To Hang, or be Hung
A critical reflection on "Cell 72" by Allen-Golden Carpenter & Emmanuel Massillon at Harlesden High Street
Tis’ the season. Everybody and they momma pulling up. WhatsApp group chats are alive with free codes, dinner invites, and exclusive parties; everyone wants to go— will there be coat check? London begs to be the star—-> creating unique oasis’s and highlighting small to mid-tier galleries that critically engage with young scholars and academics—- something you’d hope to see at Frieze itself; but that game is pure politics: come buy me, look at me, oh yes, this is a replica but that doesn’t matter, what can you do for me— bet, bet bet. Then, I can do this for you.
I embrace it all— this doesn’t mean it’s void of critical criticism, but the eco system of the art world demands you to be able to navigate the matrix—- to be able to snap into it as well as, snap out of it—- this can be difficult for many people. The fear of missing out causes people to burnout and Buzz Lightyear themselves to ensure sales; to ensure golden tickets; to ensure validation—-> to each their own—-> I am not here to judge—- I am merely observing others as well as myself.
No cap, I like me a lil golden ticket. I have collected a handful myself.
Many things can be true at once: 1 for sure, 2 for certain.
During my studies at the Royal College of Art, curators Jarelle Francis and Louis Chapple guided myself and multi-disciplinary artist, Shayla Marshall to an opening at Harlesden High Street: Man Like… by Jerome Ince Mitchell. The floors were an activated canvas; oil pastels and wood— black, tar-like material trudged while people drank and spilled beer. The lights were off and a slide show of photographs were projected onto the back wall.
Harlesden High Street is an upbeat gallery space owned by Johnny Tanna in NW London— the intimate space is transformed equitably with each featured artist—->
Emmanuel Massillon and Allen-Golden Carpenter have collaborated and brought to life a feaux prison cell to be occupied by Carpenter for 72 hours at Harlesden High Street. Sometime last year I spoke to Massillon about this project, I asked about the potential connotations of voluntarily locking up someone in Northwest London— a black man, a young black man— a black American, a nigga—- in the U.K. —- he didn’t seem to worried about it, but ready perhaps for the onset of those who may be critical of the project.
"Cell 72: The Cost of Confinement is an exhibition which aims to provide a raw and unfiltered insight into the inhuman conditions and psychological effects of incarceration, drawing attention to the often overlooked realities of prison life…. The all-glass storefront allows for passersby to witness the performance, adding a unique element of public engagement to the work….(via London Gallery Weekend).
Getting my social media dopamine hit of the day, I was tapping through Instagram stories and sat up immediately; the conceptual niggas were at each others necks. I was completely gagged and utterly entertained for comments that I read, alongside valid retorts back. Some replies are very Obama and others, very Minaj.
I feel alive when niggas just say shit with their chests in the eco-system. This does not mean I agree—> but I always see an opportunity that I believe is missing in these art spaces amongst my younger cohort—-> same table discourse and dialogue……. to consider, to ponder, to imagine—-> & then, still go about our business executing in the mediums we believe best articulate our lived and observed perspectives; to play, to fight, to experiment.
There is no right or wrong way to develop ideas, however this does not mean shit is void of valid critique, inquiry, and observation, even if you spurn it to the wayside.
Our brains are worthy of potential new neurological pathways by being challenged.
The 72 hour cosplay with surveillance via camera and public spectatorship is warranted a side-eye as much as it is warranted a surrender. Serious, sensitive, and silly artist Oji Haynes left a public comment on Instagram via a collaborated post by @allengolder x @massi:
“I ain't gon lie y'all... this ain't it. Someone gotta tell y'all and it's def not gon be the whites in london so let it be me. i respect y'all and y'all work... but this not it”
The retort was not made public and I wish it was because I was living for it. The best way I can describe the frequency is through this video:
Being energized by this, I feel a bit critically toxic. However, after sitting with the retort, I was yanked to think about how black hands, reach to connect with one another in these eco systems, and how quickly a gentle hand embrace can become a less-than-romantic agitated pinky hold after opinions on artworks are publicized on the main stage. The connection pivots from genuine—→ to politics: causing conceptual divorces amongst the few niggas in the space.
