World OF: Jewel Ham
As she prepares to open her online gallery space, "Wrist Game", artist Jewel Ham talked to WOE about subtle gate-keeping, the most successful black artworks, taking it day by day and so much more.
Jewel Ham communicates so much in her work. The touching nuances and exploration of emotional experiences of black people are amazing. The Howard graduate—who paints to Nicki Minaj, BbyMutha, and sometimes even The Real Housewives of Beverly Hill—has continued to develop clarity over the years.
As she prepares to open her own online gallery space, "Wrist Game", the artist and curator talked to WOE about subtle gate-keeping, the most successful black artworks, taking her art career day by day and so much more.
What's it been like being back home? Have you been able to find that community there?
I think home is always an adjustment, you know, because I was so excited to move away for school. But I do feel like with moving home during the ‘rona, it's been especially different and pretty cool. You know, my parents have pretty cool. And I'm just kind of having time to incubate and reflect on my work without the necessary outside pressures that I feel like were present when we were outside. If anything, at first it was definitely challenging, but I think it's been a good fit. If anything, I think it was meant to happen how it happened.
It's pretty interesting because you were talking about Emma Amos the other day and I ended up listening to a podcast about her. Y'all have a couple of similarities, one being that after she graduated from college, she actually went home for a little while.
Yes, Emma is the bomb dot com. I have a lot of love for that woman. I feel like when you don't necessarily have art people in your family-- like my parents are our business folks, marketing, you know, things like that—seeing older black artists that are kind of the generation before you, and the generation before that etc., It's like, wow, those are my ancestors. That's really how I'm moving. And like with the position I had recently at the Art Students League, New York I was the curatorial fellow and I have the opportunity to-- virtually, of course, you know, the ‘rona--but met some older artists that were members of Cinque Gallery and some of the things that they were saying, all of them, I felt like I related to you and I think that's a really cool and special experience. Especially when you to have someone to not only look up to because, Oh my gosh, I love your art. But also like, wow, your process. That's mine too.
Can you give me some examples of what you related to?
One of my mentors at work, her name's Nanette Carter. She also was there first and Cinque Gallery asked her, because I feel like this is a really big element of coming into yourself as an artist and how she really found confidence in her voice as an artist and did what she did. She was talking about how she moved to New York and before she wasn't out there, you know, etc., that's regular shit. That's still stuff that people do, but to think that somebody who is almost 70 had that same motivation when they were 20. That's crazy. That's pretty fire.
While you talking about finding your ancestors in black art, can you tell me about learning art history from professors that were black woman at Howard?
I just think as a black woman, listening to black women speak on black women, it's an automatic understanding that just would not exist as someone speaking about black women from the outside. Do you know? And so often our narratives as black people are erased regardless, like they love to do it. I mean that's just history. But to be taught by black women, you get that careful eye. That interest in transparency and authenticity and the narratives. So you really get to see these artists really appreciate them and, sometimes, especially because I feel like the network of black art historians these days are getting tighter and tighter, you get to hear some really amazing stories. Like it's just a lot. It's pretty cool.
And you said you knew you were going to be an artist before you went to college?
Absolutely. It was really, there was nothing else for me to do. I was okay at other things, I just didn't like them. Like they were just boring to me. I was always drawing. You know, I like to read, that's a fun thing that I think that still informs my practice. When I like to read, I like to read about art, you know, Kind of moving in that direction. So I just stuck with it.
What changed mentally before going to college and attending?
I just think like before you're in college, especially being from somewhere like Charlotte that's like a junior city, you don't know. First of all, you're young, but also you don't really know what it looks like to be in a non-traditional career. You have no idea how to actually go about it. I feel like when you’re young you're just theorizing, like, ‘yes I'm going to do it’, but, you know, you're telling people you're doing it, but….When I moved for college. It was more like, okay, I'm doing it because I'm doing this. I'm doing that. I'm applying for this. I'm doing this. I'm involved with, this, this, that. I'm making this, this, that. I feel like once you get cemented in your major and also like moving with my artwork outside of college, as an artist living in the DMV, I does this. There's no question about it.
You sustained in college off the commissions, right?
Yes, for a large part. I mean, I had a full ride in school, so that was blessing A. But I went to Howard, so, you know, things were nice. Like people would be dressing. And I had openings, I had events and stuff. So to try to keep up with that that. I want it to be styling. Little things. Like literally pulling all nighters, trying to do too small, like two, like $75 things just to get a manicure. I feel like it taught me to hustle and it also taught me I can definitely do this and sustain. I can do whatever I want, you know?
But you slowed down on the commissions?
