The Brixton riots 40 years on

"I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air. A riot is the language of the unheard." Martin Luther King, Jr.

This, of course, is true for America and anywhere else a minority is affected and marginalised by structural racism and social inequalities. With its hard-line anti-immigration rhetoric and authoritarian agenda, Thatcher Britain weaponised systemic racialised over-policing against Black communities, abusing stop and search powers with anyone suspected to have committed a crime.

Things finally came to a head in 1981 when Operation Swamp was launched to curb street crime in the streets of Brixton, South London. On April 10th, no fewer than 100 Met Police officers descended on Brixton (talk about swamping) and started picking up Black men for simply walking in the street. They could so they did. A total of 943 were stopped and searched in only 5 days. This unprecedented level of policing heightened tensions in an area that was plagued by mass unemployment and where tempers were brewing. Things quickly escalated into full-scale riots: petrol bombs, attacks on retail premises, deployment of police dogs, destroyed vehicles and dozens of injured people. Brixton, the centre of the UK's Black community, was ablaze. At the end of a 4-day ordeal, the police had used 7,000 officers to quell the disturbances involving over 5,000 people, of which 282 were arrested, most of whom Black.

The enquiry into the Brixton events led by Lord Scarman concluded 'racial disadvantage that is a fact of British life' was to blame. He recommended 'urgent action' to ensure that racial disadvantage did not become an 'endemic, ineradicable disease threatening the very survival of our society'. Thinking of race relations in the UK, here's just a few things I have recently witnessed: the Prime Minister failing to display any empathy for the victims of the Grenfell Fire and a member of his cabinet saying they lacked common sense. I’ve also heard said PM declare the problem with Africa is that the British are no longer in charge. And meanwhile, many Windrush scandal victims are still awaiting compensation.

#brixtonriots #btixtonuprising #40years #blackhistory #thatcherism #policebrutality #blog #beyondthecanvasblog

Police officers make an arrest on the second day of riots in Brixton, London, 13th April 1981. Photo by David Levenson /Simon Dack/Keystone/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Ode to my mother

My mother died last night. So here I am turning to art as a coping mechanism, at least I think that's what's happening. This blog exists because of my mother. Not just because she put me on this earth, but because she instilled a love of art in me when a was a little girl. She'd take me to museums and art shows, our house was full of art books my brother and I would spend hours poring over. Mum liked to say I had 'the eye', the immediate ability to identify the work of an artist over another. Look at me, a wee Morellian connoisseuse in the making.

She'd always tell me which exhibitions I needed to go see in London, she often knew what was coming even before I did. She had such a brilliant and curious mind, she liked to be well-informed about the things she was passionate about. And every time I'd fly home to see her there would be at least a dozen newspaper cuttings she'd put aside for me to read. She was keen for me to stay connected with my Italian roots, insisted everyone else had learnt from our masters: Pontormo, Rosso Fiorentino, Caravaggio, De Chirico, Morandi. Of course she was biased, all Italians are when it comes to art, but she was also extremely competent and open-minded.

When I was studying, mum was the first person I'd send my essays and dissertations to. She'd lie in bed reading them, underlining the odd word she couldn't understand with a pencil, then she'd call me to ask me what they meant. Your English is too difficult for me, she'd say. She always encouraged me, always motivated me to cultivate this passion, and thought I was 'going somewhere'. I guess all parents think that.

Good night mother, thank you for the many gifts you blessed me with. Rest in light and peace.

Roger van der Weyden

Portrait of a Lady, c. 1460

Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Art , Washington DC

Laura Aguilar's courageous rebellion

“My photography has always provided me with an opportunity to open myself up and see the world around me. And most of all, photography makes me look within.” - Laura Aguilar

In her series of self-portraits set in the rocky desert landscape of the American Southwest, Laura Aguilar used her body like a sculpture, she is a human monolith. Her large body is draped on a big boulder whose shape echoes hers. It's hard to say whether she felt at one with nature or whether she was trying to disappear into it. By turning the camera lens towards herself, an obese, lesbian woman of colour, she shone a light on the underrepresented and marginalised.

I'm looking at this image and I am overcome with emotion. This is such powerful and unapologetic work, there is something very poignant and poetic about it. Aguilar visualised her identity and shared her experience of the human condition by displaying her fleshy folds in a way that is both proud and vulnerable. I had not seen such psychologically intimate work in quite some time, this honest representation of the female body has really moved me.

More than 6 out 10 women, me included, feel negatively about their bodies. You don't necessarily know it at the time, but it starts early. When I was little, I'd look at my Barbie doll's completely disproportionate body and hope I'd become like that. Today, young girls have to contend with the relentless bombardment of photoshopped and sexualised images of women. It all adds to a pressure that can be hard to explain or rationalise. But it's there, and every day it chips away at our self-confidence.

#lauraaguilar #photography #femaleartist #queerartist #lgbt #chicanx #latinx #bodyimage #bodypolitics #lovethyself #art #contemporaryart #blog #artblog #beyondthecanvasblog

Laura Aguilar

Untitled #107, 2006

© Laura Aguilar Trust