Aljira: Time for More Dreams

On this website, as should be abundantly clear, we try to shine the light on everything positive within our city the best way we can. More times than not, with our limited resources, we wish we could do more to shine that light as luminously as possible. Quite simply, we want to give the subject its just due.

Then there is Aljira, A Center for Contemporary Art. The thing is, how do you shine a light on a beacon - a beacon that has been steady in its bedrock for the past 30 years, at the height of urban decay and now within its resurgence?

Founded in the spirit of social activism and resistance, the gallery (a name that doesn't seem diasporic or holistic enough) is currently celebrating its 30th year in its road toward, as it mission states, fostering cultural excellence in the arts. In 1983, on the top floor of an unglamorous building on Orange Street, Victor Davson and Carl Hazlewood created Aljira, giving it the Aboriginal name that means "dream time." As Mr. Davson noted, the artists wanted the visiting public to be "lost in the experience, when you enter the space - in its creativity."

The original group was attracted to Newark because of not only its scale, but also because of the community of activists that were reacting against the negative images of the urban landscape with its density of Black and Brown people. Those founding artists sought to counter the "undesirable" destination with a creative intervention and to source opportunities for emerging young artists and the underrepresented elders of a downcast art scene. It wasn't Manhattan or Brooklyn. They were artists looking for affordable work space, ultimately incorporating a non-profit gallery and raising funding.

Along with Mr. Davson and Mr. Hazlewood, the original crew of artists included Rafael Sanchez, Fausto Sevila, Cicely Cottingham, and Florence Weisz, and their big break came in 1988. Not only did the year include a move "downtown" to 2 Washington Place, but the seminal event of being reviewed in the New York Times for the first time also occurred. Containing Black and Latin artists, the paper remarked at how much better the gallery was in comparison to institutions of much larger scale, including the Montclair Museum.

2002 saw the gallery relocate for a final time to the current location at 591 Broad Street, hosting its grand opening in January of 2003. For more than 10 years, Mr. Davson and his team have poured blood, sweat, tears, money, and artistic (and commercial) paint into the property. I could wax poetic and even wanted to dig into the rich history of accolades and the myriad of shows that have taken place, in the gallery's different stages.

But I just couldn't do it.

See, the gallery is not about lists. It is not an obituary. It is a rhythm that is alive and well, breathing life into the artists that are at its core and engrained in its mission. Aljira was, is, and will remain to be an institution of experiences. Experiences that are live and in color, and command an interaction of your senses.

Those walls are made for talking. They serve as inorganic griots of our culture and heritage as a city. We could talk about the exhibits, or even try to ask Mr. Davson which is or has been his favorite (Frank Bowling, if you prod him for an answer). We could list the awards, honors, and recognitions. We could. We could. We can. We can. We will. We will, because they did.

So, instead we will predict its bright future. First up, on view from March 29th (opening reception on the 30th) until September 28th, The New Jersey State Museum will honor Aljira with a retrospective that seeks to encompass its impact over the last 30 years. But beyond, I would implore you to visit the space, interact with the exhibits, and get to know Victor and the entire team, with the rich history.

I am honored that as we lay claim to this community at this very time, this institution has begged me to dream. And dream we have.