Once-vibrant art community fading to black
Macollvie Jean François
Haitian Times Staff

NEW YORK - To hear painter Essud Fung Cap describe it, the city’s Haitian art movement about 10 years ago was as colorful as any provincial market scene etched on a tableau. Inspired artists, enthusiast dealers and avid collectors would crowd a salon with walls covered in art pieces.

Nods of approval of an artist’s work were accentuated a slight gesture of a wine glasses, symbols of stature.
“Art was selling and artists were making money,” said Fung Cap, a former Elmont resident who started out as a portrait artist and evolved to a painter of enchanting works in which, for example, musical instruments blend into each other or people. “We younger artists took advantage of that. We were proud.”

Thanks to the great masters —such as Hector Hyppolite, Bernard Sejourné, Wilson Bigaud, Dieudonne Cédor and Lyonel Laurenceau— who put “naïf” art on the international scene, a few prestigious auctions and interest in their country, Haitian artists who came of age in the late 1980s and early 1990s rode a wave of boundless hope and sales, he said.

Exhibits were held at least once a month, Fung Cap recalls, drawing Haitian doctors and wealthy whites who saw their fond memories of Haiti on canvas. Haitian masters such as Philomé Obin, Jacques Enguerrand Gourges and Charles Obas commanded $40,000 for an art piece at auction or galleries. The 25 members of the succeeding generation raked in comparatively modest yet significant amounts of $5,000 and $10,000.

Riding on the fresh breeze of freedom since the country’s release from a 30-year Duvalier dictatorship, Haitians everywhere carried an abundance of hope, Fung Cap said.

A blue-ribbon group of Haiti-born artists was often on display at opening receptions in living rooms, galleries, the Haitian Consulate offices and the pages of newspapers.

Fung Cap said artists living in the New York area founded ADAPESH, a French acronym for the Association of Artists and Sculptors of Haitian culture, in 1992 to promote the art genre, give it additional exposure, make it more accessible and assist colleague with navigating the larger art world.

“We were very close as a community,” said Fung Cap, who moved to Marietta, Ga., in 1997 as the ambiance diminished in the city. “Unfortunately, things did change because there was not that much money flowing anymore. All these ideas never materialized.”

Now in 2005, insiders say, the group had failed to take advantage of their exposure. Instead, they squandered it with endless bickering that led artists to break away and forge their own individual paths, they say.

With a lack of art galleries, a dearth of reputable dealers and Haiti’s continued socio-political deterioration, the art of Haiti has been imitating its homeland’s life and going downhill, many say.

Exploitative dealers — as Corrine Jennings, owner of Kenkeleba Art Gallery in Soho — calls them, imported Haitian gourdes to sell in America for U.S. currency.

The overzealous patronized forgeries of Hyppolite and other masters’ work, causing auction houses to question the authenticity of many works and, eventually, ceasing their offerings, industry insiders say.

“It doesn’t exist anymore,” said Eric Girault, a painter known for tableaus of gingerbread houses who has lived in Harlem for 29 years. “Everybody is doing their own thing in a little corner. They don’t have any organization.” Carlo Thertus, a Lynbrook, N.Y., painter and art teacher who was among those at the forefront of the movement, said the energy has changed. Thertus said efforts to create an strong association of Haitian artists were doomed because the Cambria Heights-based group failed to come to a consensus on any issue.

“Haitians never got together to allow growth to take place,” Thertus, a member of the about 20-member ADAPESH said. “Every time there was a meeting, there was hostility. Every time you invite them to a show, it’s like trying to take out an ulcer.” In contrast, the generation of artists born here or who immigrated at an early age has gained attention in several art circles. In exhibits and sales, they are beginning to eclipse their predecessors with their innovative style and marketing savvy. More opportunities are now available and the art is really strong,” Jenning said. “Many Haitian artists are included in the whole African-American Diaspora movement,” she said.

Jean Dominique Volcy, a painter based in Mill Basin, is among those who has experimented with several techniques, a departure from the European and naïf style that made Haiti’s art famous. He said younger collectors have emerged in the past decade, a result of the increase in Haitian-Americans interested in their culture who have the an abundance of disposable income. “You have to do your own public relations,” said Volcy, who organized show in 2002 in his back yard to expose local artists. “Then, you’ll be able to do better.”

