Aaron Douglas (American, 1899–1979), The Judgment Day, 1939. Oil on tempered hardboard, 48 × 36 in. (121.9 × 91.4 cm). National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
Born in Topeka, Kansas, in 1899, Aaron Douglas moved to New York in 1925 and became one of the leading artists of the Harlem Renaissance. He studied African art and European modernism, developing his own unique visual language that brought together influences from cubism, art deco, and African sculpture.
In his early career he worked as an illustrator for Black magazines, including The Crisis and Opportunity, and accepted a commission by the esteemed poet James Weldon Johnson to illustrate his collection God’s Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse. After the book’s publication in 1927, numerous other commissions followed, including large-scale murals. In 1944 Johnson established the art department at Fisk University in Nashville and taught there until his retirement in 1966.
The Judgment Day (1939) is based on one of Johnson’s illustrations for God’s Trombones, made to accompany a poem of the same title. It showcases his signature style of silhouetted figures and flat, hard edges.
In the painting, the archangel Gabriel stands astride earth and sea, summoning the living and the dead to judgment with a blast of his horn. He holds the key to the kingdom of heaven, which he’ll open to those who have repented of their sins and trusted in Christ. A bolt of lightning rips through the sky on the left, and on the right, a light ray shines down onto a praying figure who is ready for the great accounting.
LISTEN: “In That Great Gettin’ Up Morning,” African American spiritual | Arranged by Jester Hairston and performed by the Leonard De Paur Infantry Chorus, 1953
I’m a-gonna tell you ’bout the comin’ of the judgment (Fare thee well, fare thee well) I’m a-gonna tell you ’bout the comin’ of the judgment (Fare thee well, fare thee well) There’s a better day a-comin’ (Fare thee well, fare thee well) There’s a better day a-comin’ (Fare thee well, fare thee well)
Refrain: In that great gettin’ up morning Fare thee well, fare thee well In that great gettin’ up morning Fare thee well, fare thee well
Oh preacher, fold your Bible (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Preacher, fold your Bible (Fare thee well, fare thee well) For the last soul’s converted (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Oh, the last soul’s converted (Fare thee well, fare thee well) [Refrain]
Blow your trumpet, Gabriel (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Blow your trumpet, Gabriel (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Lord, how loud shall I blow it? (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Blow it right calm and easy (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Do not ’larm all my people (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Tell them all to come to judgment (Fare thee well, fare thee well) [Refrain]
Then you’ll see them coffins bustin’ (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then you’ll see them corpses risin’ (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then you’ll hear that rumblin’ thunder (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then you’ll see that forkèd lightnin’ (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then you’ll see the stars a-fallin’ (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then you’ll see the world on fire (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then he will call sinners (Fare thee well, fare thee well) Then he will call sinners (Fare thee well, fare thee well) [Refrain]
Typically when scholars interpret African American art, they do so through the primary lens of racial identity, often glossing over overt Christian themes, expressions of religious identity. Beholding Christ and Christianity in African American Art(Penn State University Press, 2017), edited by James Romaine and Phoebe Wolfskill, seeks to redress that dearth by examining the Christian content, including theological significance, of works by fourteen African American artists who came to maturity between the Civil War and the civil rights era: Mary Edmonia Lewis, Henry Ossawa Tanner, Aaron Douglas, Malvin Gray Johnson, Archibald Motley Jr., William H. Johnson, James Richmond Barthé, Allan Rohan Crite, Sister Gertrude Morgan, William Edmondson, Horace Pippin, James VanDerZee, Romare Bearden, and Jacob Lawrence. Many of these artists were themselves devout Christians, working out of internalized religious convictions and not merely outward tradition or market expectations.
The essayists certainly take race into account as a factor in the works discussed, but not the only factor; political, socioeconomic, and biographical circumstances are also considered. Christianity, however, as the title suggests, is given pride of place in the selection and examination of the fifty-five images reproduced in the book.
One of the hallmarks of Beholding Christ is the diversity of styles, media, and denominational affiliations represented. As the book shows, African American art is no monolith, and neither is African American Christianity. While there is so-called primitive art and visionary art created by self-taught individuals with crayons, cardboard, or salvaged limestone, there is also neo-classical sculpture, as well as other academically informed works that tend toward impressionism or expressionism. Among the pages are rough-hewn stone sculptures, abstract watercolors, naturalistic oil paintings, and portrait photographs. While there are many depictions of Christ as black, there are also, per tradition, white Christs, and even a Middle Eastern one. What was most surprising to me was to see examples of art by African Americans from high-church traditions, like Catholicism and Anglicanism, who distinguish themselves from low-church Baptists, Pentecostals, and Holiness Christians. The editors are to the applauded for resisting the urge to perpetuate a narrow vision of “Negro art” in line with what the artists’ contemporary critics and viewers principally sought.