But my question is, if a nigga mentions your name in a room, does that mean you owe that nigga your life?
Actually, one more: if a nigga can’t publicly express their dissatisfaction with your work, is it really beef?
One more, one more!: can we get these virtual retorts at a public artist talk so niggas can get their ideas off, argumentatively? Critically? Boldly? Responses do not have to be limited to group chats, close friends lists, or an alchemized self-muting conjuring internal turmoil. Apart of this framing is missing due to the confrontational nature going against white ethics and those whom fall in line with them.
Carpenter and Massillon have a goal which is to add to the discussion of “prison reform”—currently not in London, I have to rely on my vivid imagination, social media commentary, online articles, hopeful DM replies to my journalism pesters, and previous discussions to meditate with the exposè. Multidisciplinary conceptual artist, Kevin Claiborne poses the question that many seem to be considering. Respectfully he asks:
…what does it mean to rehearse confinement in a space designed for spectatorship? There’s something potent in the gesture, sure, but I’m wondering if the frame risks flattening the experience into symbolism. Like, does the performance open anything up, or does it seal itself off..literally and metaphorically? I’m not doubting the sincerity, but I’m wondering: is it possible that representing the violence in this way might reinscribe it, especially in a space that can’t replicate the conditions or the consequences?
Massillon replies to Claiborne with a lengthy response. This excerpt dilates the portal Carpenter and Massillon are pulling open:
…The performance is less about representation and more about confrontation.…I don’t want the audience to mistake the performance for the experience of incarceration. I want them to feel the limits of their ability to fully understand it, and to sit with that discomfort…My hope is that…they begin to ask harder questions…“why does this exist?” and “what does it mean that I can leave this space and others cannot?”…maybe it opens a space for action, not just reflection.
& this response is enough to slate against any more viewer tensions; settling them quite cozily with an answer that both states and inquires without coming to any conclusion—→ merely an invitation to be bothered and activated to do something beyond a liberal Canva repost on IG. An expound beyond this, is an academic situationship bound for a rigid cut off, due to misaligned perspectival outcomes.
My grievances are biased: the halt at imprisonment ruffles my feathers. Apart of my thinking centers revenge and vengeance; personifying white mythic projections like negroes, blacks, ravishers, barbarians, killers, and thieves—- instigating these “things” through Dr. Frankensteining sculptural and written articulations—> deviously wreaking havoc on those who have oppressed my mind, body, and spirit. My psyche seeks to infiltrate these white-and-patriarchal-and-economic-and-religious systems of domination in an act of retroactive and proactive vengeance.
Already Been Done 2 U are meant to be flung like someone beating their opp with a sack of oranges; or whatever Huey P. Newton said, “In Defense of Self-Defense” (1967).
Not only am I a proponent for self-defense, I am also a proponent of retro-active self-defense as the psyche gradually comes to the realization that it has been abused (via @sunimullen)
The disposition of Cell 72 reminds me of a piece that still agitates my brain often, by performance artist, Carlos Martiel, Cuerpo (2022).
I discussed (listen & read) this work with a contemporary of mine, Jerekre Okoriogha— whom engaged me with a series of questions to consider after I shared this work with the BLK GENIUS cohort—→ ultimately, I surrendered to each story being necessary, as it already exists despite any feelings I may have towards it; still, this does not rid me of having questions. I messaged Martiel on Instagram and was left on read with all of my typos.
Mostly, people are approaching an artists’ work like a feast; they may eat it all, just the sides, only the meat, toss the plate upside down in the trash, or get up and leave the table—- your only commitment as the artist is to make the feast, the shit you like to eat: you cannot control how people devour or nibble. & why would you want to?
Generally, it is imperative to simply do the thing despite. There is no time to ask for permission———————— when it comes to niggas, I believe that trespassing boundaries is essential when you notice complacent minds—->: the prison industrial complex is heavily narrated through the world of Carpenter and Massillon—-<> inviting viewers through black spectacle and black ode; seriously and comedically, conceivably facetious.
