At the garden: black art, displacement, and what seattle refuses to learn
Seattle loves to claim black art as part of its progressive image, but rarely makes room for it to take root. At the garden, a six-day exhibition at Taswira Gallery was a rare counterexample: curated by Nathan Abia Lawer-Yolar and the Arrived Collective team in partnership with Taswira, the show brought together black artists from across disciplines, transforming a Pioneer Square gallery into a temporary commons. On its own, that might sound like progress. But look more closely, and the garden reveals deeper fault lines in Seattle’s cultural and political landscape.
From showcase to system: what’s at stake
Start with the work itself. pieces like Elissa Gibson’s “Country Roots”—a cowboy hat crafted from black hair reclaimed black aesthetics from decades of policing and ridicule. They demanded the audience reckon with whose stories get centered, and whose are sidelined. Ashley Robinson’s “Seeded Corset,” studded with over 60,000 mustard seeds, offered a meditation on endurance and spiritual inheritance, reminding viewers that black women’s creative labor is too often reduced to spectacle, rarely granted lasting infrastructure.
The exhibition’s format, which included live music, artist talks, and film screenings, did more than just fill the space. It fostered an atmosphere of community and collaboration, highlighting what can flourish when black artists are given room to connect, not just perform. That sense of shared presence stands in stark contrast to the isolation produced by underfunding and tokenism in Seattle’s mainstream arts scene, where black creativity is often showcased for a season, then left unsupported.
Structural reality: scarcity by design
The rarity of “At the garden” speaks volumes. black-owned and black-led art spaces in Seattle are exceptionally rare. Taswira Gallery, one of the city’s only black woman-owned galleries, stands as an exception, not the rule. For all the city’s talk of inclusion, less than three percent of Seattle’s arts funding in 2023 went to black-led organizations, a figure reported by the Seattle Arts Commission. Most funding remains locked up in legacy institutions, and even well-meaning efforts at representation often become annual token slots. Think of the typical “black voices month” at major galleries, where blackness is showcased for a moment, then set aside.
It's an art issue, yes, but it mirrors what’s happening in the central district and beyond, where development and rezoning have systematically displaced black communities. Seattle will throw a gala for black artists, but rarely invests in long-term studios or venues. Art spaces, like neighborhoods, don’t “revitalize” without real investment; they risk becoming little more than backdrops for someone else’s narrative.
Other models, harder questions
It doesn’t have to be this way. Cities like Chicago (Rebuild Foundation), Detroit (Museum of African American History), and Oakland (BLACspace Cooperative) have all invested in black arts infrastructure, not just events. They’ve made room for permanence as well as performance, showing what’s possible when policy aligns with equity.
Yes, real estate costs and limited grants are challenges everywhere. But the real question is who this city is willing to nourish and who it’s content to let struggle.
What now? Three moves Seattle could make
Fund black arts infrastructure, not just one-off shows. Dedicate a portion of public arts funding specifically for black and POC-led organizations, with support for long-term leases and ownership, not just programming.
support permanence over performance. Prioritize investments in black-owned galleries, studios, and community venues, rather than relying on pop-ups or annual “heritage” months.
show up differently. For readers, attending a black-run show is a start. But so is asking institutions how they spend their budgets and demanding transparency and accountability on where that money goes.
At the garden was an incredible exhibition of black art. It was a demonstration of what’s possible when black creativity is allowed to function as a root system, anchoring not just a show, but a living, connected ecosystem that supports growth for all. If Seattle wants black art to be more than ornamental, it has to build and sustain the soil that lets those roots deepen and spread.
The city’s future depends on whether it will just display black art or let it reshape the ground beneath our feet.