Entanglement 008: Morgan Markey & Georgie Payne
Entanglements is a series of conversations between artists and those who know them best and have seen their work evolve over a significant duration of time — friends, family, partners, etc. We are interested in facilitating, making public, and archiving conversations that are often already held in private. We believe in the power of intimate conversation as a source of trust and authenticity.
To check out the full series of Entanglement conversations, click here.
Georgie Payne, co-founding editor of Dirt, and Morgan Markey, a London-based artist, have been friends for over twelve years. Although they do not see or speak to each other everyday, they share a special type of friendship that enables them to pick up where they last left off, even after years of not seeing one another. While catching up on such a reunion occasion, the two discovered a kismet overlap in their ongoing research — exploring the intersections of social satire and critical race theory in contemporary art and American stand-up comedy.
Meeting over zoom, they discuss how this research has informed Morgan’s recent practice living as an American mixed-race artist in London, and her most recent photo series, ‘Pink Nipple Dreams’. Talking through the work of comedians and artists who have inspired her practice, the two discuss how satire and humor can be used to name and address implicit bias, systemic inequity, and the incongruities of American society.
Morgan Markey, Pink Nipple Dreams
Morgan: Well, this is the work that I just showed in an exhibition this week, which I plan to expand on, but was created in the spring semester as I was trying to figure out how to tell a story within an image that is both political and satirical. Two of my biggest inspirations for this series were Carrie Mae Weems “Colored People” and Sonia Boyce’s “The Audition.” Those two works were the key to the sauce that I was trying to create essentially. With Weems’ “Colored People” series, I was really interested in how she is mocking the idea of the label or the word ‘colored people’ by putting this colored filter on top of these images, which I felt was really effective and used satire in a way that I felt was very impactful. In Boyce's work, she had strangers come into her studio and took photographs of them putting on this Afro wig. This was a commentary on how Black hair is made comical, commodified, and sold in costume stores. People tend to laugh when they put it on. I thought this was also a really good combination of visual images that can both tell a story and use comedy in order to make social commentary or a comical element.
Carrie Mae Weems, Colored People
Sonia Boyce’s, The Audition
And so, this was my starting point. Then from here, I kind of took off and started reading more about different artists that were employing this kind of method of positioning people. This work here is an image of myself, a self-portrait of me cutting out pink paper nipples and putting them on my own. This work is about the dominance of White female beauty standards that have forced women of color and women with darker skin tones to live this ‘out of body’ experience — from a young age, thinking that they should be existing in a different body, in a White body. Now there's a movement where it's becoming a bit more diversified, but in general, you still see predominantly White females as models or as representatives of the beauty standard, in the fashion and makeup industry, advertising, movies, and tv, everywhere really.
So this was a commentary on that, but it was also, which I don't mention in my description, a commentary on several comments from White men I've been in relationships with who have made comments on the color of my genitalia or nipples — commenting on how they're not pink, that they had never seen nipples that aren't pink before, or maybe that that's their preference. And so this is kind of like a mockery because obviously, these nipples look ridiculous. They're cut out paper nipples. So it's kind of a mockery of this narrative, this White female beauty narrative that is so ingrained in not just women, but also men.
Georgie: Well, I think what is interesting with the examples you point to, with the Carrie Mae Weems’ work especially and even the Boyce series, is that they all kind of point to this liberal sense of what is and isn’t ‘racism — this “I don't see color” mentality. I think with your work, and with the personal experiences that you bring up, there is this unspoken notion that these White men, and potentially the audience, have these inherent biases and racist tendencies that are so ingrained that they don’t even notice them. Like how they are suddenly able to see the color of your skin in this very personal moment.
Morgan: Absolutely, absolutely. I think that all of these memories that are associated with this work are from people that would identify as liberals and would say that they don't “see color” or they're not racist. One case in particular, the guy was just talking about African American literature and trying to say how smart he was for reading all of these books that were written by African American people, just prior to making these comments about how nobody would be interested in seeing my nipples because they aren’t pink. So it was kind of ironic that he would say something like that, but then at the same time, when it comes to a literary moment, he has to be the most educated.
And to your comment about neutrality, I obviously don't really believe in that. I think that our history, and our history with race, has to be acknowledged in order to move forward. I think that's a huge thing that's happening in the Trump movement right now with his attempt to remove critical race theory because he, and his base, are subscribing to that notion of “Oh, if we don't see color, we don’t see racism, so it must not exist and therefore we don't need to talk about it.”
