The Intentional Fiction of Historical Painting
By Taylor Spence
This painting depicts an enslaved person named Sandy, for whom there exist exactly three archival references, none of which are images.
The first comes from Thomas Jefferson’s financial records pertaining to his dealings with the Jefferson Family. It reads:
“To hire for Sandy from my father's death 1757 to Dec. 31, 1762 5 ½years @ £18"[1]
The second comes from a 1769 advertisement, and reads as follows:
“Run away from the subscriber in Albemarle, a Mulatto slave, called Sandy, about 35 years of age, his stature is rather low, inclining to corpulence, and his complexion light; he is a shoemaker by trade, in which he uses his left hand, principally, can do course, carpenters [sic], work, and is something of a horse jockey; he is greatly addicted to drink, and when drunk is insolent and disorderly, in his conversation, he swears much, and in his behavior is artful and knavish. He took with him a white horse, much scarred with traces, of which it is expected, he will endeavor to dispose; he also carried his shoemakers [sic] tools, and he will probably endeavor to get employment that way. Whoever conveys the said slave to me, in Albemarle, she’ll have 40 s. reward, if taken up within the county, 4 l. If elsewhere within the colony, 10 l. If in any other colony. From
Thomas Jefferson.”[2]
The third again comes from Jefferson’s own accounts, January 29, 1773:
"To negro Sandy sold to Colo[nel] Charles Lewis £100."[3]
To recap: Jefferson rented Sandy out after inheriting him from his father for the consideration of £18, after which, presumably, the slave was returned to work for him. Then, Sandy escaped with a white horse, and later Jefferson apprehended and sold him.
Before, between, and after those three archival references, all from the hand, mind, and perceptions of an enslaver, Sandy’s real lifeblood flowed and filled in the gaps. But even as minimal as this record is, we know more about Sandy than we do about the vast majority of the poor, exploited, and oppressed, for whom there is little recorded data.
These three pieces of evidence tell the story of a person defiantly and gloriously resistant to dehumanization and overweening domination. They tell the story of a horse, who had been worked so hard that his skin was notably scarred. I can see Sandy freeing this horse from his harness and bridle, leaping onto his back, and the two of them riding away together into freedom. Theirs was a courageous but doomed undertaking. A swift and sure punishment awaited one of them, once they were caught, and both would be returned to hard labor. My painting depicts a moment in the interregnum of these two imprisoned lives.
After much wrestling, I decided to create a face from my imagination rather than use a live model as a stand-in. I believe that every individual’s life and a history are their own possession, and equal. It felt more honest to create a face rather than use someone else’s. However, I realized that in making this decision, I had entered into the world of historical fiction, unfamiliar territory for me, a trained historian.
The towering African-American sociologist, historian, and activist W. E. B. Du Bois did not shy away from historical fiction, believing it could serve the greater purpose of “imagining . . . the unknown truth[s]” of the past.[4] His affinity for historical fiction came out of how he understood the artist as creator, and then how he understood the role of the Black artist in a racist society. In a 1926 speech, “the Criteria of Negro Art,” he explained:
“[The artist] has used the truth—not for the sake of truth, not as a scientist seeking truth, but as one upon whom truth eternally thrusts itself as the highest handmaid of imagination, as the one great vehicle of universal understanding.
Again, artists have used goodness — goodness in all its aspects of justice, honor, and right—not for the sake of an ethical sanction but as the true method of gaining sympathy and human interest.
Thus all art is propaganda and ever must be, despite the wailing of the purists.”
The artist seeks truth not for a moral or political aim, but because they try to meet the demands of their imagination, which itself springs from their own human experience. They are drawn to and use the good, not for praise, but to persuade, attract, and win converts, because the good is seductive and attractive. Beauty is not an ideal to strive for but a byproduct of these two aspects of art creation.
Art arises out of these inner “compulsions,” as Du Bois calls them, but he recognized that the artist was subject also to outer compulsions. The artist seeks an audience, so the things that are shown, sold, and deemed “art” naturally reflect the social and political agendas of power. Art is propaganda in that it cannot but help to seek to persuade and influence based on such agendas. In a racist society those agendas are white agendas.
The African-American artist has a unique role to play in the development of the United States, according to Du Bois. The propaganda the Black artist produces will offer a completely new vision for the entire nation. “We who are dark can see America in a way that white Americans cannot,” Du Bois says. This clearer perspective was a gift and an opportunity, and meant Black artists and art had the potential to transform how all artists created, as well as how all people understood the value of art to the society.[5]
Being a social scientist, it is perhaps not surprising that when Du Bois himself decided to make art, he chose historical fiction, which enabled him to draw on his many years of research into the United States and African-American history. Similarly, with “Sandy,” as well as with the other paintings in this series, I imagine into the gaps, shadows, and silences of my historical research in an effort to create a more fulsome narrative of American History.
[1] “Founders Online: Advertisement for a Runaway Slave, 7 September 1769” (University of Virginia Press), accessed November 22, 2023, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-01-02-0021.
[2] Virginia Historical Society, cited in L. Scott Philyaw, “A Slave for Every Soldier: The Strange History of Virginia’s Forgotten Recruitment Act of 1 January 1781,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 109, no. 4 (2001): 374.
[3] “Founders Online: National Archives.”
[4] W. E. B Du Bois, The Black Flame: The Ordeal of Mansart, vol. 1 (Mainstream Publishers, 1957), 315–16 cited in:; Amir Jaima, “Historical Fiction as Sociological Interpretation and Philosophy: On the Two Methodological Registers of W. E. B. Du Bois’ The Black Flame,” Transactions of the Charles S. Pierce Society 53, no. 4 (2017): 598.
[5] Jaima, “Historical Fiction as Sociological Interpretation and Philosophy: On the Two Methodological Registers of W. E. B. Du Bois’ The Black Flame,” 585–89.