Truth and Time: The Paintings of Ulrick Jean-Pierre

Battle of Vertières by Ulrick Jean-Pierre. All images courtesy of the artist.

Creation of the Haitian Flag by Ulrick Jean-Pierre, All images courtesy of the artist.

To be graciously received by the McKenna Museum of African American Art in the heart of Central City is to enter a space which feels more like a home than a museum, permitting visitors an unusually intimate viewing experience. While each piece in the museum’s collection reflects the vibrancy of the African Diasporic experience in New Orleans, some of the most dynamic pieces can be found in its Haitian wing. The spectacular room is largely dominated by the work of Ulrick Jean Pierre, a Haitian artist who, though his subjects range widely, has devoted most of his career to the lost art of history painting.

Considered for centuries to be the pinnacle of artistic achievement by the European academy, history painting has long served as a powerful vehicle for collective memory. It is one thing to learn about the 1830 July Revolution in France, and it is quite another to stand before Eugène Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People and observe the filth of battle and the tenacity of the soldiers. That Ulrick Jean-Pierre has resurrected the genre in the midst of a contemporary artistic climate which explicitly favors abstraction over narrative is audacious, and it is all the more so when you consider his subject matter. For all of the impact the Haitian Revolution had on the Atlantic world, fear that it would inspire slave rebellions elsewhere meant that telling the story of the Haitian Revolution was in many cases a punishable offense. This may no longer be true, but even today few are willing to officially acknowledge Haiti’s decisive role in charting the course of world history. Ulrick Jean-Pierre’s work is a welcome corrective. The scale and vitality of his paintings put us directly into the fray, and with a single glance Haiti can no longer be dismissed.

Can you tell us about where you grew up and how you came to art?    

When it comes to the beginning of my artistic interest, I think it started very early; I started at the age of four. My older sister, she told me that I did not start when I was four, I started much earlier. She said I started when I was two, you know, and I was always sketching on the wall of my parents’ home. And of course they did not make a big deal out of it—they thought it was wonderful, and they told me to try to do the next one better. In a kind way, they went to go and find me paper, you know for me to sketch on. So I think my parents were the source of my early development and interest in expressing myself visually on paper.In elementary school I remember sketching and history. These things were the most important things to me, and I remember how much time that I put into my drawing. So when other, many kids were interested in football—what we call football is soccer—it was difficult to get me away from my pencil and my drawing pad. It was exciting, but as I was growing up I did not say to myself, ‘When I grow up I want to be an artist.” It was just something that came to me naturally, just like when you are thirsty and water is at your disposal and you just drink it without thinking. So for me, I mean it was the same thing when it came to expressing myself artistically. In Haiti, art is all around you. Wherever you go, I mean, you find art and people expressing themselves artistically. Whether it’s the sculptor sculpting, carving a piece of wood or rock or stone, there was always, you know, somebody doing something and expressing himself or herself into some work of art; for me it was the perfect environment. Painting, music, it’s all around you. Haiti is open, it is just like an open school and you don’t have you to make any effort to have exposure to artistic expression. So you could live here and your nextdoor neighbor is an artist and you can look at him or her expressing in his backyard or in his studio. They do not make a big deal of it. They would not say, “Oh why are you looking at me?” They don’t mind if you look a little bit. It’s just something that’s just natural. It is very free. 

So you were an artistic spy. (Laughter)

Yes, yes, yes, exactly. (Laughter)

But your paintings are awfully well rendered, so you must have had formal training.

 Well, it was when I was about 16 years old, you know, when I was in high school in Haiti, and then I was offered a scholarship at a prestigious school in Port-au-Prince. Of course I had to wait until I finished high school to start, but that school had another part to it where I used to go to my teacher’s home. I mean, so again, I was observing this artistic expression, but I didn’t begin with my real formal education until I was done with high school. Then I did my years at Foyers des Arts Plastiques. After, I migrated to Philadelphia, I was invited by a Haitian cultural association called Haitian Cultural Society. They invited me in collaboration with Drexel University. They wanted me to have a show.  When I was in Philadelphia, I went to what was formerly the Philadelphia College of Art. But my main training was at Foyers des Arts Plastiques, a prestigious art school in Haiti. 

Défilée LaFolle

Heroine Maroon Slave

What were the other students like? What was the culture of the school?When it comes to learning art in Haiti, what I find exciting, is that we have many models: we had models who came to class, who were invited to pose for the class as well as using people we were passing in the street or who were sitting some way that caught your eye. When you’ve got a person on his porch and then you’re sketching there, they do not even pay attention. Suddenly you have been in a part of life just like it is. It was very friendly, it was like a brotherhood, we did not have what you would call an internal competition, but the thing is that we as a group of young artists, we encouraged each other. We would get assignments where we would go as a group and paint things like Mardi Gras. We would paint a lot of subject matter that related to street festivities. Mardi Gras, Carnivale, Rara, which is like a second line. Rara is a street festival that is associated with the Vodou culture. It is very colorful, and people sing songs about politics, about the government. They sing songs accusing the government of not doing much for the people. They also just sing about their lives and lifestyle or whatever they witness. Always based on reality, not imaginative situations—always about real life— survival, politics, injustice. Whatever they think is important. 

