#invishkind

I originally saw this film when I took my German media class. I distinctly remember “Ugh I have to watch this super long SILENT movie” I remember liking the film and having an idea of the classist message, but I do distinctly remember that it kind of gave the tales of Romeo and Juliet. Two people separated by class, but similar in love.It wasn’t until a few years ago, I began seeing commentary on the film’s significance, with the rise of AI in the common workforce. I really enjoy the film and the style of sci-fi. I’ve even grown to like the silent feature of it, as it requires attention to action, versus words. As I dug into the commentary surrounding the film, a few thoughts popped back up. Thoughts I already had when I very first watched it.

Why are there no people of color present here? Is religion more prominent in working or lower class people’s lives?

The first question I disregarded since this was a German film anchored in the future. I just thought white German people would showcase other white German people.The second question has loomed in my mind for years. As a black woman, I know the value of religion for African Americans. But on a personal level, with distancing myself from structured religion and refinding it, I’ve wondered how much external factors push people into specific thoughts or ideologies.

Why are people of color in a limited view of sci-fi?

I asked AI, to see if this view point had some type of factual backing. I wanted to know if this move (in the genre) was malicious or a simple structure of creating a “uniformed look” to uncomplicate the message. Research has proved that both my lines of thinking are true. Whiteness in sci-fi comprehends that a distinctive future can only be imagined by one race. Such technological extents will be seen by one race of people, as survival of the fittest is in play. “Those people don’t belong in this world”. Simultaneuly, a creator can project their world, in a future they imagine. If their world doesn’t value a certain type of person (person of color, person with disabilities, etc.), then their narrative does not need to be explored in this dystopian space.

Do I think Metropolis is intentionally excluding people of minority communities? No. But purpose and impact are not the same. Their intention to bypass or not consider those people, will always drive the impact that the future doesn’t distinctly include them. The purpose, the message of the movie is still driven home.

Structures religion has criteria on it’s believers

Again this is a recurring thought I’ve had. As I’ve learned how structured religion was weaponized and reformed to drive superiority, I’ve wondered if there is a reason why certain people may be more religious than others. The question does not have a clear line explanation or one reason. Based on my research, these larger conceptions come up: deprivation theory, existential security theory, social capital and education effect. Deprivation theory suggests that people who lack economic, social, or physical resources turn to religion as a source of comfort and meaning — faith becomes a way of coping with what material life withholds. Existential security theory takes that further, arguing that when basic needs feel uncertain or threatened, religion provides the psychological safety that stable societies often find elsewhere. Social capital theory points to the community dimension: religious institutions offer belonging, networks, and mutual support that can be especially vital when other institutions have failed or never showed up. And the education effect describes the observed pattern where higher levels of formal education tend to correlate with lower religious participation — not because education makes people cynical, but because it broadens access to alternative frameworks for meaning-making. In the Western world, these lines are blurred even more. Western culture is a mix of old world values and modern remixes on culture, so some of these theories aren’t as easily labeled. Maybe my perspective is centered on my world: working class and low income people of color. People who face daily financial burdens, with traditional confines of what their life and future could be. I tend to think of these questions to position our human experience around the physical and metaphysical structures surrounding us. To me, our lives aren’t personal. Our lives are data and numbers in the grand view of humankind or a greater imagery in control.

📍UTOMA (Utah Contemporary Museum of Art)

After a long awaited *few months*, I was reminded I visited Utah, specifically UTOMA. One, this a sign for me to slow down. Slowing down is hard. Slowing down makes my anxiety tremble. I’m not completely sure why but I think it reminds me that my life is worth living, not surviving. Two, I am working on sitting in my spaces. God blesses us with gifts, yet, while living in the space, we are asking for another. However, the “want for more” could be the insecurity of believing that your blessings aren't for you. Blessings are never mistakes or accidental. But why does it feel so hard to lavish in them? There is some type of comparison, whether to an individuals or the ideal individual. My issues lies in "Am I good enough for God?". I erase those thoughts when they come, but they come as a testing moment.

Anyways, back to UTOMA. I stumbled upon this museum in my general search in the Salt Lake City area. For a university-based museum, I expected to see pieces from students and maybe local honoraries. But, no, it was a full collection that was handpicked and designed. Words can't fully explain the magnificence of the building, so I would highly recommend UMOCA to anyone.

Ringling Bros *Personal* Museum

This trip will be a two-part post, and I’m posting these kind of backwards. On the second half of my trip to Florida, I realized my hotel was just down the street from the Ringling Bros Circus Museum. I love a museum and a free day. The largest attraction, aside from the circus novelties, is the personal collection of art (mostly European) that one of the brothers collected.

Firstly, this museum was astonishingly beautiful! The sun stained pink walls were magnetic to the the green scape surrounding it. The museum is outlined in centuries. I realized this when I came to the conclusion that I was going through it backwards lol. This is absolutely the largest art space I’ve seen & really needs multiple days to digest. I enjoyed seeing the photo-ops allowed by patrons who used the space as a post modern European escape. Backdropping art while crafting new art, is such a dope perspective for me. And yes, I believe your 2-minute long Instagram story is a form of art and storytelling.

