#art hoe collective | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusstadt · 2 years ago

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Pretend it’s about 2014 or 2015. Pharrell’s “Happy” is inescapable, and every background song in a YouTube video sounds like a variation of "Fantasy” by Alina Baraz.

You are a young teenager of color who uses Tumblr, that one social media site that isn’t Instagram or Twitter. As you scroll through your dashboard of Lana Del Rey screenshots, greyscale images of skinny white girls in thigh high socks, and other relatable depression memes, you come across something out-of-the-ordinary: a selfie superimposed against classical art works (Sargent 2015). You click on the username of the original poster and see the hashtag #arthoe, two simple words that will lead you down a rabbit hole of self-love, artistic expression, and shameless diversity.

Welcome to VENUSSTADT, a channel devoted to discussing gender equality and women in the realm of arts and culture. Today, I am covering the Art Hoe movement—not the fad internet aesthetic, but the substantial social media-based movement that focused on uplifting marginalized groups in traditional art spaces.

BACKGROUND

To understand why the Art Hoe movement was a big deal at the time, you need to know a bit about art and social media history, especially that of Tumblr.com.

What is and what isn’t art has always subjective. People of color, at least within the context of the Western art canon, have had their creations routinely excluded as “art” by a subjectivity rooted in white supremacy; likewise, white women or poor white people have been excluded due to misogyny or classism. Those works by people of color that were regarded as art were often stripped from their regions of origins due to violence.

As for Tumblr, the website pre-2014 was known as a hub for alternative communities (*think hipsters and rehashed grunge) and a space for significant fandom exchange, both of which focused heavily on whiteness. This was a bit ironic, considering Tumblr users were more likely to be of Black or Latine origin (Calhoun 49).

One center of diversity in Tumblr’s white sea was Black Tumblr—which was just as it sounds, black Tumblr users. Black Tumblr was arguably an important stepstone in the development of online activism into what we now know it as, and on that platform black Tumblr users were participating in what sociocultural linguist Kendra Calhoun calls “everyday activism,” or “the sharing of personal stories [and perspectives] in public spaces with the aim of challenging the status quo through ‘erosive social change’” (Calhoun 50). Calhoun specifically acknowledges that Black Tumblr accomplished everyday activism by challenging negative ideas about and promoting positive representations of black people (Calhoun 48). It’s against this social justice-based backdrop that the Art Hoe movement would first emerge.

#ARTHOE

The movement was started by Tumblr users Mars and Jam. Mars, who is genderfluid, was notably about 15 at the time. The term “art hoe,” had been coined by rapper Babeo Baggins in the caption of a viral Tumblr selfie (2jam4u 2015). Sometime later, Mars created the Art Hoe movement’s iconic selfie style. Jam saw the selfie, approached them, and the two discussed how selfies could be used to change public perceptions and, according to Jam, “create a possible outlet to shatter gender, class, and race ceilings” by reclaiming and promoting one’s own image (2jam4u 2015). The term “art hoe” matched this perfectly, in that it was a reclamation of the AAVE term for “whore,” which Jam said was “used a pernicious tactic to diminish the worth of women, especially black women” (Strehkle 2015).

“[People of color] and specifically black women have historically been excluded from the art world or simply used as hyper-sexual muses whether it be in music, paintings, photographs, etc.” Jam told Buzzfeed in 2015 (2jam4u 2015). “I think right now, with this movement, we’ve spoken up and said, ‘I have autonomy over my representation and I’m going to use that to shine a light on how [people of color] have been excluded or made into tropes in art as a whole.’”

Thus, “art hoe” became a hashtag where fellow Tumblr users—specifically women and gender nonconforming people of color—were encouraged to share selfies, art, and other multimedia materials. With this hashtag, these users carved out a space for themselves both in the art realm and on a social media platform where they were overlooked. In short, it became a movement to uplift black and brown queer artists. Mars’ goal for the movement was for it to be a revolution of “social awareness and self-confidence” (2jam4u 2015), while Jam’s was for it to become a “representation of self-love/acceptance” (2jam4u 2015).

