“You don’t know CJP?!,” exclaimed the former Executive Director of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities (CAH), Gloria Nauden. I remember the night I was ushered into Charles Jean-Pierre’s opening in D.C. His figurative works were on display and, while I was intrigued by the works, I cannot recall feeling that he had found his signature.
Fast forward several years, I reencountered Jean-Pierre at a fellow STABLE artist, Shaunte Gates’ show, at Sperone Westwater, in New York City. This time he was not showing, rather he was supporting his studio mate. Jean-Pierre’s work did not resonate with me until I was afforded the opportunity to hear a family narrative.
How did a black man from Chicago, of Haitian descent, come to make these layered hand-cut textiles? What was the significance of the lace in his work? With his current presentation, “Kinfolk”, now on view at the Viceroy Hotel in Logan Circle, Jean-Pierre has certainly nailed his autograph.
It turns out that Jean-Pierre’s grandfathers were both prominent patriarchal figures in Haiti. One grandfather was a textile merchant, who started out as a domestic servant for a family of Lebanese/Syrian immigrants. The family imported fabrics onto the island. The other grandfather led the national chess club. Remarkably, the club actually served as a cover for artists and intellectuals, to converge and debate the actions of the dictatorship.
“My grandfather actually used to convert spies, you know, there was an art to staying safe,” Jean-Pierre explained. As a historian, poet, and sociologist, his maternal grandfather harnessed his intellect in all facets of his work. During this period of political turmoil, informants would be sent to the chess club to monitor dissenters. Jean-Pierre’s grandfather would quickly identify the agents, often befriending them and sometimes even aligning the operatives with his vision for the nation.
Jean Pierre seems to be continuing their legacies as a storyteller, historian, and textile artist in his own right. Le Petite Fleur (“The Little Flower”) is a monotype collaged portrait of a young girl crying. Jean-Pierre tells the story of a restavek (“house girl”); a child sold by their parents to work as a domestic servant. This is a common practice in Haiti, even today. One which attempts to usher upward mobility for families. The portrait incorporates lace sourced from Haiti. The lace is representative of his familial legacy in textiles.
“My grandfather was smart. He had this connection to textiles through the Syrian family who took him in. He started a business that gave textiles to people to make goods but charged them extra after they sold it,” Jean-Pierre explained.
Because the Syrians were Muslim, they could not accept interest. Therefore, his grandfather’s enterprise was a great success. People would travel from all over the island to procure textiles from his family.
La Petite Fleur is situated neatly between two works entitled Canape Vert (“Green Canopy”) I & II. The works are named after Jean-Pierre’s mother’s neighborhood, in Haiti. The neighborhood was a wealthier enclave that became a victim of deforestation, for the production of firewood. The house girl was depicted crying in the layered image.
The girl is crying because there’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Jean-Pierre informed me. He went on to explain that, in Haiti, girls are taken from the countryside to the capital, Port Au Prince, and given to families who will take them on. Half of the time, the women are paid. The other half, are often not paid and are abused. “People do what they have to do,” Jean-Piere flatly stated.
The intentionality of the placement, of the house girl crying between two abstractions representing the barren neighborhood, was not lost on me. Jean-Pierre, much like his chess-playing grandfather, is playing the bishop in the art world. He’s moving on a linear tract, but it doesn’t seem like anything can impede his trajectory.
Frankly, I did not fully appreciate the works of Jean-Pierre until we shared this moment. It was at this point that I recognized the need to slow down, practice patience, and listen before passing judgment. I would recommend for all visit “Kinfolk” at the Viceroy. Should you have an opportunity to listen to Jean-Pierre’s presentation of the work, you will surely not be disappointed.
If you liked what you read here, or want to learn more about Jean-Pierre’s practice, please follow me on Instagram at @Balmore_Art.