Absolutely. Because like, they were from a point of necessity. Also, they were small. Like sometimes I would have a good one, you know, God willing, but like for the most part, you know, like a big one would be $600, but you know, we live in the real world. That's not a lot of money. That's nothing. And I'm scrambling to do this on top of like schoolwork and assignments and I can swing it then because, you know, I didn't have a job job, you know? School is optional. It’s not, but you know what I mean. But now that it's more like, okay, I gotta figure this out. Doing things on a small scale just doesn't work.
I will take on commissions. Absolutely. But they have to be right. Like with my values, A. Then, does the time make sense with the dollar amount, because really it's about knowing your worth and knowing your craft. I do a lot of things, art for art's sake just because I have something to say. So if I'm taking away from that, potentially, you know, to do a commission of, you know, your sister's kids [laughs] I need the money to be good, so I can actually continue to live and continue to essentially buy myself time.
And what would you say some of those values are?
Strong with the black identity and strong with memory and family. I really do have a big heart for family, but I don't like to do just the traditional family portraits. I like old photos. Like those are always fun. I think anything when the person who commissions you really connects with you as an artist first, they don't just hire you as like, 'Oh, this is someone who can paint.' I feel like the commission likely will align closer with what you're trying to do.
I can tell you're pretty big on family by your paintings. There's a lot of mixing the past with the present, but still connecting it all to what's next. Can you tell me about that?
I think family is a large and extended term. I'm an only child. I live with my two parents and that's it. Like, I'm an only grandchild also as I'm an only niece. That's it. It's just me, but I got to college and all these people were like me and shit. They were into stuff that I was into. I would be cooking and we would be having all these family style dinners, all these family community experiences. The earned family is a big deal for me too. So I like it all. That gang shit realistically.
Can you tell me about growing up?
You know, I never felt like Charlotte was a home to me, even though it's where I literally grew up the whole time. This house that I'm in right now, I've lived in my whole entire life. But I don't know. It never felt like I was a fit because no one did what I did or was interested in some of the things to the scale that I was. I just felt like I was always, I wanted to travel all the time. I knew I wanted to live in New York in middle school. I know I was just not meant to be here, so I feel like everything about my upbringing, even subconsciously, but very consciously as well was an active attempt to be somewhere else.
How does it feel painting in the room you grew up in as an adult?
It's pretty fire because I'm a self-taught artist. So, like I used to just be in here fucking around, you know, like I taught myself how to oil paint here. I practiced and practiced and practiced in this room. In order to do the portfolio to get into college in the first place. It's a big full circle. I'm definitely appreciative of it, especially because you know that young drive. That high school drive when you're trying to master something I have to tap into that, that like an energy force, so like I'm bringing that in when I'm in here, so it's pretty wavy. Plus this is a full-scale studio, no sleeping takes place. I stay in a different room, so it's cool.
And how do your family feel about your work?
[Laughs] They fuck with it.
My parents did not play when I was growing up. They're cool, don't get me wrong. Like you can tell, especially if you follow my Instagram, those are absolutely my niggas. We are very tight. But growing up they were not playing with me. Initially--elementary school initially-they had no idea I was going to be an artist. Not like, because anyone said 'you can't'. I liked to draw very actively, but like no one was doing it. So it wasn't like, my parents didn't want me to do it or anything like that. It was just like 'where they do that at?' I remember one time when I was starting to get more serious with art --more serious air quotes on that-- like middle school, I remember my mom said to me one time—this is how serious black people were not artists at this time— 'if you break your hand with you gone do?'
Oh man.
But by the time I got to high school, you know, you get to that serious about college phase and it started to be very clear, like I'm doing this, like I'm out here getting like local scholarships. I'm in programs. I'm in this. and it's going really well.
And I say all that previous stuff to say that my parents are not the type that would be down if I wasn't serious. So I feel like we kind of fuel off of each other. And now it's like, no question about, 'What am I doing?' But 'how can I help?' That's definitely how they go about things.
And that's a great type of encouragement to have. A lot of your paintings are phrases that black parents say, when did you come up with that?
They started as a black parent phrase, but now as a whole, the idea is just using black specific vernacular almost as a form of subtle gatekeeping, because my paintings are for everybody by all means, but you know, the underlying content, the message, the feeling, I really want that to be for us. The context of the way people say certain phrases in our culture, in our community, the way they say certain words, if you read it written down, you would know what it was about. You would know the force behind it. But other people wouldn't necessarily understand. That's a special thing, a special language words to us.
