Brick Rack

Anonymous

Excerpted commentary from researcher Stephanie Gibson:

As the world grapples with how to deconstruct systems of oppression that have existed for centuries, a grassroots art installation popped up outside of Minneapolis’ third precinct, the birthplace of the global protests calling for justice for deaths of unarmed Black people, including George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, at the hands of American police. Bricks from the now-destroyed AutoZone were salvaged and installed on a rack to form an interactive work of art called Brick Rack. While both Brick Rack and South Africa’s Constitutional Court use bricks salvaged from architectural structures, any similarities end there.

As an interactive work that celebrates the community occupation of the third precinct, Brick Rack challenges systems of oppression and amplifies the voices of the marginalized. Unlike South Africa’s Constitutional Court, Brick Rack does not salvage the bricks from a ruined building in order to redeploy them in a way that ultimately reinforces power structures. The work allows the ruin to speak. It does not attempt to create new meaning out of the salvaged bricks but instead, as an interactive work that celebrates the community occupation of the third precinct, Brick Rack challenges systems of oppression and amplifies Black voices. In doing so, Brick Rack highlights the injustices perpetrated by the police and the systems of oppression that allow injustice to continue. The work magnifies the voices of the community and points our attention towards the systems that need to be dismantled.

(Stephanie Gibson, “Ruins Repurposed: Building Monuments, Dismantling Systems”)

The 26th of May, or the 8th of Prairial

By Duncan Riley

Like a gathering tide the crowd flowed down the asphalt,

Its edges lapping against the banks of that concrete jungle,

Until suddenly it crashed up against that black rock, spurting flame,

A great chain of humanity, like a line of sulfur, awaiting a spark,

Until a great torch, spurting smoke, whirled through the air,

And a millennia’s worth of grievances burst against the wind.

 

Stones whistled; glass shattered,

Batons fell; bones broke,

Angry words took wing from tired voices,

Only to be chased off by bullets,

A haze of gas hid a thousand crimes,

And we know from which side all these crimes derived.

 

Some will talk of property,

Others of law and order,

Some will speak of peace,

And others of disorder,

All I can ask of you is,

“When a storm has been gathering for five hundred years,

Can you really fault the lightning?”

 

I don’t know whose fault it was, who started this,

Whether to blame those men like ghouls in their helmets and their armor,

Or to hurl my rage at men in suits, now safe abed, far from the clash of arms,

I don’t know where this world of horror began, nor where it will end.

 

All I know is that when I see a boot crushing a human being,

I will side with the human being, not the boot.


Originally published at Adelante Revolucionaria

5/27/2020