American artist Glenn Ligon has been granted free reign by the Fitzwilliam, to provide commentary on the absence of Black and Brown faces and perspectives in a museum which in other areas showcases objects from these very people — the spoils of colonialism.
His work connects through language — with a stark visual representation right on the front of the building. A repetition, a dehumanisation, in large white neon glaring in the daylight.
As you move through the gallery, Ligon’s pieces are peppered throughout the rooms. Most powerfully, his series Black Suns appear all over a room, finding negative space and calling our attention to what isn’t seen, what isn’t there. They are like cobwebs creeping into the space from the corners. Travelling through the main rooms with these smaller pieces, you come to an end room where the largest pieces exist, a room of enormous pieces from his Untitled (I Feel Most Colored When I Am Thrown Against A Sharp White Background) and Mirror overwhelming with their commentary on the experience of Blackness in spaces such as these. It is powerful and moving to see the aggressively layered black ink, words blurring and yet filled with meaning and power. The layers of words representative of the years of oppressive language.
Finally, Ligon's most powerful installation is in a long room where he has removed the paintings from the walls. The sun-dyed walls show the outlines of the paintings which were there before, and Ligon keeps a single painting with a single Black body, and one of his own Suns positioned as a star. The room is filled with ghosts and echoes.