The movement, as Nell Frizell hints at in a 2015 Guardian article, was a mix of the academic and the adolescent. Participating users discussed how institutionalized racism, sexism, and homophobia affected their lives as teenagers—aka, Calhoun’s “everyday activism” (Calhoun 2020).

The art hoe tag hosted original works such as paintings, drawing, poetry, and photography. But the calling card of the Art Hoe was definitely the selfie, which usually included drawings or magic wand cut outs of the subject against paintings by Claude Monet, Vincent Van Gogh and others. These selfies functioned as a way to “raise questions about the historical representation of people of color in art” (Sargent 2015).

This might seem frivolous today since selfies have become an accepted part of the social media landscape, but back in the early 10s it was maligned as the height of millennial self-obsession. Though selfies were technically a form of photography, it seemed like its sheer accessibility disqualified it as art. The perceived vanity of the selfie was often pinned on young women, as explained by S.E. Smith in a 2015 Guardian article (Smith 2015):

“It’s telling that because the selfie is often such a female endeavor, it’s treated as a lesser art form. Women taking pictures of themselves are vapid, vain, and ridiculous. Women documenting their own lives aren’t contributing anything valuable to the larger world of art. And those who read as women and treated as women are gathered under that umbrella too—we’re not supposed to talk about our lives and express our nature, because don’t we know we’re boring and no one cares?”

Against a milieu of the anti-selfie, these artistic selfies functioned as a way for self-proclaimed art hoes to express themselves amid a culture that treated them as laughing stocks.

CO-OPTATION

As you can observe, the art hoe movement served as an inclusive community with no entry fee. Just post a selfie or share your artwork in the tag, and you were a part of a community that embraced self-love, diversity, and creativity.

Unfortunately, this easy entry made the movement ripe for co-optation. As the art hoe hashtag became more well-known across the platform, white Tumblr users started to use the tag as well. This wasn’t bad in and of itself; however, thanks to the tendency to strip movements down to their basic, commodifiable parts, as well as the way info floats across the internet without proper sources, the Art Hoe tag soon became known for white and light-skinned thin women in quirky sweaters with trendy backpacks. This is the “art hoe aesthetic” you see now when you go on Pinterest or Google the movement.

Scholar Maria Stratigaki defines co-optation as the process by which “the concept itself is not rejected, but its initial meaning is transformed and used…for a different purpose than the original one” (de Jong and Kimm 2017, 187).

Speaking from a feminist point of view, Sara de Jong and Susanne Kimm point out how certain activist principles are co-opted into problematic structures to the dismay of the activists themselves: “Feminist scholars who are often simultaneously advocates and activists in particular fields…witness with dismay how what they have lauded as achievements of their struggles are transformed into an ‘uncanny double that [they] can neither simply embrace nor wholly disavow’” (de Jong and Kimm 2017, 186).

I’m sure you have also witness co-optation before, whether it be the feminist movement, #BlackLivesMatter’s shift from grassroots movement to non-profit organization misappropriating funds, or how terms like “woke” and “cancel” were stolen from Black folks on the internet.

In this case, these white Tumblr users took over the “art hoe” label for a quick aesthetic fix before moving on to the next new thing, erasing the movement’s original context in the process. Though the Art Hoe movement’s co-optation wasn’t as grand as the previous three examples, it was still disappointing, especially for a website that prided itself on how progressive it was compared to other platforms.

As one can imagine, the original art hoe participants were not at all happy about their tag being spammed with these irrelevant, consumerist images of white women. But any attempts to speak out against this were often met with the racist handwaving they had been fighting against in the first place.

“People tried to use the ‘angry black person’ stereotype when I called them out on it, telling me it wasn’t a big deal. But it felt like a big deal. People of color are often denied artistic ability, or the things we birth to the world are stolen by white counterparts. I never intended Art Hoe to be the way” (Frizell 2015).