I feel like that's what you meant when you said "if you get it, you get it." Like as soon as you see it--
If you get it you get it. Like if you don't know, I don't know what I can tell you. It still looks cute though. Right? [Laughs]
Also, I feel like so many of those phrases are kind of rebellious phrases in a sense, like some of them really, you would have no idea how it was being brought, at you if you weren't us, you wouldn't even know. I remember before, like I know people say ‘whew child’ inside. I remember before with Twitter thought that like, people who had never heard it out loud, but it was pronounced "woo chil-ey"
That's what I'm here for. This is for us. No explanations necessary. And I think that's incredibly important because the most successful black artwork truly--and think on a TV scale, a movie scale--there is no sense of explanation. There's no presence of "Hey, white viewers. Let me tell you what’s going on."
The best example I can give is Everybody hates Chris. You see that and literally there's so much that happens on that show and there's literally no explanation. Unexplained, but you know exactly what's going on. It's just something we all share. There's just no question about it.
Like he's getting robbed every day, but if you don't know that it's just like always let them borrow a dollar type thing.
No facts. Or prime example, think about she would say that the mom wouldn't get brands at the grocery stores. They would just have like chip. That’s some black ass shit. That's really how it be. That's really how it be. I just think keeping our spaces for us is the largest form of reparation there is. Because so much, I feel, white supremacy is us trying to like get ourselves where they are, but really like our spaces are the ones that have the most creativity.They have the most power, they have the most strength. So I just want to re-emphasize those.
Can you tell me about making Not As I Do? I feel like that one really represents what we're talking about right now.
Yes, thats OG. Well, as you know, do as I say.
Not as I do.
I think the idea of presentationalism, and I think that's something that's huge in black culture, of course, but also being a southerner, like putting on is a huge thing. Like that's just, that's how y'all be. So, I really wanted to capture a person that's putting on, you know, at the grocery store. I wanted her to be captured taking on a bunch of things that, I mean, bad shit, you know, allegedly because I feel like so often we really are showing images of 'this is going so well for me. I'm this is that. And this is that.'
And I think even though I painted that pre-'rona, like January 2020, I think super relevant now because like the internet has taken over. It was already taking over, but it was also like a fun thing. But now like that's all there literally is for perception of most people at this point. So I think it really becomes, what am I saying versus what am I really out here doing.
Do you remember when your paintings became visual narratives packed with purpose and nuances?
Well, honestly they always were. I think it's just like you get better at being more intentional and more deliberate with that delivery. Like when I was in high school, I was in AP studio art. And at the end the test was like a portfolio, but the idea is basically structured for how it looks to apply for art anything like any application, any schooling, whatever. So you're doing a portfolio and you could choose a concentration and mine was self portraiture through like the lens of self-realization. Really dissecting the self. I did this one portrait of me with my tongue out and there's was a heart on the tongue. Like it would always be there, but it was just, you know, really about fully developing it on a large scale.
How do your teachers feel about your work in high school? Cause it seems like you were already steps ahead to becoming an artist.
They fucking hated it.
Really? That's a surprise.
I had all white art teachers for in my entire life. They all didn't like me, except for my middle school when she was supportive, because she was a real one. But every art teacher I can think of hated me. And I think also that's why it's very important for me to push, to showcase that I've done it, or that I'm in the process of making being an artist like realistic and attainable. Because I don't feel like the way they treated me was that unique thing. You know what I'm saying? These people at these fucking public school will say anything to these black kids and it will really have you thinking.
But it almost was like, you hated that I could do it. It bothered you almost. And I really feel that now that I've gotten older and have more hindsight in general. I can say that about a lot of white professors I've had, because I didn't have any at Howard. If you don't have security in your work that it'll eat you up. But these people who are not even our directed audience for our artwork, they gone have some shit to say.
How do you think that has affected you?
It’s like being fueled by ‘Oh I can't? Watch me.’ So, I'm grateful. Prime example, the art teacher that I have the last two years in high school, she was supposed to be the most serious one. You know, the year after I graduated, she wound up getting like this fellowship in Tokyo, even though she made white bowls, town, um, she dogged me incessantly, she dogged me incessantly and I got a full ride in my department. So I was like alright girl!
What I like a lot about your paintings are the details that tell the story. What's the process of making a painting from concept to realization?
A lot of the thinking. I feel like I have the idea. It's like a mustard seed, almost. It might be that I heard a lyric and that was an attitude. And that attitude, might stick with me. Especially because before the ‘rona, I lived in big cities like DC and New York. So I would be walking and headphoning a lot. So it's like, I'm channeling this energy. I'm really thinking. And I'm kind of turning it in my head.
Then I think of, or I start to think of--or look for --a little bit of both. or maybe even photograph. It just depends, and image that kind of captures that like a main figure or a couple of figures that kind of capture that attitude or remind me of that same energy. And a lot of times it's not much finding. It usually, finds me. The more I have clarity with what I'm trying to say, I feel like the images almost come.