Georgie: If you don't address it, it doesn't exist. In doing that it diminishes and denies the reality that these aggressions and this violence are happening, and that they are not new, they are rooted in our history.
With Boyce’s work, she is also speaking to the commodification of Black culture that has been so massively exploited by White people, especially with appropriating Black hair. And that is also an interesting contrast to this idea of “I don't see color.” They do in fact see them, and then either steal their culture or mock them as “other.” In this instance, taking the Afro wig and wearing it as a costume or a joke, plays into a history of Blackface, minstrelsy.
...living this ‘out of body’ experience —
thinking that they should be existing in a different body, in a White body
Morgan: Exactly. That's exactly what this is about. For me, in life and in my work, it is also important for me to acknowledge colorism and the privileges I have for having lighter skin, but I think that mixed-race people also endure a different kind of racism, a shared form of colorism and racism where we receive a lot of questioning. Personally, I feel like I always have to justify where I am from or how much of one race or another I am, and I feel as if I am constantly trying to figure out how to straddle these two worlds.
But when I talk about this work that I made and the kind of experience that I've had, these comments make me feel like an alien. Like you're an outsider. I think that is a commentary about White people feeling like they can take the Afro or touch Black hair —they're treating people like they are aliens. With this behavior, appropriating the wig, or commentary on my nipples, it's dehumanizing in a way because you're making people feel like the “other” in the situation when they're really not.
Georgie: Another kind of example of that, for children, in particular, is the bandaid, right? We are told by the manufacturer that this is “skin color”, and when that does not match your skin color you notice. When a White kid sees themselves reflected in this, they don’t notice because they are the “norm.”
With your work too, it's such a personal moment that you're in anytime someone would be seeing your nipples. So then it's also this conversation around how they might have perceived you before this moment, and then suddenly you're not adhering to certain White beauty standards. This part of your body marks ‘difference.’ Then you are having this conversation where you're like, “Oh, like, well, what were you expecting?” Maybe they didn't want to acknowledge that or see your race until this moment and now they are having to deal with it.
This also reminds me of another artist you brought up as an example, which is Adrian Piper, and the “ My Calling Card” series — the cards that were given to people who maybe didn't notice that she is mixed-race and to let them know they made a comment that was offensive, making it clear how she identifies and stating “Dear Friend, / I am black. / I am sure you did not realize this when you made/laughed at/agreed with that racist remark...”
Adrian Piper, My Calling (Card) #1, 1986, Offset lithograph
Morgan: Yeah, exactly. I also think with Piper’s work there is a multiplicity of her identity that she explores, she is not just one single identity or category. I think my photo work falls into that because it's also just as much about gender as it is about race. This is an experience every time you take your clothes off with someone, you are told to be shy and that's a stereotype. If we’re thinking art historically, women being shy and modest is what is most classically represented. If a woman is depicted naked with confidence we are to assume she is as a sex worker.
Yet, of course, White men have the freedom to make work about whatever the fuck they want. They don’t have to think about it. I want to bring up this amazing woman. Her name is Mitzi Okou, she is a Black woman who started an organization called Where are the Black Designers (WATBD) and her work is about how to diversify how design is taught through a White lens. Essentially de-colonizing the design industry. We were having this talk and someone in the group mentioned feeling this weight, that because of your identity, you have to take on this fight within your work and within your practice. Even though you're maybe happy to do it, that weight can be psychologically exhausting and it can be tiring to not only have to endure in your day to day discrimination, but also having to always regurgitate that, fight, for your identity, and carve out space for that.
And she was saying, “what do you guys think about that?” Always having to assume the responsibility for this, you know what I mean? Never having an option to just, you know, make work about, I don't know, like a fucking whatever, color, like Rothko.
Georgie: I think that is also addressing the problems of a White audience. If you choose to engage with and through your own identity, you are forced with this choice to build the relationship between the viewer and the artist in this way that’s based on their own bias and interpretations of your identity as perceived in your work.
This brings up the topic of comedy and satire, and how it has historically been used as a tool of engaging audiences on topics of race and inequity — which I know was the subject for your written thesis for Royal College, and coincidentally has been a huge area of interest in my own research.