Were many Haitian artists concerned with Haitian history and subject matter when you were coming up?

When I was growing up, learning Haitian history, for me, was very exciting. It is an exciting history to learn, because when you learn it, you become proud. To learn what it means to be Haitian. To have expelled the French. We were the second country after the United States to declare our independence. It makes you feel proud to be the product and son of that history.When I was learning that history, I wasn’t thinking that one day it would be manifested into my artwork. It was just a part of me. I grew up with learning it and feeling that sense of pride. As an artist, what you project when you are expressing yourself, if you are not copying someone or something you see, what you express is really a part of you. What is in your subconscious comes out. What you paint is just a mirror of who you are. Haiti’s history is a beautiful history. And it’s a beautiful culture. I feel very much a part of it. When I paint, that’s what comes out. But for it to come out, I had to have an interest. I love history in that it gives me a sense of who I am as a person, but also a sense of what we are in this world, not just Haitian, but all of us, people. Understanding the importance of cultural diversity, understanding how everyone contributes to history. We all bring something to it, make it special. That is what has really helped me to develop over the years and given me a sense of mission. Even though I left Haiti, I feel a sense of mission to share Haitian history. I don’t just create to create. For me it is essential to manifest and share with the rest of the world.

When did you decide to leave Haiti?

I left in 1977, but I went to Philadelphia. I came to New Orleans in the 90s. I was invited to show my work by galleries, and I built a relationship with the people in the community. They encouraged my work and commissioned me to continue working, mostly portraits of historical Haitian figures. From that I was encouraged to move to Louisiana permanently. But what really made me stay was the the evident cultural similarities between Haiti and New Orleans. In school, I had learned there was relationship between Haiti and Louisiana during the revolutionary period. But to see it was different. 

Crucified Liberty, Ulrick Jean-Pierre

Slave Uprising Ulrick Jean-Pierre

What is it about the Haitian Revolution makes it such a recurring theme in your work?I feel Haitian history has been marginalized in the silence of obscurity. It is only mentioned in the world history books in passing. But when it comes to the history of the Americas, Haiti is the cradle. If we talk about European history in the Americas, you have to talk about Haiti first. Haiti was the place where European culture was transplanted. Think of Christopher Columbus; the first colony was built in Haiti, Hispaniola. Christopher Columbus changed the name from Ayiti to Hispaniola. The first university was built on the island, the first European cathedral, the first court house, the first hospital. Haiti was really the place where everything started. And at the time, we didn’t have the United States, that came almost a century later.Without Haiti, without Vodou, there would not have been a Louisiana Purchase. Vodou was the opening gate for the Haitian revolution, it was the genesis. Haiti, in 1789 was the richest colony in the world. It produced more than half the sugar at that time, it was richer than 13 American colonies combined, the center of production. France did not want to lose that because Napoleon needed money. Western Louisiana did not have any importance, just New Orleans. New Orleans was the warehouse, but Haiti was the production center. In other words, New Orleans and Louisiana did not have any importance without Haiti. So when they lost Haiti, Louisiana lost significance too. And then when all of the people who left Haiti after the revolution came to Louisiana, France was afraid there would be another revolution here in the U.S.Haiti’s revolution was not for Haitians only. It was a revolution that started to restore human dignity universally. Haiti is monumental. The rest of the world was not ready to abolish slavery. But human dignity had to be restored. Today, people may not understand why, after all of that history, Haiti is the way it is, but it is very complicated. Haiti is paying for what it has done.

How have you started to incorporate New Orleans history into your work?

When I came to Louisiana in the 90s, it made sense to see the culture of Haiti transplanted in New Orleans. When you migrate, when you move, you look to build something that looks like home. You look to recreate the same society you left. That’s the reason when you look around, you see all of these similarities. It made me feel like I was somewhere in Jacmel or Port-au-Prince. As an artist, I felt like I was in the nest of my inspiration. 

What is your process in undertaking a historical painting?

To do those paintings, it’s not just about looking at a building or an institution and painting, but for me it was about doing a lot of research and reading. There are many people that don’t know anything about their past or connection to Haiti, because the government made an effort to Americanize Louisiana. They wanted them to abandon the past. Many important texts were never translated into English, so many people could not learn their history. It was only in the past 60 years that academia has become interested, and has begun translating these documents. Going to church records, finding information about marriage, about the people’s connection and names, and tracing them back to Haiti. 

How can we as New Orleanians have relationships around the Caribbean that acknowledges the past? As a Haitian living here, what is your vision for how we can keep that culture united?

To start the dialogue with people, you need to know you have something in common. The most important thing is to be conscious of the fact that people want you to see that when you ask questions or work with them on a project, it is not just about you, it is about them too. It is not about glorifying one side while the other remains in obscurity. We were not here during that time period, so people can’t blame us for the past. But we are still making an effort to make that history known. So many historians are politicians, writing history in a way that makes their side look good. So if their grandfather won a battle, or was a great man, they will include that history. But if they had no stake in it, they probably won’t write about it. It’s important to not reduce Haiti to a victim, but understand what they gave to the United States.