Another hallmark of the book is the rigorous formal evaluation and content analysis of specific artworks that make up the bulk of almost every essay, encouraging readers to look deeply. Biographical information about the artists is well integrated and does not overwhelm the focus on the works themselves. Given this image-forward approach, I must say, I’m disappointed that a handful of works, for which color photographs should be available, are reproduced in black and white—for example, Motley’s Tongues (Holy Rollers), Edward Hicks’s Peaceable Kingdom, and Lawrence’s Sermon II and Sermon VII. Luckily these can be found online, but seeing as the entire book is printed in full color with glossy pages, I wonder why color photographs of these were not obtained.
Lastly, I really appreciate the connections between artists made possible by the bringing together of these essays—some made explicitly by the authors, others implied. Douglas and Lawrence both dignified the art of black preaching by visualizing sermons. Crite and Johnson visualized the spirituals, but using very different approaches. Edmondson and Morgan were both motivated by a belief that they were divinely ordained to create by supernatural visions. Episcopal Crite and Catholic Motley intertwined class and religion in their works.
This book is essential reading for anyone in the fields of Christianity and the arts or African American studies. As one belonging to the former category, I see these artworks as part of not only art history but Christian history, and as worthy of being studied by Christians as any theological treatise, written scripture commentary, saint’s biography, or church trend. These artworks teach theology; they encapsulate hopes and fears; they comment on public issues; they expose sin; they lead us in celebration and in lament; they help us to re-member the works of Christ, and invite us into communion with him; they tell us who we are and from whence we’ve come; they cast a biblically grounded vision for the future.
What follows is a brief summary of each chapter.
In chapter 1, Kirsten Pai Buick traces the network of patronage that supported Catholic sculptor Mary Edmonia Lewis, as well as the multiple geographic moves she made to further her career: from Boston to Rome (1865), Rome to Paris (1893), and Paris to London (1901). Because many of Lewis’s religious works have been lost, little attention is given in this chapter to the art itself; the only art illustration is her conventional-looking Bust of Christ (1870), mentioned cursorily in the text.
In chapter 2, James Romaine demonstrates the shift in Henry Ossawa Tanner’s paintings from the visual clarity favored by nineteenth-century academic art to a mood of personalized spiritual mystery favored by the twentieth-century symbolists. He examines four paintings as representative of this move—The Resurrection of Lazarus(1896), Nicodemus (1899), The Two Disciples at the Tomb (ca. 1906), and The Disciples See Christ Walking on the Water (ca. 1907)—revealing how each explores the complex exchange between vision and belief.
Henry Ossawa Tanner (American, 1859–1937), Nicodemus, 1899. Oil on canvas, 85.5 × 100.3 cm (33.7 × 39.5 in.). Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia.
In chapter 3, Caroline Goeser examines the seven gouaches Aaron Douglas made in response to James Weldon Johnson’s God’s Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse. These images align biblical narrative with modern black experience to tell socially resonant stories. In its attention to the African Simon of Cyrene, for example, The Crucifixion (1927) promotes an “Ethiopianist” narrative, influenced by the late nineteenth-century biblical scholar Edward W. Blyden. Simon looms large as the most prominent figure, heaving Christ’s heavy cross over his shoulders, heroized by his vigorous stride and his active gaze toward God’s light above. Bearing similarities to that of the trudging African American migrant in Douglas’s On de No’thern Road (1926), this pose subtly associates the Great Migration north with the burdensome road to Calvary.
Aaron Douglas (American, 1899–1979), The Crucifixion, 1927. Oil on Masonite, 121.9 × 91.4 cm (48 × 36 in.) Private collection.
Up Golgotha’s rugged road
I see my Jesus go.
I see him sink beneath the load,
I see my drooping Jesus sink.
And then they laid hold on Simon,
Black Simon, yes, black Simon;
They put the cross on Simon,
And Simon bore the cross.
In chapter 4, Jacqueline Francis examines the dozen or so paintings Malvin Gray Johnson created between 1927 and 1934, the final years of his life, as visual interpretations of Negro spirituals. Modernist in style, these paintings, she says, united old and new and high and popular expressions, helping to revive and elevate this genre of black folk music that saw diminishing audiences during the Great Depression. Swing Low, Sweet Chariot (1928), a night scene painted in thick, dark hues and mounted in a gold lunette frame reminiscent of medieval icons, received the most critical attention in Johnson’s time, eliciting comparisons to Albert Pinkham Ryder. The artist said,
I have tried to show the escape of emotion which the plantation slaves felt after being held down all day by the grind of labor and the consciousness of being bound out. Set free from their tasks by the end of the day and the darkness, they have gone from their cabin to the river’s edge and are calling upon their God for the freedom for which they long. (qtd. 56)
Malvin Gray Johnson (American, 1896–1934), Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, 1928. Oil on canvas, 124.5 × 73.5 cm (49 × 29 in.). Studio Museum in Harlem, New York.