The Seattle-based painter/sculptor James W. Washington, Jr. held a central place in the renowned “Northwest School,” but he remains an overlooked figure. This summer’s exhibition at the Bainbridge Island Museum of Art (BIMA) raises Washington’s profile, and deepens our appreciation of his gifts. “James W. Washington, Jr.: Many Hats, One Spirit” runs through September 15th, and you don’t want to miss this show.
“Many Hats” is a many-sided retrospective. BIMA’s chief curator Greg Robinson, in collaboration with the Dr. James W. Washington, Jr. & Mrs. Janie Rogella Washington Foundation, has assembled a fascinating selection of the artist’s drawings, paintings, and sculptures from all phases of his career. But it’s two other dimensions of the show that make it sing.
First, the exhibit includes pieces by 25 contemporary artists who have held residencies at the Foundation. Some engage Washington’s main themes—civil rights, spirituality, the life cycle—while others provide literal or figurative portraits of the artist. This exchange between past and present is beautifully moderated, and honors Washington’s living legacy 25 years after his passing.
Second, the artist’s personal effects appear throughout the show. Furnishings from James and Janie Washington’s Seattle home occupy BIMA’s upper atrium where the exhibit begins. The stately chairs, the grandfather clock, the hat-stand adorned with (yes) many hats all evoke the personality behind the art. The sculpting tools he designed for himself are on view, as are books from his personal library—nods to Washington’s resourceful and autodidactic nature.
Entering the main gallery, you can turn to follow the outer walls where art from the Artists-in-Residence appear: these pieces end to be large, colorful, and assertive. Or you can go straight to the center of the floor to enjoy Washington’s work, which, in contrast, has a contemplative feel. His paintings and drawings have a cool quiet gravity overall; his sculptures are mostly unobtrusive, monochromatic, modestly-sized, gently-rounded.
You can do some good bird-watching here, noting the many bird figures that Washington loved to depict. Most are shown in self-effacing postures, some are even wounded and gathered inward as if unwilling to emerge from the stone.
Washington’s works are not presented in chronological order, or grouped by theme or by medium. The arrangement is more free-form than that, leaving each viewer to find their own connections. (Washington believed deeply in self-directedness and would approve.) Drawings from the 1940s hang beside granite carvings from the 1980s. African artifacts and semi-abstract sculptures share space. Paintings of busy Chicago streets and other urbanscapes hang above an artful construction of metal, wood, and leather straps—a mechanism Washington built for show-repair. This curatorial mosaic supports the show’s “One Spirit” theme: he felt that any good piece—a well-made shoe, a loose watercolor, the sandstone bust of a politicalleader—manifests a universal spiritual force.
In 1951, he traveled to Mexico City to meet artist Diego Rivera. Near the Teotihuacán pyramids, he found a small volcanic rock on the roadside. He was drawn to it, or it to him, and brought the rock home. It sat untouched for years, until the day he transformed the stone into “Little Boy of Athens.” This was Washington’s first stone sculpture, and with that he went all in on this new practice. He had taught himself to draw and to paint, and now he taught himself to shape stone. The disarming simplicity of “Little Boy of Athens” (1956) led eventually to the finely-wrought “Jomo Kenyatta of Kenya” (1982), and to public art commissions weighing up to 6 tons.
In the 1940s, Washington befriended Mark Tobey, and under his influence learned to fully embrace his own impulses. He sought to “reveal the spirituality of matter.” He opened his work to the esoteric imagery and symbology that seemed numinous to him (much in the same way he intuited the potential of the rock in Mexico). Icons from Christian and African sources came into play, as well as symbols from Freemasonry. Imagery from nature also came to the fore as he matured—eggs and fish and the ever-recurring birds, even monkeys and woodchucks. These figures from the animal world may be taken as Washington’s shorthand for the spiritual force that animates all of humanity, all of creation. One spirit, many forms.
Many forms, and many artists, too! The Foundation’s residency program is one way it helps foster creative expression. A few artists in the show are familiar names, like Esther Ervin, Marita Dingus, and Joe Max Emminger; others are newer on the scene or based outside the region. Mentioned here are just two highlights from this treasure trove of contributions: Ervin’s “Bondage” is an intricate piece with beautiful symmetry and patterning; it also documents a horrific chapter of our history. Ervin shows that one thing art can do is confront and unsettle. But art can also uplift, as with Christen Mattix’s “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” This wall-assemblage is like a grid-based portrait—think Chuck Close, except with hymnals forming the grid, some painted so that the grid resolves (as you step back from the wall) into a portrait of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. It’s certain that James W. Washington, Jr. would endorse these two pieces, and a couple dozen others assembled here under his auspices.
Tom McDonald
Tom McDonald is a writer and musician living on Bainbridge Island, Washington.
“James Washington, Jr.: Many Hats, One Spirit” is on view daily 10 a.m.-5 p.m., through September 15 at Bainbridge Island Museum of Art, located at 550 Winslow Way East on Bainbridge Island, Washington.“The Living Legacy of James W. Washington, Jr.” panel discussion with Q + A is on September 7, 3:30 p.m. at BIMA Auditorium.