Magda Guillaume, owner of Expressions Art Gallery in Crown Heights, began exhibiting the work of Haitian-born artists regularly about three years ago. She said most use a variety of styles — expressionism, contemporary abstract, for example — and often forgo the traditional bright colors of tropical forests. “They’re artists first and they’re Haitian [also],” Guillaume said. “Haiti shows through in that, but they’re artists first. . . . ‘Typical’ Haitian really doesn’t exist, unless it’s naïf.”

In New York, artists Francks Deceus, Jean-Moise Gay, Stanley Philoche and Albert Depas come to mind. Some of their work is more abstract. Philoche’s work shows no hint of Haiti. In one show on the Upper East Side, his series was of bi- and tri-colored columns on canvas.

Described as a “smart naïf” by New York magazine, Jean-Michel Basquiat exploded unto the New York art scene in the drug-laced, narcissist 1980s. Born to Haitian and Puerto Rican parents, Basquiat was a self-taught artist who had dreams of being a star. Like a shooting star, the flashy, drug-addicted artist died in 1988 at the young age of 27. But the work that he left behind still captivates mass audiences. Over the spring, his work was displayed at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Unlike other Haitian artists who struggle to get the tiniest mention in a community newspaper, the worldwide media still clamors to review and examine Basquiat’s work and tragic life.

Of Basquiat’s work that was on display at the Brooklyn Museum, Mark Stevens of New York magazine said in an art review: “He did not have much formal training as a painter and did not pretend otherwise, perhaps sensing that without a long apprenticeship, pretenders to the high tradition become derivative artists. Instead, he developed a distinctive, rough style that has the aura of a self-taught, sui generis outsider who lives in the middle of nowhere. Except, of course, that this smart naïf lived in the heart of the New York art world. In Basquiat’s best pictures, the skeletal, puppetlike figures have an eruptive electric intensity, like those cartoon characters that get plugged into a light socket or those African or Caribbean figures who vibrate with such spiritual intensity, they’re shaken free of the ordinary.”

Jennings said many more books, documentation, events and improved communication have become available in the past five years. But Haiti’s never-ending turmoil does keep some paintbrushes wet. Last year, for example, many used the bicentennial theme to pass on political and social messages about the 200-year-old republic.

Missed Opportunities
Industry insiders paint a picture of many Haitian artists in their late 40s and onward being left behind because they are unable to take advantage of opportunities as a collective, although certain individuals continue to command awesome prices. Consequently, dreams of museum wings filled with art by Haitian artists remain suspended, the say.

Carolyn Mehu, co-owner of Mehu Gallery in Harlem, said her and her husband Herve, who is Haitian, displayed Haitian art exclusively decades ago. Over the years, however, the number of other styles has increased while the Haitian genre has plateaued, she said.

And although Haitian shows always draw gracious spectators, they do not buy, she said, partly because their disposable income does not allow for the luxury. Mehu attributes the decrease in sales to the negative publicity that Haiti began getting about 15 years ago. Tourists who purchased paintings, sculptures and crafts as souvenirs of trips to Haiti no longer visit the troubled country and the impression that Haitian art is no longer exotic since black images are more common may be factors, Mehu said.

Forgeries have also had a negative effect on the art business, according to Jennings, as a result of dishonest “stone-cold business people” becoming involved and pushing out those who dabbled as dealers because their primary motivation is the product.

Those who do buy, Mehu said, tend to purchase the Haitian-American artists pieces instead of by those who continue to paint “like they’re still in Haiti.”

The existence of the Haitian artists in the New York area reached maximum exposure in the pages of The New York Times, it seemed, during the early to mid-1990s with numerous articles, a few of them written by Garry Pierre-Pierre, now publisher of the Haitian Times, which displays Haitian paintings in this Prospect Heights office. The articles made many names recognizable or shone a brighter light on others — Emmanuel Dostaly, Patrick Wah, Regine Louis, Thertus, Fung Cap, Andre Juste and wife Vladimir Cybil, Eric Girault, Toussaint Auguste and Emmanuel Merisier.

Yolène Legrand, a former investment banker who began marketing her paintings heavily about 10 years ago, said those artists should have taken advantage of the exposure by pushing their work into many more venues accessible to the prominent journal’s readers. “People reading the New York Times had no access to these artists,” Legrand said. “In time, they forget the names and don’t keep abreast.” Mehu added that while there are wonderful artists in the city, not having galleries or other venues to gain attention means that they cannot be accepted. Thertus, an abstract expressionist painter and sculptor, sees things a different way. “If you’re doing serious art, you don’t have a chance,” he said. “But if you do some do-hickey, decorative stick figures, then they are interested.”