Now to the core of what this post is relating to. How does classism and socioeconomic status play into access to physical art? For perspective, the city I grew up in (and currently live in) has a bunch of free art museums available; however, in the environment I was in, I never knew that, nor was that a topic of interest for me. I found my love of art in my actual art classes and program at public school. Not every space or program runs with function or resources like mine, which I understand my own privilege in that. Let's consider the fact that lower classes have less of a highlight of leisure time and importance of creative freedom, as the weights of survival. Survival can crowd downtime or what is done in that downtime. Areas of escape may focus on pure disassociation via drugs or alcohol. Nonetheless, art ownership is a luxury. If you have pieces that have been passed down, you are enjoying the fruits of legacy. What about those who have lost everything? What about the immigrant family who moves for asylum and can't carry their art collection along? What about that painting that has been passed down from generation to generation, but doesn't fit the current trends or aesthetic of your home, so it is displaced to a thrift donation?

Northside

📍University of Utah

Firstly, glory to God for continuing to push me into spaces I wouldn’t have pushed myself into. I had the pleasure to visit The University of Utah Art Museum. This may be the first university art museum I’ve visited. Usually, larger cities have a city-wide art museum or institution. But for Salt Lake City, their main museum is the Utah Museum of Contemporary Arts (UMOCA!) *coming soon*. Back to UOU, their museum is a stand alone location, with a store and cafe. I was graciously greeted by a student worker, who gave me a quick overview of the museum and pathways. Then she directed me to their coat rack, since they don’t allow large bags in. It was oddly quiet, for a Saturday evening, forgetting I was on a college campus during Labor Day weekend.

Breakdown

The museum exhibits are broken down by the cultural inspirations (Asian, European, Africa, Western Americas, etc). There is a mahogany grand staircase that is anchored by white walls, as soon as you enter. On either side of the staircase, you can enter a large room exhibition or start in the culturally separated exhibits. I’ll share the photos of the museum separately, because I want to highlight one specific piece.

Affirmation

While leaving the West Nile room, I turned a corner that leads to an exits. The room is painted deep cranberry, full of portraits. I wander down the long hallway, admiring the gazes, while not being particularly being stopped in my pace. I reach the end and turn around. I quicken back to the beginning of the hallway and see this *almost* 9 foot tall painting. *Insert picture* As I get closer, I’m thinking “Who is this? How did I miss this while walking in?”. I’m going to attach the portrait here and give you a moment to take in the space and attention, I had to give to the moment.

Instantly, I needed to see who this figure was. Let me remind you, this room was full of Caucasian diplomats, high society individuals, who probably paid a pretty penny to commission their portraits. Seeing a large canvas of a Black man in a fur coat, side eye gaze and a mug of arrogance; took my attention. Then I read this excerpt…

I’ll give you a moment to read it … *👀*

After reading this excerpt, I saw a whole different piece. This wasn’t someone’s diplomat or leader. Yet, this person held the same prominence. Hendrick’s depiction of Corbett moved me to an emotional state. Hendricks knew Corbett and him weren’t destined for the same journeys; yet Hendricks saw an individual still deserving of admiration.

Let me run something down to y’all. Quick background into me. I was raised with five brothers, strong father and grandfathers. More importantly, I was cared for, nurtured and loved by a family of Black men. The images of women are parallel, but in smaller numbers. My image of men, particularly black men, is the highest level of respect and love I’ve ever felt in my life. Some say the downfall of black women is our “undeniable faithfulness and loyalty to black men” ~~. This may attribute to black women being the least married racial female group (whole notha story). The black men in my life have truly created a standard of human care I have destined for my future partner. Let’s be real, none of them are perfect. All of them have made decisions that they have either denied, regretted or wont acknowledge. But I was blessed to see behind the curtain. They grappled, cried, yearned and prayed to be better. I saw what their victims of attack, may have never seen. I was the little girl that could be surround by a room full of black men and feel the most protected. That was my introduction and foundation to black men.

Now, I know men like Corbett and Hendricks. I know black men who have the same articles of clothing, but they are made from different materials. Same birthplace, same school, same desires. One who believed that he could, the other believed he couldn’t. Both were correct.

I could nearly bet you the world has not been loving and fair to Corbett. This claim does not dismiss his responsibility for his own actions, but it does acknowledge that life (society) does not know fairness. It knows and defines structure. A person either has, desires, or is without it. Nonetheless, the world probably would never see Corbett as he is depicted in this painting. But for me, I have forever viewed Black men in this form: honorable, powerful, worthy, accomplished, undefeated, and polished. My vision of these characteristics has lasted through moments of unreciprocated love, which shows you how foundational the men in my upbringing were. I was almost moved to tears staring at this piece because I saw a man that I know wouldn't recognize himself, even if it was him who was painted. Again, maybe that's the foolishness of love. Love is blind to the cuts and scars we get from running through life. This painting vocalized an image of what I wish men like Corbett could see themselves as.

Poised, honorable, necessary and prominent.