A Pile of Imperialists

My husband and I were talking about fascism over dinner—like you do—and he said fascism is imperialism turned inward. Directed at a nation's own people. I hadn’t heard it put that way before.

He also mentioned Foucault's boomerang. I've only read Madness and Civilization, and this hadn't crossed my path. (Thank you, art school.) But the idea stuck: the things we do to other nations, we eventually do at home. Other countries become the testing ground. Foucault and others were talking about how Europe ignored colonial atrocities until they came home as fascism.

America has its own long history of atrocities, which includes destabilizing governments and overthrowing regimes. All in the interest of democracy, of course. Depending on who you ask. And what's been redacted.

I'd been thinking about imperialism anyway—setting sights on Venezuela and Greenland, selling arms to warring nations (while hosting peace talks, naturally), creating an enemy in immigrants. It's all more of the same, isn't it?

So I made this piece.

Making it meant diving into images I love. Gilded Age portraits in black silk and lace, rococo oils with ribbons and flourishes everywhere. Ottoman infantrymen in red fezzes, Japanese princes in military regalia, soldiers covered in medals. All that gorgeous fabric and elaborate costume, the wealth and power on display. I admire the aesthetics. And I get that they exist because of imperialism. The wealth that funded them, the systems that made that wealth possible—it's all tangled together

A lot of dark and beautiful things came out of this history. I can love these paintings, study this clothing, use it in my work. And I can still say no more.

I want to live in a world where imperialism is behind us. I don't think that happens unless we work toward it.

The piece itself is watercolor and watercolor pencil. I had several palettes open, looking for the exact right pigments to complement my pencils. A mix of drawing and painting. Layer after layer—watercolor, pencil, blend, repeat. Always scribbling and blending, drawing out the texture.