Yet, even Thertus admits, the proliferation of Haitian art into the permanent collections at well-known museums and galleries did not occur because the artists lacked organization. Some, he said, were not enthusiastic about several ideas he proposed, among them a “Haitian Artists in New York” show and the joint purchase of a 4,000-square foot warehouse in Nassau County that could be turned into a Haitian art center.

“They all moved on with their own little space,” he said, including himself among those who struck out on their own. “But when we do it that way, we really can’t go on. Everyone will jump around from hole to hole in their own little space.” Certain artists have figured out how to access the star makers or, at least, make a living by heading to shows across the nation.

Fung Cap, for one, developed a Web site and travels often, they stay aware of industry trends through forums, practice and shows. Girault managers his work from Harlem, also has a Web site and is scheduled to be at “Off the Main: the Show of Contemporary African Caribbean and Latin American Art” Oct. 8-10 at the Puck Building in Manhattan.

Legrand is among those who have been successful at marketing their work, developed Web sites and stayed in contact with gallery owners and collectors of black art. She utilizes her master’s degree in finance and corporate know-how to keep from becoming a starving artist. She sends postcards, keeps a database, authenticates her work and secures shows such as the one at Dorsey’s Art Galley in Lefferts Gardens which closed Sept. 24.

But Haiti’s crumbling socio-political condition still holds her back a bit, since she must visit the tropical country for inspiration and to paint realistic depictions of the human landscape, such as woman climbing a hilly road in Jacmel.
She has visited regularly and planned to travel there earlier this year, but her sister residing there warned her not to go because of the kidnappings. “She said, ‘wait until after the election,’ ” Legrand said.

When a fund-raising organizer contacted her, she planned to bring pieces of her Cape Cod series, but the officials said they wanted Haiti. Legrand, a Manhattanite whose work was on the front and back covers of Tribes literary and art magazine, said to compensate, she and other artists often search for scenery similar to Haiti, using the coast of towns along the Atlantic instead.

“Haiti is a source of inspiration,” she said. “If there’s instability and I can’t go, then I can’t get inspired.”

Online Galleries
Ruth and Walter Khan started the Internet gallery Medalia Art a few years ago, when she could not find physical galleries to visit for art by Haitians. The couple attempted to collect from Haiti, but in one instance, a shipment of two Andre Pierre pieces took at least six months to receive in her Setauket, N.Y., home. The Web site is one of dozens either selling Haitian art directly or linking visitors to artists’ Web pages. Photographs of artwork are displayed online, with their dimensions and artist information as well as prices. Medalia Art carries more than 300 pieces at present, from unframed landscapes at $87 to a $20,000 Bernard Wah titled “Voodoo.”

A long-time collector who fell in love with Haiti’s art when she visited in 1975 with her husband, Khan said attempts to travel there have been thwarted on several occasions by violence there until the couple went for a return visit in 1995. Still, some have tried to send forgeries, which she recognizes and rejects.

Resolving the problems and putting the art of Haiti back in the position it enjoyed years ago, Thertus said artists must curb their egos and jealousies, establish a center or gallery to promote their work and learn to trust each other.

“Maybe what has to happen is that the label ‘Haitian’ should be removed,” Mehu said. “Most people think of it as folk art by self-taught artists. You can’t have everybody bunched under one label. It just won’t work.” Financing to support art projects, international shows after the elections and humility are among the suggestions to set the stage for Haitian art to shine on again, some say. Khan suggested more patrons should the art on display, through such exhibits as filmmaker and collector Jonathan Demme’s in 1997 in midtown.

The art of Haiti does remain ubiquitous, available for viewing at many local offices and the homes of Haitians and other lovers of the country’s art. Drs. Jean-Claude Compas and Fred Montas and attorney Sanford Rubenstein are a few of many professionals whose office walls rival those of some galleries. Translator and activist Florence Comeau in Brooklyn displays a works of several Haitian artists on her wall, compelling visitors to ask about the piece.

“Haiti as country or the art are both the same,” Thertus said. “Neither can live without the other. If [reform] cannot happen at the cultural level, it is impossible for it to happen at a wider civil, political level.

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