unpredictable. No one gets more out of the color red than he does. Zbukvic is understated, intelligent, and understands composition. From him, I learn how to paint with grays. Homer is very effective but economical with his strokes. With him, less is more, a vastly underrated facility. They all realistically paint/painted what they KNEW without slavishly copying, which is my goal. After all, if you're going to be 100% exact, just use a photograph — why bother with a painting (just my opinion)…?

I strive to be a combination of all those mentioned above, including my father. Confidence, looseness (in most cases), boldness, skillfulness, understatedness, and intelligence are elements I strive for in a painting. I'm not asking for much, huh (lol)? But if I'm going to render my people with the dignity they deserve, these traits must be evident. Indeed, I want to be a combination of those great artists mentioned above, including my dad. That is the niche I aim to fill, God willing.

My brief Air Force career whisked me all over the country, and to Iceland. I've experienced many different cultures, from Latino to Scandinavian to European to American Indian to African to Middle Eastern. I may not fully understand them all, but I respect all cultures. However, what I KNOW is black people. Globally, we've suffered so much. The industrialized world conspires to keep Africa poor. They need its resources, and they need them dirt cheap to maintain their standard of living. China's current lending policies to Africa may result in more crippling debt if mishandled. In the U.S., blacks have endured slavery, black codes, redlining, discrimination in housing, education, jobs, and everything else critical to the pursuit of happiness. Our plight is our problem, as it seems that both American major political parties have marginalized us. These are the reasons why I paint black people.

I want to uplift and inspire blacks because, collectively, EVERYONE benefits from these things. I've no use for the term "victims," but I am acutely aware of the historical unfairness we've suffered. That's why If I create a caricature of a Negro Leaguer, it will not be buffoonish. If I make an image of a black woman, it will not be hyper-sexualized or lewd in nature. My pictures of black men and children will be crafted with all the taste, dignity, intelligence, and skill that I can muster. If I paint a cityscape, whether it be a Manhattan district or a poor village in Senegal, I'll handle it with grace and respect. If I draw a black musician, it will reflect our innovation, vision, and genius.

While all ethnicities and nationalities have validity, blacks' global situation is uniquely precarious. Even with my 'seasoning,' it's hard to wrap my head around my black reality. It boggles my mind what has transpired since ancient northern Africa's days of world navigation, science, medicine, art, mathematics, and architecture. Our current struggle is valid, and — again — it's for these reasons that I paint black art. And I'm not ashamed to call it just that. It is what it is. Ashay.