My advocacy for experimentation does not allow me to confer with Hayne’s “this ain’t it”—-> it does allow me however, to sit and consider the implications of perpetuating the very thing that shackles many black men and women throughout America. To critically engage, I have to take myself out the “what I would do” and lean into what is being done—> 15% of the exhibition sales will be donated to the DC prison reform organization in addition to the Feltham Prison and Young Offender Institution (HMP Feltham). The Cost of Confinement stamps itself as a reality to be reckoned with storming Northwest London. The British played a major role in the origin of the transatlantic slave trade; so, to backpack a facet of these systemic horrors back to a geographic inception site that then tragically blossomed in Northern America is hefty. A very much, “Look what you niggas did. I am here to show you what never crosses your mind, but crosses mine daily.” Despite The Slave Trade Act of 1807 abolishing the slave trade and banning the British, the rhetoric and methods had already metastasized abroad with time; chattel slavery evoluting into the encampment of niggas into the prison cell.
These implications gather me quickly and cause me to reconsider the phrase, “to raise awareness.”
Using IG to its full potential, I reached out to Oji Haynes fully prepared to be left on read.
I got hella paragraphs back.
I shared my email and was forwarded a strong opinion which I respect him for openly sharing with me. I am pulling some excerpts that encapsulate not only his frustration, but the age old question that is consistently posited onto artists who are black: “who is this for?”
And respectfully, we need to start calling shit for what it is…there are always ways to go about speaking or making work about it [incarceration] without trying to gain some sort of radical aesthetician recognition.
…and why do London based people need this sort of “experience”..This is a field that white people have controlled and will continue to control for far beyond our years, there’s just no changing it.
…with this he has now snuck in the romanticizing and aesthetics of prison in modern day black culture. And you can see that with the post that he shared around the exhibition, in the images, the music choice, the caption… “keep it 100 never 50, if you don’t see me before i’m locked down don’t say you miss me”……
What are we talking about rn…they gonna beat him too, make him strip butt ass naked and search every inch of his body, have him go thru the awful social economics in prison, give him an hour of sunlight, 30 mins to talk to his family, give him food that he can’t eat cuz the nigga is vegan?????
I really do wish these two artist the best tho. I respect them and their work…i know for a fact they would be in utter shock if this was their position fr… And i pray that never happens to them.
These sentiments, similar to Claiborne’s, with more “WTHelly’s” are begging the same questions: they want to know why, just: why?
Haynes mentions, “…Allen has a true aesthetic[,] at this point as being dark[-] modern[-] black[-] media[-] and[-] music.” With this acknowledgement, the aesthetic framework and installation for this endurance piece is in alignment with Carpenter. If apart of their vision if to destabilize the comfort of those who are unaware, or practice a refusal to knowing, foolishly ignoring the ramifications of privatized prisons and their psychocologcal affect not only on those imprisoned, but to their family and friends as well to urge some sort of action—- the moral apathy Hayne’s holds for these systems is also a valid perspective but can be justifiably challenged with a Huey P. Newton excerpt from In Defense of Self Defense:
"The oppressor must be harassed until his doom. He must have no peace by day or by night.”
I refuse to dick suck or hype shit up just cuz it’s being placed in a white led gallery space.
Despite having numerous white-cube write-ups, I do not consider Harlesden High Street as a conceptually “white cube” gallery space even if the space is currently painted white with LED lights beaming from above. Haynes is adamant in his gassed rant——> I meditate with these questions as statements to ponder, “to make, or not to make,” “to do, or not to do.”
When delving into the literature and demographic data of those incarcerated and the active Black men and women this affects, each and every one of us would (& do), activate ourselves differently—→ that is the eco system; we provide, take, and produce what we believe highlights complex problems; to strategize what types of swords need to be pulled. Based upon our skillsets, we are not all drawing the same sword—-
friction!!! may ensue.
Many things can be true at once: 1 for sure, 2 for certain.
Emmanuel Massillon and Allen-Golder Carpenter
Cell 72: The Cost of Confinement | RSVP
London Gallery Weekend Performance: 6-8th June 2025 12am-12am (72 hours)
You hit it on the head when you said, "I surrendered to each story being necessary, as it already exists despite any feelings I may have towards it; still, this does not rid me of having questions." Love this piece as a whole bro. Can't wait to see what else you have to say
we should all stop, look, and listen when niggaz make art.