Morgan: Well to bring it back to Adrian Piper again. I wanted to focus my research on artists that employ this comical method of communication because I felt artists such as Adrian Piper are a reflection of my own biracial identity and personality. Humor has always been the basis for how I build my relationships with others and has been a passion of mine since I was very young - so I knew I wanted to dive into this topic within the context of my own race and identity.
One of my favorite pieces by Piper is ”Funk Lessons”, because it's so lighthearted in a way, but has so much political depth and really speaks to exactly what you're saying, which is taking a stereotype, taking something and I'm making it a commentary turn, switching it into a commentary about White people. And they don't even realize it in the moment.
Adrian Piper, "Funk Lessons" as shown at Nuit Blanche 2007, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Georgie: If you know who your audience is then you can use that to point at something that's already there.
Morgan: Yeah, exactly. I mean take Richard Pryor for example — he made a very stark transition in his career, right? He was really well known at first for being the Black entertainer, a puppet whose strings were being pulled by a White audience. He was heavily censored for a while, trying to be like a Bill Cosby-type and then he made a decision. He wasn't going to be that person anymore. That's really when his career started taking off, when he just said, “fuck it, I'm going to say whatever I want.” He started being super real about his experience and about his audience. I think that moment in comedy is really important.
Georgie: Totally, Pryor’s whole routine changed. He was able to use his understanding of that incongruence and totally address and implicate his audience, while also leaving them laughing.
The most amazing part about comedy is this ability for really brilliant comedians to make some really simple things that you see everyday and you don't even notice, funny. People like Jerry Seinfeld base their whole routine on this. These everyday occurrences are made bizarre through comedy. So when you take that into the realm of a discussion on race you can see Black comedians doing this too — pointing to things that White audiences or even Black audiences don’t notice about racial dynamics. They're like, “did you ever notice that this happens?” That can be so powerful to name and address a racial dynamic that's already in existence but people don’t notice.
Morgan: Exactly. it reminds me of what you said earlier in this conversation about the bandaid. That would be perfect standup material. It's something so small that is every day that every White person probably never picked up on. But, you know, it's kind of this point of transgression where you’re noticing “Oh yeah, that's kind of strange. That's weird. Let me peer into that a little bit more.” That's exactly what I think standup comedy does. Exactly what you said. I definitely think that standup comedy is a way of allowing people to see something that has been so normalized that you just don't see it anymore. And that's the intelligence of a comedian.
Georgie: That being said, there's also a lot of stupid people who make comedy with really racist jokes. Comedy is such a powerful tool and it can be used to play into the biases that are already latently there rather than push against them, but when it's pushing against and challenging your perceptions, I think that's where it starts to get really interesting.
I’m sure we could continue to talk about this for hours, but I think for the sake of readability this might be a good place to wrap up. Before we end, are there any last thoughts to part with? What’s next for how you see this research and line of thought manifesting in your practice?
Morgan: Thank you Georgie, in the future I hope to continue “Pink Nipple Dreams” into a series of images that run along the same lines of mixing satire with photography — all within the context of race and gender. I’d also like to continue my research on topics related to race and colonization, not just in the U.S and UK but also in other parts of the world and to possibly document my research by taking on a few long-term photographic projects that in some way combine photographic genres conceptual and documentary. .
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Morgan Markey is an American mixed-race artist currently living and working in London. Her practice is rooted in critical-race theory and personal narrative, and centers around documenting and observing the reverberations of colonialism in herself and elsewhere. Markey began her studies at New York’s Parsons School of Design but decided to relocate to London in 2018 to study Visual Communication and Graphic Design at Royal College of Art, where she received her Master's degree this past spring (2020).
In addition to unpacking her own identity as a bi-racial woman, she is interested in how to use her practice to speak to a European audience, forcing them to examine their very close relationship with colonialism and White supremacy. Markey has been thinking with and through the seminal work of writers and cultural theorists Stuart Hall and Peter Fryer, who explicitly examine the race in the context of Black British identity. She is also hugely fascinated by a history of social satire and Racial commentary in American stand-up comedy. Looking at the work of comedians such as Richard Pryor, who used his comedy routine to name and address implicit bias, systemic inequity, and the incongruities of American society, she is inspired by the ways in which the comic was able to engage with his audience. With the ultimate goal of motivating her audience to position themselves within a post-colonial world, Markey regularly employs satirical imagery to broach the topic of identity politics by transforming and re-contextualizing the seemingly innocuous into the potentially problematic.