Black History Month, Left of Center-style

The African tribesman who carved the tall wooden mask with the wild woven hair would undoubtedly be shocked and confused to find it hanging on the gleaming white wall of an art gallery all these decades later, presented as an object of aesthetic appreciation. To him, it was an item of practical purpose -- used in the harvest ceremonies and change-of-season rites that were a vital part of his life.

Nonetheless, at least since the time Picasso checked out an exhibit of African objects and either did or didn't -- depending on whose interpretation you buy -- create Cubism as a result, western eyes have been fascinated by traditional African imagery. About 50 such pieces, including the tall mask and other sculptures and textile works, will go on display beginning Sunday at the Left of Center Gallery, 2207 W. Gowan Road, to mark Black History Month (there will be an opening reception 2-5 p.m. that day). The exhibit is titled "Ceremonies."

"It looks heavy but it's not," says gallery owner Vicki Richardson, indicating a roundish wood mask hanging near the door. It's a few days before the opening. The gallery is still showing swirly abstract paintings by Mari Waits, but Richardson has set out a small array of the objects to be shown Sunday. "It was used in rites of passage for young males," she explains of the intricately carved mask. "It was held up and danced with." Nearby is a fecund statue that you instinctively understand as a fertility idol; maybe it's the way she holds her lightly swollen belly, or maybe it's the infant on her back.

"All the pieces we chose for this exhibit, I wanted them to be at least 60 years old," Richardson says. (Most were provided by California-based art consultant Masamba Mboup.) This is black history as black art and black art as a learning tool. "I have nothing against contemporary art" -- obviously, given the Mari Waits paintings -- "but for this show, I was more interested in traditional pieces, pieces that had a history behind them. We wanted it to be educational, something we could teach from.

If that last sentence makes her sound like an art teacher, it's only because she was, for 18 years in the Clark County School District; she retired last year. Several of the artists in the Left of Center orbit -- notably Sylvester Collier and Harold Bradford -- also teach art. Therefore, expect each piece to be accompanied by an explanatory text detailing its original uses and context. "I hope people take away from (the exhibit) an appreciation for the art that came from the African cultures," Richardson says, "and that they'll be more knowledgeable, and have more background about it. I hope it promotes a respect for diversity. We're hoping it has a strong educational component."

Richardson, an artist herself, has operated a gallery of some sort for 15 years, first as After Images, then, after moving into this second-floor space six years ago, as Left of Center. Here she not only displays art, but provides a center of gravity for a group of local artists who meet, network and shop-talk here. They in turn mentor budding artists.

She strolls into a back room. "This is my studio during the week," she says, "but on weekends I open it up. So on any given Saturday you can find a bunch of artists, eight to 12 of them, working up here." Art classes are also held here. The point: To encourage cultural activity in people who might otherwise not engage in it.

"I want people to get the work from under the bed or out of the closet or wherever they hide it," she says. "I guess it's the teacher in me -- I want to get people motivated." Her efforts in that regard recently earned her a coveted Governor's Arts Award from the Nevada Arts Council.

Those with only a passing acquaintance with the gallery's reputation frequently think of it as a largely black art venue -- isn't every month Black History Month there?

Not at all, Richardson says. "We exhibit artists of every ethnic background. We show everything from representational to abstract art. We promote respect for all art. Our family of artists have come from every background."

Why the name Left of Center? Sounds political. "I suppose it's somewhat of a political statement," she allows. These days, what isn't? Left of Center -- she copped the phrase from a Suzanne Vega song that goes, "If you want me you can find me left of center, off the strip" -- is meant to evoke a sense of not being in the mainstream, geographically or artistically.

"It has to do with the location and the fact that we're not mainstream," she says. "That I do think of this as an alternative space; that some of us had a very difficult time getting our work shown 20 years ago."

When she opened Left of Center six years ago, she was indeed beyond the mainstream -- this was the edge of town. She and her artist friends could sit at the window and look out over a vast, undeveloped expanse, peopled intermittently by horse owners out for a desert canter.

"We would sketch the people on horseback," she recalls. "I remember seeing the first four-wheelers and saying, 'What are they doing out here, they're tearing up our desert!' " That window now overlooks a crust of packed suburbia that stretches almost to the distant mountains.

But mostly, hers is a politics of connection and education. "The artists who are here feel like they're a family. It's sort of a welcome wagon for other artists. It always amazes us who will walk through the door with their paintings on Saturday and have a cup of coffee with the artists."

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