ART HOE COLLECTIVE

To re-reclaim the Art Hoe label and distance themselves from the watered-down aesthetic, the movement shifted from a simple hashtag to an Instagram account. The Art Hoe Collective was born. The collective maintained the same goals as the original hashtag, except now the collective took submissions via email (Galore Girl 2017). The result was a more streamlined, centralized internet movement.

As the Collective grew, so did its recognitions and ambitions. It received press from multiple established news sources, such as Teen Vogue, Huffington Post and Vice, and came third in Dazed100 Artists list in 2016. The group even attracted celebrities Amandla Stenberg and Willow Smith into their fold (Frizzell 2015; Strehlke 2015).

By March 2016, the collective had hosted two in-person meetups in New York City and D.C., with plans to host more (Chiu 2016). Curators also expressed a desire to have a physical venue akin to New York’s Teen Art Salon, where members could create art together (Chiu 2016). By 2018, there had been meetups at festivals like Art Basel and Afropunk, and professional development panels and workshops (Dix 2018). They also offered microgrants for artists in needed funding in 2020.

And that is where the basic history of the Art Hoe movement seems to end. The collective’s Tumblr and Twitter pages ceased operation in 2016, and the latest post on the Instagram page was created April 6, 2021. The Instagram page was also deleted in August for reasons I will get to later.

LEGACY

Despite being obscured by the so-called art hoe aesthetic due to people attempting to overcorrect and credit the Kanken backpack craze to Mars, the Art Hoe Collective’s artistic and digital legacy is amazing. Ultimately, the movement gave many marginalized people a platform for self-acceptance and creativity, just as its founders intended.

The collective was many artists’ first foray into the world of art and curation, as mentioned by academic Ashleigh G. Wade (Wade 2021). Aside from bypassing the gatekeeping of traditional art spaces, the Collective “made it easier for artists to encourage and support each other while potentially building professional networks outside the confines of formal cultural institutions” (Wade 2021, 26). In sum, the Art Hoe Collective provided invaluable artistic experience for the young people of color it took into its fold.

The Art Hoe Movement, of course, also had the unintentional effect of spawning the co-opted “art hoe” aesthetic, which would later be rehashed as the VSCO girl, which I view as one of the first major modern internet aesthetics. From there we would get things like Plant Mom and Cottagecore, which would spawn several other aesthetics ending in -core, but that’s honestly an entire article or video topic in and of itself.

If you’re familiar with Black artists online or just up on your Internet history, you might already recognize many of the people who used to be involved with the Art Hoe Collective. For example, through their work as curator for Art Hoe Collective, Brooklyn artist Sage Adams (@sageaflocka) became a creative director for notorious former Tumblr girl SZA (Dwyer 2019). Fellow curator Jheyda McGarrell (@jheydamc) founded the Black Image Center, which provides resources like equipment and mentorship to Black photographers (Gevinson 2020). Other people formerly associated with the Art Hoe Movement and Collective include model Aaron Phillips (Pauly 2020), model Gabrielle Richardson (Dix 2018), and designer Rian Phin (Frizzell 2015).

As for the founders, Jam’s last Tumblr post was in March 2022, but they are still active on TikTok making videos about their experiences with autism. Mars in 2021 photographed SZA and had their worked featured in Baltimore’s Waller Gallery for a showcase highlighted queer Haitian artists in September of that same year. They continue to post their photography on Instagram (@mtrainhottie).

As I was researching and writing the script for this video, some new info emerged about the collective’s later years from Mars on their Instagram account. Because this new info is super sensitive and complex, I’m choosing not to cover it in this video, especially since I was unable to get into contact with those involved. Mars’ IG post is linked in the description of this video, and if you search “art hoe movement” or “art hoe collective” on Twitter, I’m sure you can still find commentary on the relevant info.

An unfortunate casualty of this new situation has been the Art Hoe Collective’s official Instagram page, which was deleted between August 10 and August 21. I have also not received a response from the Art Hoe Collective’s email account as to why this decision was made.

This situation aside, the Art Hoe Collective ultimately did have a profound effect on social media, especially young black and brown artistic teens, during its heyday. It helped young people share their artwork and have their experiences platformed at a time where marginalized people were ignored on the internet. To me, it’s rather unfortunately that the whole thing ended the way it did and that, for whatever reason, the decision was made to delete the IG account entirely, since it was one of very few reliable resources to learn about the collective.