One of my recent pieces. It's like a table of women. I just so happen to be scrolling on Instagram and I saw this older picture of Nina Simone and a friend. Then I just so happened to find another one when I logged into Pinterest. It was another Nina Simone picture that was not similar, but in the same, vibe that I was going for. Then one of my friends that used to dance, um, they have crazy extravagant birthdays, and I had some photos from their birthday and it just all came together. Once I kind of know the energy that you're trying to bring, I feel like the images they find me.
I feel like that's one thing that's really developing in your work is it’s clarity. Is that just happening naturally? Or how are you getting better with that?
I definitely think it's something that happens naturally. And I feel like that's not a personal opinion. You know, I feel like in talking to some of my other art friends, other art colleagues, mentors. It just takes time to kind of tap into that because I didn't have it for like. Like I said in high school the ideas were definitely there, but channeling it into intention and really saying I'm picking this image because, I put this in there because this should be like this.
That takes a real time to develop. I honestly think while school gave me a lot of other thoughts to think, the year off really helped me reflect on set thoughts and the dots really connected. So I think it's just a little bit of both, like you're learning and you're experiencing, and then you're reflecting.
There's also a through-line of the world burning and your work is not necessarily political. It's just happening, like in revelations. Can you tell me about that?
I feel like that's kind of how I felt about that was I painted that at the beginning of, so I was coming to the end of my senior year. About to step into my real career as an artist, officially. I just felt like I wanted to do a painting that would give out the journey to get to that place and how to really step into your truth as making a growth journey, etc. I feel like it's an element of letting it go. That just is, and it just was. Not letting them go in the sense of it didn't happen, but it just was. Now what? I feel like that's a revelation that is constant because you constantly are having experiences of that just happened. Okay. Now what?
You talked about using the color red for black skin. Can you elaborate on that?
I like red. Well, first of all, I started painting things in red because they look really good. Before I get into the tea, I got into painting colors because they look good and because my parents are not artists. I think that has been incredibly helpful to me because everyone likes color. Colors look good. At the end of the day, it’s about a lot more—and everything in art is about a lot more— but initially before we get into unpacking all of that, people gotta like it and click with it initially. That’s tier one.
[Pauses]
But I think that as black people we're special. And I mean that in the most serious of ways, because so much of the inherent creativity that we have and the fury that we have that fuels that inner creativity—all of us have that. And the more you read the more but I feel like that, that, and clarify. I feel like that blood is almost ancestral.
I think though the more concrete though, manifestation of it was when I did the design for the abolish police shirts like that initial image was based off this book. I saw on Twitter, literally at this black man holding this pig, like out of protest, you know, but you know we ain't doing faces. I wanted to present an energy almost. This shit is awful. Like really I'm pissed about it. We are constantly pissed about it. Like my blood is boiling. Then I thought about it more. And my blood was boiling. With Trayvon my blood was boiling. Like every single time. I was livid. It was never less than worse than.It continues and my blood has passed boiling. Like I imagined if we were done with the blood boiling through the bone and it would seep up and be right under the skin. So that's why I’m using super red now, full circle.
And how do you know when a work is finished?
I just do. [Laughs] Let me stop.
Even that's a good answer.
I think that helps sometimes because I have caught myself overworking the hell out of a piece. And then like, you look at the work in progress pictures, you take it. And you're just like, ‘I messed up. I fucked it up.’ So I try to take breaks also. If I'm not feeling sure about a painting, I'll step away from it. Like, I think people have the perception because of like posting and again, our internet perception that my paintings are back to back to back, And that's just not the case. Like, I'll start it in September. I need to step away from it and I'll come back.And then when it really is done, the idea is done. And what I'm trying to say, I feel it has been said then, it’s done.
Every year you label your work with an overall title. Any ideas for 2021?
I don't know yet. I definitely think abundance is in the running. It's in the running, but we'll just have to see.
And why abundances?
I think that's just been the residual theme of a lot of things. Because really likes a lot. That’s abundant in itself. I just feel like doing with it what you can is incredibly powerful. And that's abundant. And also I think a lot of 2020 had difficulties and challenges, and even where I am with my work now is very relationship based. Like all of my people, all my friends, even if we're remote, my boo, and all that is also abundance. You know, being surrounded and lifted up and just supported. That's abundance. That's really been helpful to me. So, you know, it feels nice.
What’s next?
Child day by day. That's all I can say day by day. I'm always going to be working, always going to be coming up with new ideas, but I don't know yet wherever I'm meant to be next, I’ll be there.