Roger Shimomura: What racists see

Born in Seattle, Shimomura's earliest memories come from Idaho's Camp Minidoka, one of the concentration camps built to detain Japanese Americans on the West Coast during World War II.

Released when he was 5 years old, he grew up watching his parents try to rebuild their lives. Even though since 1969 he has taught at the University of Kansas, he is, at least in Seattle, considered a Seattle artist, partly due to his wide circle of family and friends here and partly to his regular exhibits at the Greg Kucera Gallery.

Determined to flourish in a multicultural society, Shimomura likes the metaphor of a tossed-salad better than a melting pot. Nothing about him has melted, and that includes his memories.

Shimomura has a lifetime's worth of experience with racism in all its guises, from the bungling and insensitive to focused hatred. He collects its signs and symbols, including movie posters with luridly yellow-faced actors, Jap hunting licenses, slap-a-Jap cards, Jap dartboards, comics and grotesquely racist masks.

From 1941:

This is to certify that _________ IS ENTITLED TO HUNT THE JAPANESE RAT, and is hereby warned to exercise extreme caution in approaching this savage beast: it is a vicious animal and strikes from behind without warning. This animal has the characteristics of a skunk in appearance and odor but has an appetite for women and children instead of small fowls... In shooting this stinkin skunk, aim at its stomach, since it has lots of GUTS, but no heart or brains.

It's the kind of material his parents' generation shunned, but Shimomura agrees with African American painter Kara Walker, who uses racist stereotypes in her work in order to defuse them. As Ralph Ellison advised,

 Change the joke and slip the yoke.

(A Jap's a Jap, 2000, acrylic/canvas, 36 x 48 inches.)

Highlights from that collection are part of his exhibit at Wing Luke. He donated it to the museum, and his collection of internment diaries to the Smithsonian National Museum of American History.

Anyone reaching the comforting conclusion that the racism Shimomura explores is past will shed it when perusing selections from his series, Stereotypes and Admonitions, shown at Kucera in 2004 and in an abbreviated form at Wing Luke. Beside each painting was a note on its origin.

My favorite is not in the show:

In the 1990s, he walked into the administration building at the University of Kansas to sign in his friend, Edgar Heap-of-Birds, who was an artist in residence. An administrator peered out at them and said loudly to the receptionist, "I want you to check the IDs of those two characters out there." Both men were startled. "We looked at each other," said Shimomura. "What did he say? There's that moment of incredulity, where you can't believe what you just heard." In the painting, he's an old Japanese warrior and Heap-of-Birds is in full headdress.

Shimomura's work is deep-freeze end of art's attempt to grapple with racism. Compared to it, Robert Colescott is sweet and Fred Wilson heated. We know looking at a Colescott or Wilson where they stand. Even though Shimomura frequently paints himself into his narratives, he's rarely there.

Shimomura:

My emotions aren't in my paintings. I don't think people care about my emotions. Why would they? Painting allows me to approach this subject in a dispassionate way. It's almost like reporting. This is what is out there. It's dirty work, but I'm compelled to do it.

When he shows up in his work without feint or painful comedy, it's a shock. Below, Shimomura with his culturally-imposed shadow:

(Different Citizens, 2009, acrylic/canvas, 36 x 45 inches.)

Through April 18. Jen Graves' review here. Michael Upchurch feature here.