Simone Leigh
Strong features, woven hair, raffia skirts and at times an absence of a particular feature, Simone Leigh’s sculptures have a power to them that draws you in and a beauty that causes you to linger. All that exists within her work is exquisite; however, it is what is absent that has consumed my attention ever since seeing her solo exhibit at the Guggenheim and her work within the Whitney Biennial. Where were the eyes on the faces of her sculptures?
In the weeks and months that have passed since visiting New York to see her work, my fascination with her eyes or lack thereof has evolved. At first I sought to understand why she had chosen this omission. Could Seph Rodney have been right when he deduced that ‘the lack of eyes proved that the piece did not care about the viewer nor did it want to connect?’ For some reason, that just did not ring true to me or at least did not line up with how I had experienced her work.
So I kept digging. In an interview with CBS, Simone Leigh stated clearly and rather nonchalantly: “I never have defined the eye as I’m never really representing any particular person, so I just stay on this side of abstraction.” Here was the artist answering the question I thought I had had, and yet I found myself disappointed… I wanted more.
It was at that point that I started to ask what Simon Leigh’s pieces were bringing up in me… What needed a new perspective and healing?
All my life, I was taught the power of eye contact—its ability to connect, to show respect, to reassure someone that you were with them and they with you. I have been the dorky girl who tripped off a curb because a cute guy caught my eye, and I always prefer to see someone in person so I can look into their eyes to better understand where they are coming from.
Eight and a half years ago, eye contact took on a new meaning for me as my little boy struggled to engage in the world. As I watched my friends’ babies stare at them adoringly for what seemed like hours, my Mac seemed to find it excruciatingly difficult to look even his favorite person in the eyes for more than a second… I found myself wondering then just as I did with Simone Leigh’s work—what is one left to connect with when “the gateway to the soul” seems closed or nonexistent?
As we worked tirelessly to meet Mac where he was, to find what he was passionate about, and to encourage him to allow us to join his world and entice him to ours, he came alive. As he did, he began to look to us to share a moment, to catch our eye even if only fleetingly. At first these moments were rare and far between, and slowly they have become more and more. Yet, it was still hard… for him, for us, for people who might think he was just rude or that he didn’t care.
And while I helped Mac engage, I also had some rewiring of myself and my expectations which needed to take place. With him, I had to learn to enter connection in another way… to look for a slight mischievous smile as proof of shared delight, to notice his body language and be mindful for clues that he was overwhelmed and shutting down. For me, I had to stop constantly looking to others for reassurance, to let go of how I thought things should be, and meet life as it was. Some days we did beautifully, some days I was a wreck and he was amazing, other days I got the opportunity to learn to be okay even when a person I loved was not. We have both come a long way. For us, the gates have begun to open… to take in and reach out. Yet, even if they had not, that did not mean that my little boy did not care or long to connect and be understood. We all do.
To me, the women in Simone Leigh’s work do not read dismissive or detached. Instead, they have an air of benevolent wisdom and a knowingness that serves as a reminder that there are many gates and pathways which can unite us.
What is one left to connect with when “the gateway to the soul” seems closed or nonexistent? A lot, it turns out, if you are willing to enter connection in another way.