Black Art in Candyman

Since the beginning of time, humans have used visual art as a means through which to express themselves, honor their traditions, and immortalize their culture. From the very beginning of the United States, African American culture took a different course developmentally from the mainstream because black people were enslaved, not allowed to partake in American culture unless they were entertaining white audiences. Instead, black people in America developed their own culture, and in turn their own art. Though they are recognized in museums today, black artists in the 19th century were never accepted as legitimate by white culture. It wasn’t until the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and 30s that black visual artists really made their presence and talent known to a wider audience. While there was a bit of a dip in the emergence of African American artists in the 50s and early 60s, the Black Power movement of the late 60s surged alongside the Black Arts movement, and slowly black artists started to become nationally recognized in the U.S., fighting for recognition that is still necessary today. 

Even by the 90s, the white conception of black art was still that it was a bit subpar, associating black artists with graffiti and vandalism. This misconception is exemplified in the representations of black art in Candyman (1992). The graffiti shown in Cabrini-Green in the film is seen through a white lens, specifically that of the main character, Helen Lyle, and is portrayed as scary, used to spark fear and further the idea of black monstrosity. In one iconic image from the film, Helen crawls through the mouth of a mural of Candyman painted on a wall, illustrating the villain’s obsession and eventual consumption of Helen. In the modern remake, Candyman (2021), Nina DaCosta puts black art at the forefront of the story, celebrating it through a black lens. The film explores the relationship that white people, especially critics and gallery owners, have with black art, summing it up with the line “they love what we make, but not us,” as spoken by the griot character William Burke. DaCosta questions why critics prioritize trauma-based work over that rooted in healing and joy, and fights that ideology. She hired real black artists to create the paintings seen in the film as the main character’s work, and the film’s website shares work done by black students at HBCUs. In doing this, DaCosta gives power to real black artists, allowing them to reclaim what always should have been theirs. As stated in a clip from the website, “It seemed critical that there were actual artists in the film and works that had social relevance”.