SOURCES

2jam4u. 2015. “How ironic is it that in an interview about a movement that’s all about radical, uncensored self-representation our message was wildly diluted (and in our opinion, made to look vain and superficial)...” Tumblr, August 26, 2015. https://2jam4u.tumblr.com/post/127667045382/how-ironic-is-it-that-in-an-interview-about-a.

Calhoun, Kendra. 2020. “Blackout, Black Excellence, Black Power: Strategies of Everyday Online Activism on Black Tumblr.” In a Tumblr Book: Platforms and Cultures, edited by Allison McCraken, 48–62. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Chiu, Victoria. 2016. “Disassembling the Gallery: An Interview with the Art Hoe Collective.” The Awl, March 11, 2016. https://www.theawl.com/2016/03/disassembling-the-gallery-an-interview-with-the-art-hoe-collective/.

Dazed. 2016. “Art Hoe Collective.” Dazed 100. Accessed August 21, 2022. https://www.dazeddigital.com/projects/article/29584/1/art-hoe-collective.

de Jong, Sara, and Susanne Kimm. 2017. “The co-optation of feminism: a research agenda.” International Feminist Journal of Politics 19 (2): 185–200. https://doi.org/10.1080/14616742.2017.1299582.

Dix, Peyton. 2018. “PAPER People: Art Hoe Collective.” Paper, September 4, 2018. https://www.papermag.com/paper-people-art-hoe-collective-2600815031.html?rebelltitem=3#rebelltitem3.

Dwyer, Kate. 2019. “Sage Adams, a Creative Force Behind SZA.” The New York Times, May 10, 2019. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/10/style/sage-adams-sza.html,

Escalante, Shante. 2020. “From Tumblr to The Twilight Zone: Meet Artist and Curator Anajah Hamilton.” Interview, June 23, 2020. https://www.interviewmagazine.com/culture/anajah-hamilton.

Frizzell, Nell. 2015. “#Arthoe: the teens who kickstarted a feminist art movement.” The Guardian, August 19, 2015. https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/aug/19/arthoe-teens-kickstart-feminist-art-movement-instagram-tumblr.

Galore Girl. 2017. “The Founders of Art Collective are Sick of Being Muses.” Galore, January 8, 2017. https://galoremag.com/founders-art-hoe-collective-sick-being-muses/.

Gevinson, Tavi. 2020. “Jheyda McGarrell Is Taking the Future Into Their Own Hands.” Garage, July 24, 2020. https://garage.vice.com/en_us/article/ep453j/jheyda-mcgarrell-is-taking-the-future-in-their-hands.

Pauly, Alexander. 2020. “Art Hoe Collective Launches Micro Grants for Black Trans Women.” Hypebae, June 23, 2020. https://hypebae.com/2020/6/art-hoe-collective-micro-grants-black-trans-women-artists-aaron-philip-initiative-announcement-apply.

Sargent, Antwaun. 2015. “Can the ‘Art Hoe’ Movement Change Contemporary Art?” Vice, September 12, 2015. https://www.vice.com/en/article/aennx8/can-the-art-hoe-movement-change-contemporary-art.

Smith, S. E. 2015. “Why we hate selfies so much.” The Guardian, February 5, 2015. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/feb/05/selfies-sexism-women.

Strehlke, Sade. 2015. “Here’s Why Amandla Stenberg and Willow Smith Have Joined the Art Hoe Movement.” Teen Vogue, September 14, 2015. https://www.teenvogue.com/gallery/art-hoe-movement-amandla-stenberg-willow-smith.

Wade, Ashleigh G. 2021. “Radical Curation: Making Space for Black Childhood(s) in the Art Hoe Collective.” Visual Arts Research 47, no. 1 (Summer): 13–28. https://muse.jhu.edu/article/798429

#art hoe #art hoe collective #art hoe aesthetic #venusstadt

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