Fred Wilson's survey exhibition titled Reflections at the Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University in Waltham, Massachusetts, presents a powerful examination of racial dichotomies and colonial histories through a monochromatic lens. The show, which runs through January 4 and was curated by Gannit Ankori, forces viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about Western art institutions and their relationship to race. Before visitors even enter the main gallery, they encounter The People (2010), a black and white canvas in the museum's front hallway depicting cryptic iconography including a trident, stars, a swan, and a half-circle gear pierced by a machete. This introductory piece establishes the exhibition's central tension between absence and presence, setting a somber tone that permeates the entire show.
The People introduces a shade of black that is deep, smooth, glossy, and seemingly endless, absorbing so much light that the surrounding white walls appear dull by comparison. Wilson has built his career exploring the complex relationship between black and white, where one represents the absence of color and the other represents all colors combined, yet together they reinforce each other's fictions. His artistic practice consistently challenges how museums categorize and display objects, particularly those with colonial histories. Throughout Reflections, Wilson employs materials like Murano glass, European decorative arts, and caryatids to deconstruct the racialized aesthetics that have dominated Western art history for centuries.
Three glass chandeliers—Dramatis Personae (2022), Eclipse (2017), and No Way But This (2013)—hang alongside two Rococo-style mirrors in the first gallery section, each punctuated by black glass droplets that disrupt their ornate elegance. Rococo decorative arts are traditionally celebrated for their seductive, elaborate designs, but Wilson subverts this beauty by recalling Shakespeare's Othello and the interracial marriage of Desdemona and the Moorish general. While miscegenation was common in Elizabethan Venice, the play intensifies the social tension caused by their union. Most visitors would not recognize the Othello allusion without reading the wall labels, yet the chandeliers simultaneously function as critiques of the underlying and overt racism embedded in Euro-American art through their deliberate color palette.
Wilson continues his institutional critique with North Africa, Europe, the Near East, and the Americas (2003), a quadriptych depicting deep black figures with white sclera and teeth who gaze at each other as if acknowledging a shared pain across continents. The exhibition's centerpiece, Black Now!, is an overwhelming installation of 2,500 objects that Wilson has collected since 2005, demanding unflinching engagement from viewers. This massive assemblage pairs items with positive connotations, such as Black Santas and a cookie box depicting Meghan Markle and Prince Harry, alongside negative stereotypes including Obama masks, minstrel characters on praline packaging, and sexual performance tablets. The objects are arranged in altar-like configurations that summon uncomfortable historical associations and force questions about whether the display constitutes celebration or caricature.
During my visit, I observed many White viewers lingering in the first decorative, largely nonfigurative section while hastily moving through Black Now!'s paraphernalia. The latter's arrangements group candles, liquor bottles, and figurines in ways that evoke both religious altars and minstrel show displays. This behavioral pattern raises questions about visitor comfort levels when confronted with explicit racial imagery versus abstracted critique. Wilson's curatorial choices deliberately blur the line between veneration and condemnation, creating a space where viewers must question their own relationship to the objects and the histories they represent. The installation's sheer volume prevents easy dismissal, instead demanding sustained attention and personal reflection.
Reflections concludes with a series of monochromatic flags of African countries trailing up the museum staircase, while the Pan-African flag in red, black, and green hangs above the back door like a protective talisman. This placement holds profound historical significance for Black Americans, as back doors were often the only acceptable entryways during segregation. The exhibition leaves viewers with the persistent idea of reflection itself—we are confronted with a colonial shadow of real and manufactured images that mirror our current world and the distortions we have created. Until society truly faces the fallout of collective biases, the mirror will remain distorted, and Wilson's work will continue to reflect uncomfortable truths that many would prefer to ignore.
