UNTITLED
DAVID HAMMONS, 1969
This isn’t really a drawing. It’s more like his body left a stain. Hammons made these by putting grease or margarine on his skin and clothes, pressing himself against the paper, then dusting it with graphite or pigment. Which sounds kind of ridiculous. But then you look at it. And suddenly it’s not at all. There’s his face in profile. His hands together. The body is there, but barely. Like it’s showing up and disappearing at the same time. A ghost made out of pressure. And it matters that this is made in 1969. America is loud. Protests. Race riots. Vietnam. Police violence. The whole country acting like it’s falling apart, while also pretending everything is fine. And Hammons is making this incredibly quiet image of himself. Not a portrait exactly. More like proof that he touched the page. I was here. My body was here. This is what it left behind. That’s what makes the body print so powerful. There’s no polite distance. He doesn’t stand back and draw himself. He puts himself in it. Skin. Clothes. Grease. Pressure. And in this one, the hands are together like prayer. But it doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like prayer when you’re not sure anyone is listening. Hammons said he felt a moral obligation as a Black artist to document what he felt socially. And that’s what this is. Not a slogan. Not a poster. A trace. A Black body appearing through touch. Fragile, but not weak. Almost gone, but absolutely there. A prayer. A record. Evidence.