My family and friends have dubbed me the “Collecting Queen,” a title that I admit is well deserved. I have been amassing collections of whatnots since I was a young girl, from everything resembling a butterfly to stamps from around the world. As an adult, my collections became a bit more meaningful (at least that’s what I thought). A lover of tea, I started collecting ceramic teapots. Surely, the tea would be tastier served in these delightfully decorated vessels. Although they did add to the ambience of teatime, they also contributed significantly to my unintentional collection of dust. And then I discovered the world of Black dolls. How could one go wrong with a collection of beautiful porcelain dolls with their penetrating eyes and woeful expressions? To my surprise, they seemed to multiply while I was sleeping and soon occupied every curio cabinet, free floor space and shelf in the house. When my children were certain that the dolls’ eyes were following them, my dolls became yet another collection that got packed away.
The one collection that remains prominent in my home today is my collection of African-American artwork. Quickly, I discovered that each of these pieces that I selected was a reflection of my personal experiences. For me, my collection serves as a visual testament that speaks to the core of who I am. These pieces of artwork are my daily affirmation of both my struggles and successes. When I look at the painting Day’s Wages by artist Harry Roseland, I am reminded of the sacrifices that my parents made to ensure a better life for me and my siblings, and my willingness to do the same for my own children. Hanging in my kitchen is the painting Strawberries by artist Brenda Joysmith. Each time I look at it, I see myself as a little girl helping my mother get fresh fruit ready to be placed in mason jars so it could be enjoyed by our family during the cold days of winter. I laugh out loud when I look at the painting The Brothers by artist Malvin Gray Johnson because it takes me back to summer vacations on a farm in Virginia where my parents were born and raised. There were two brothers that we played with when we visited each summer. They always wore coveralls and some type of cap on their heads. Whenever we took photographs of them, they always smiled broadly and gave each other a tight, arm-over-shoulder hug. On days when I convince myself that the daily grind is for naught, I have but to look at Ruth Russell Williams’ painting The Graduation, and suddenly, I find myself seated at the commencement exercises of one of my children, dressed in my finest outfit, waiting for my turn to say, “That’s my baby.”
Each and every painting in my collection serves as an inspiration when I find myself in a rut, motivation when I am sure I cannot go one step further, and that which keeps me grounded when I forget the tribulations of those who paved the path upon which I walk so
freely today.
Yes, I am still the “Collecting Queen,” but to that title I now add “with a purpose.” I am proud of my collection of African-American artwork and proclaim my admiration and gratitude for the extremely talented artists who’ve given me something meaningful to collect.
Sharon Cannon
Administrator, Cheyney University
Cheyney, PA
Posted By: October Gallery
Monday, April 12th 2010 at 9:04AM
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