Shattering Stereotypes: How Black and Asian Women Artists Took the Art World by Storm!

In November 1985, a corridor within the Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) in London was transformed into an important scene for British art history. Curated by Lubaina Himid, the exhibition titled The Thin Black Line showcased the artworks of 11 Black and Asian women artists. These pieces were strategically placed along the museum’s narrow hallway, symbolizing the marginalization these artists faced. Their creations, which delved into themes of social, cultural, political, feminist, and aesthetic significance, startled the conventional art establishment.

Critics either ignored the exhibition or criticized the artwork as being overly “angry”. Despite the initial pushback, this exhibition marked a significant moment, positioning Black women artists at the forefront of contemporary British art history. It laid the groundwork for later recognition of artists such as Himid and Veronica Ryan, both Turner Prize winners, and Sonia Boyce, a Venice Golden Lion awardee.

Four decades later, the ICA revisited this significant exhibition with Connecting Thin Black Lines 1985–2025, blending both new and previous works from the original artists, along with contributions from new artists. Several artists from the original lineup shared their reflections on the initial exhibition, the responses it elicited, and the evolution of the art world since then.

Sutapa Biswas: The 1980s were a tumultuous era politically, socially, and economically. I entered art college in 1981, deeply aware of the imperial histories that affected my parents who were born in what was then British India. They had lived through the partition and genocide and were displaced. It was also a complex period in the UK; in my community in West London, the Southall Youth Movement, an anti-racist group, had set fire to the Hambrough Tavern where skinhead bands performed.

Marlene Smith: I was pursuing my BA at the Bradford School of Art at the time. Being part of the BLK Art Group, a collective of young Black artists, had me contemplating my identity in the context of feminism. Although I wasn’t the only Black person at my school, I was among the very few, and certainly the only one attempting to create politically charged work.

Jennifer Comrie: I was living through an intriguing period: the Troubles, the miners’ strike, Thatcherism, apartheid in South Africa. My artwork was a reflection of these times. For me, art has always been a means to better understand myself and the world around me.

Ingrid Pollard: I held various jobs, including signing on for benefits, cleaning, and gardening for the council. My aspirations to become an artist were not exactly hopeful. I started screen-printing in an evening class, which led to a job at a feminist print shop in London. Surprisingly, I got the job, which also provided access to a darkroom where I began my photography.

Sutapa: During a university lecture, I was struck by a painting by Turner titled The Slave Ship. While the tutor emphasized its expressionistic brushmarks, I couldn’t help but think about what was depicted in the water. This moment, along with another lecture about class and gender but omitting race, spurred my thoughts about the lack of discussion on racial issues.

Marlene: My painting tutor was not fond of my work. He was skeptical that art could or should be political. So, when Lubaina engaged with my work and discussed it with me, it was transformative.

Jennifer: Lubaina happened to visit my studio and took an interest in my work. She inquired if I would like to exhibit it. Initially, I was hesitant, not realizing how crucial this opportunity would be.

Sutapa: I learned that Lubaina was giving a talk and decided to attend. I introduced myself and expressed my desire to interview her. After submitting my dissertation, I invited her to speak at the university. That’s when she saw my works Housewives with Steak-Knives and the video work Kali and invited me to participate in the exhibition.

Marlene: As the exhibition date approached, I was uncertain about what to create. Then, when Cherry Groce was shot by police during a raid on her Brixton home, it inspired me to create Good Housekeeping—a larger-than-life painting of a woman leaning against a doorway, with a framed photograph of my sister’s birthday party in the background, and the words: “My mother opens the door at 7am. She is not bulletproof.” painted above. This piece reflected on Cherry Groce as a middle-aged single mother.

Sutapa: The prevailing rhetoric in Britain was deeply racist. Thus, I began to consider performance as a form of strategic intervention. This idea surfaced in Kali, but it also influenced Housewives with Steak-Knives. The piece doesn’t just hang passively on the wall; it leans forward, creating the impression that it might topple over.

Jennifer: My piece Coming to Terms Through Conflict, which I included in the show, explored various aspects of identity—northern, Jamaican, British, Black, Christian, etc. Another piece, Untitled, continued this exploration with its intentionally broken stitching, symbolizing a refusal to be confined by societal norms—be it the church, family, or anyone else. It was a visual statement of freedom.

Marlene: During the installation, Jenny sang beautifully. Even now, the memory moves me. I recall Sutapa climbing up to write the words for my work in black paint.

Ingrid: The installation process was enjoyable, and we felt somewhat rebellious, given that it was taking place in a well-known gallery. Only later did I fully grasp the implications and the political agenda that Lubaina was orchestrating.

