In July of 2023, I has the distinct pleasure of visiting Auguries of Innocence, a thoroughly engaging exhibition of art by Janus Falls structured around William Blake’s poem of the same name. Within it, Janus echoed and extended ideas found within Blake’s work, uniquely re-interpreting theme through colour and image. As one can tell from my review of that exhibit, I was deeply captivated by the expressiveness found within it, and so – although admittedly somewhat belatedly – I made a point of visiting another collection of images inspired by a poem Janus is currently exhibiting.
Hosted within her own gallery space – Red Dot Gallery – I know Why the Caged Bird Sings presents a series of 14 avatar studies inspired by Maya Angelou’s poem Caged Bird (also referred to as I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, which is also the title of the first volume of Angelou’s autobiography, itself referenced by the poem). First published in her fourth collection of poetry entitled Shaker, Why Don’t You Sing? (1983), the poem is focused on the themes of freedom, racial oppression using the metaphors of the free and the caged bird.
Through its structure use of mixed meter and irregular rhyme, Caged Bird is again a powerful statement oppression and hope for a brighter future. It’s a message that, in a world where basic human caring, acceptance and social concern are increasing seen as something to be reviled and differences in outlook, gender, sexuality and – yes, race – are reasons to ostracize and condemn, the poem stands not only as a reminder of the past, but also a very real underscoring of the fact that the oppression not only continues, but is spreading insidiously; that all of us who have an ounce of human dignity and compassion need to be firmly raising our voices against it, such that those who might otherwise find themselves caged by the ignorance of others might again have their voices – their rights and freedoms – accepted and restored.
In this, the art of I know Why the Caged Bird Sings presents a visual essay, one running sequentially through the gallery’s space from entrance (where Caged Bird can be read), and around the lower floor back to the upper and thence around the images there, which carries us from images of captivity to freedom and from sorrow to happiness (again reflecting the poem’s (admittedly more layered) mixing of joy and sadness).
Within these images, Janus again shows a consummate skill in using visual contrasts – light and dark, tone and shading, depth of field and focal point – to draw us into her art and the story it has to tell – as deftly as Angelou uses anapest and iambic meter and stressed and unstressed pairings of ideas to draw us into the meaning of her poem.
In exploring these pieces, it is also hard not to escape the feeling there is a further message here; one directly connected to our digital world. Second Life is a place that, for many of us, is liberating; through it we can give wing to our innermost truths, wants and desires through the expressiveness of our avatars ad / or our creativity. It presents us with a place where the bars of life in whatever form they take – physical, mental, social, familial, etc., can be escaped (if only, admittedly for a time) and we can find comfort, joy, happiness – even acceptance. Given we have been so fortunate to be able to experience this richness and freedom of expression, do we not owe it to ourselves and those around us to ensure that no matter who and where we are, such freedom is to be as open, as cherished as available to all who seek it within the physical world?
SLurl Details
- Red Dot Gallery (Turtle Falls, rated Moderate)
Inara Pey: Living in a Modemworld 