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Art Art Feature

“Take Note” at MCA

It was bittersweet last Friday at the Memphis College of Art. There was the sort of exuberance that attends opening receptions for exhibitions, but there was also melancholy as suggested by the show’s title: “Take Note: The Final Faculty Biennial Exhibition.”

A robust presentation of artwork by current faculty and professors emeriti is on display through March 17th. Faculty exhibitions put on display the pieces by those who teach, or, as professor emeritus Tom Lee puts it, to show the students that they really can do it.

But MCA is closing its doors next year and there won’t be any more faculty shows. Laura Hine, the college’s president, says wistfully that maybe someone will organize the school’s long-running Horn Island show, Holiday Bazaar, and faculty exhibitions in the post-MCA future. “You can’t stop artists,” she says.

Heather F. Wetzel with her 2012 work ‘Mapping|Mending|Missing Memory’

“When I started working here I’d walk through the doors and think ‘My God, this is so joyful.’ Everything is tinged by the closure now, but for me tonight, I’ve talked with three artists who went to school here and are now teachers. I take heart that these people are going out and teaching another generation of kids. That’s the happy part for me.”

Dolph Smith started attending what was then the Memphis Academy of Art on Adams Street in 1957. He went on to teach there and retired in the 1990s, but still manages to be there in one capacity or another, as artist and inspiration. But on this night, he steps away, saying, “I’m going to burst out sobbing.”

His work at this final faculty show is Tennarkippi Penthouse, a 2005 sculpture. It shares space on the landing between floors in MCA’s main exhibition area with Lee’s 2019 witty and sly installation Fin de Skirt, which connects with a “bouquet” on another wall. Lee’s emeriti status was awarded at last May’s commencement. Looking back at previous faculty shows, he says, “It’s all the same thing that I’ve been doing since time began in one way or another. It just looks a lot different than what I was doing 30 years ago. But it’s pretty much the same. That’s not a real good answer, is it?”

with their works: Tennarkippi Penthouse, 2005 and Fin de Skirt, 2019

He’s in the mood to say goodbye. “The bouquet that’s kind of dead and falling apart is pretty obvious and pretty funny, too,” he says of one part of his installation. “The other is the skirt that covers everything. This place has always had a lot more female energy in it and so does the artwork because, a) they’re smarter, and b) because they actually feel life when it’s happening and we try to ignore it, so it’s an image of that. Plus a lot of other kind of hidden things that refer to specific people, most of whom I admire and who I’ve learned a lot from while I was here, and a few kind of digs that nobody’s ever gonna get. Plus I just like the word ‘skirt.'”

Jean Holmgren’s digital illustrations are, she says, a bit of a sea change. “I fought digital tooth and nail when computers came out, saying ‘that’s not real art!’ and I still have problems with that most of the time,” she says. “But I’m loving my iPad Pro — it’s so fast and easy and forgiving, and it’s never done. You can always go back and tweak.” One of her works at the exhibition is a 2019 homage to IKEA instructions, an assembly of an impossible machine with impossible directions, titled Some Assembly Required.

Heather F. Wetzel, the head of MCA’s photo area, started teaching at the college in the fall of 2017. Weeks later, it was announced that the institution would close. “It was sad and disappointing to find that out,” she says. But also: “It’s a wonderful place, and I’ve gotten a taste of it.” Even through her sadness at what will be her abbreviated time at MCA, she still says, “I’m happy and honored to be part of this.”

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News The Fly-By

Hero Unveiled

The legacy of Tom Lee — the man who saved 32 passengers of a sinking steamboat the night of May 8, 1925 — is central to the city’s lore. His descendants, however, felt that the obelisk erected in his honor in 1954 failed to capture the humanity of the rescue.

Lee’s great-great-niece Carlita Nealy-Hale, 32, explains, “What they had down there before was just his name and something you’d see in a cemetery. His face or his body wasn’t on it.”

Last week, the city unveiled an evocative new monument that depicts Lee in his boat, extending his arm to rescue a drowning man.

The old monument bears an inscription describing Lee as “a very worthy negro … but he has a finer monument than this — an invisible one.” This engraving summarizes the family’s motivation to upgrade the memorial.

Nealy-Hale’s husband Miguel Hale, 33, says, “To me, I feel like they covered up his race. If that was strong enough history for them to name a park after him, it should have been detailed.”

Nealy-Hale’s sister, Charmeal Nealy-Alexander, 36, adds, “I understand back then he was seen as one of the worthy negros of the time, but I’m sure there were others. They wanted to separate him, and he may not have agreed with that.”

Lee died of prostate cancer two years prior to the old monument going up.

Charmeal and Carlita’s late father, Herbert James Nealy, sought greater recognition for Lee, his grandmother’s brother. After Nealy passed away in 1991, his daughters continued the fight.

“Even in this day and time, there was a lot of negative vibes against this,” Hale says. “Mayor Herenton said he didn’t want anything to do with it. They’ve had Memphis In May [at Tom Lee Park] but never included his relatives.”

Both women, born and raised in Memphis, relocated in the past six years but continued their campaign.

“The original statue broke, so that showed us it was time,” says Nealy-Hale.

She credits city council members Barbara Swearengen Holt and Ricky Peete with pushing the financing of the new monument. The Riverfront Development Corporation oversaw the project, and commissioned artist David Clark for the work.

The new statue signifies “big change in Memphis,” says Hale. “You can’t turn your head from it. You get a bigger picture of Tom Lee.”

“When you look at that statue, you know Tom Lee was a black man,” Nealy-Hales says.