Helen Cammock [involved in new show]: I was 15 when The Thin Black Line was exhibited at the ICA. At that time, art wasn’t on my radar. It wasn’t until 2005, when I pursued a BA in photography, that my interest was piqued. I had bought some books containing Ingrid’s work, and her book Postcards Home, which juxtaposes images from England and the Caribbean, was on my desk as I wrote my dissertation. The images were poignant—they made me feel sad, angry, yet I also found them beautiful.

Marlene: The initial response to The Thin Black Line, especially from art critics, was quite disappointing. They approached the exhibition defensively, failing to engage with the substance of the work. Sutapa and I even wrote an article for Spare Rib magazine, discussing the inadequate critique surrounding Black artists.

Sutapa: The reviews were narrowly focused on questions of identity, which became a platform for expressing white guilt. However, the real issue was the avoidance of discussing our artistic practices in the way one might discuss the work of David Hockney or Helen Chadwick. We weren’t given the same level of critical consideration, especially in terms of aesthetics.

Helen: This isn’t a new phenomenon. It still occurs today. There’s this notion that if you’re discussing certain topics, you must be angry or didactic. Such experiences are marginalized, and the way the exhibition was framed undermined the quality of its ideas and its potential to challenge and change perceptions.

Marlene: You would expect an exhibition like The Thin Black Line to open up opportunities, but the opposite occurred. If you look at the Young British Artists (YBAs), there’s a clear connection to what had been done earlier by the Black Arts Movement. It’s striking that they seemed to adopt our DIY methods. However, they did not include Black artists in their projects.

Ingrid: I never stopped making art. I wasn’t ill, I didn’t have children, and I taught to maintain a regular income. I wasn’t concerned with the aspirations of being represented by a gallery. Those ideas were foreign to me.

Marlene: In 2011, Tate hosted an exhibition looking back at The Thin Black Line. Then, Graves Gallery discovered work by the BLK Art Group and organized a show. It felt like something significant was happening. Over the last decade, there’s been a resurgence of interest in the Black Arts Movement because, despite its importance, it had been largely overlooked in discussions of art history.

Amber Akaunu [involved in new show]: I studied art and art history at Liverpool Hope University from 2015 to 2018. Surprisingly, I didn’t learn much about Black art history. It pains me to think about what I missed. Along with another artist from the course, I started a magazine called Rooted. We felt there was a significant gap in knowledge that needed to be addressed.

Sutapa: After the exhibition, I continued to work and exhibit alongside notable artists like Vito Acconci, Tania Bruguera, Doris Salcedo, and Louise Bourgeois at Iniva in London. In 2004, I had a show there that wasn’t nominated for the Turner Prize. I wonder, where is my retrospective at Tate? Where is Claudette Johnson’s? My recent exhibitions at the Baltic and Kettle’s Yard haven’t received the recognition they deserve.

Ingrid: Recognition came after many years of persistent work, two to three decades. I was surprised when I was nominated for the Turner Prize. It significantly raised my public profile. For 40 years, the media had largely ignored me and many other artists.

Marlene: I had a solo show called Ah, Sugar in 2024. At the opening, Lubaina introduced me to the curators from the ICA and mentioned the upcoming exhibition, Connecting Thin Black Lines. It was an exciting and unexpected opportunity.

Helen: Reviewing the complete lineup was an eye-opening experience. These artists’ voices weren’t heard before, and now they are being amplified more than ever.

Amber: Lubaina hosted a lunch for some of the artists who were going to be in the new show. I absorbed everything I could. It was shocking but also touching to hear their stories. Many of these artists have achieved considerable success, but you can still sense their pain. I related deeply to their experiences. Some 30 to 40 years later, I’m encountering similar challenges. I remember curating an exhibition over four days and showcasing some work for Black History Month, yet we weren’t compensated for our efforts.

Ingrid: Many young students I speak to still express frustration over the lack of recognition and opportunities. Some things change, yet so much remains the same. My advice is that you need a community. You can’t do it alone. It takes a village to make an artist.

Helen: Participating in a show called Carte de Visite with Claudette Johnson and Ingrid Pollard in 2015 was a monumental experience for me. I believe it encapsulates what’s happening now—the interconnectedness across generations.

Marlene: It was an honor to exhibit alongside them initially, and it’s an honor to be reunited. Creating new work is always nerve-wracking. There’s a bit of an echo between the piece I’ve made this time and the one from 1985. This new piece is probably more gentle. Amber: The film I’m showing is about motherhood and friendship. It adopts a documentary style that explores my childhood being raised by a single mum in Toxteth, Liverpool.

Jennifer: It’s incredible to see the works being recognized again after 40 years. It feels like just a few moments ago we were setting up the works in the ICA’s corridor.

Ingrid: I hope the exhibition annoys a lot of people in the art world. When they had the opportunity to engage with these artists, they didn’t take it. So it’s like: “See what you missed out on, mate.”