Poetic analysis offers a second semiological lens when observing Migrations. Firstly, the imported 17th-century Japanese style of the Haiku offers additional information as to the literary context of international movement which the work represents. The three-line seventeen-syllable format of the Haiku was popularized in the West through the work of the Imagists, who dedicated their poetry to the idea of simplicity in writing and strength in imagery (Poets.org). A structure echoed by the high contrast photographs by Williams. The poems utilize image-heavy phrasing that doesn’t always directly correlate with the images. “Frontline soldiers” and “Warriors” transform refugees into bravehearts. “Bristled brush” and “shade of southern trees” give a frame of reference for the beginning of the journey, while “angel city” and “self-made place” tell of a secret denouement. Existing at multiple chronological stations, the poems take us from the time immediately preceding Hurricane Katrina, to the aftermath of the storm, all the way until decades later, where those that departed the area have successfully established new lives.
Immigrants and migrants, travelers and visitors. In Migrations, Clarence Williams chooses to memorialize the desire of all humans to find a place to call home. Not only home through material protection, but indomitable cultural and communal bonds. Of the 21 poetic signs that make up the text based portion of the work, 7 discuss the impact of Hurricane Katrina, 5 talk about outward appearance, 4 talk about family, 4 mention the idea of settlement, and lastly, 3 deal with celebration/joy. While not focused solely on the impact of Hurricane Katrina - the Category 5 hurricane which hit the coast of Louisiana in 2005 and caused over $125 billion in damages to the city of New Orleans and surrounding areas - Migrations does take Katrina as a focal point to outline modern visual history of American migratory movements from recent memory. The relocation of Americans displaced by political, economic, or even environmental upheaval is not new for our country’s history. In the early 20th, countless Black Americans moved from the south across the entire country as part of the aptly named Great Migration. Movement for Black Americans specifically has a complex history of inequality and accessibility determining exegesis as well as destination. Similarly, the movement of citizens out of New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina – which was a city with a racial makeup of 67% Black citizens in 2005 – was also heavily influenced by economic status (Plyer). Katrina is significant for an artwork in an LA metro station because of the 1 million Americans displaced from New Orleans, many of which moved to Los Angeles. The United States has a long history of westward expansion being seen as the grail for new beginnings, and the theme of Migrations is no different in its idea of Los Angeles as a beacon for the possibility of achieving the safety and comfort of a new life.
Given the brevity of the time which travelers will spend within the Historic Broadway Station, Migrations is meant to offer bite-sized thinking for the average passenger. Its message is delivered in short communiques of only three lines, but the perspectival depth of each accompanying photograph allows the work to occupy a more complex space in the eye of the beholder. While the signs do little to contribute to navigational orientation - unlike its neighbors the humble station marquees - it does provide a differentiating factor for visitors by creating a unique, recognizable installation to help identify the station. A work of art that willingly dives into the tangle of cables that is the history of internal and external American migration is one that inherently sees movement as a virtuous gauntlet in search of personal betterment. Located within a metro station, the thematic discussion of migration is only strengthened by the viewers’ identification of themselves as travelers, resting at a plateau within the endless labyrinth of train tunnels that uphold the city’s quotidian operation. The presence of the signs also brings aesthetic appeal, which a handful of Metro stockholders in a boardroom somewhere likely saw as a great opportunity to pull visitors into their lair, increasing foot traffic to the newest location of their expansion (Gottdiener 4). While not all public art is an incentive for generating profits, artworks that are hidden deep within the ground, guarded by that abominable minotaur known as the turnstile, which can be swiftly defeated by the swing of the unsheathed tap card, are more likely than not agents of that same capitalist system which monopolizes the only proletarian alternative to a car-centric infrastructure.
Ultimately, the 41-panel laurel adorning the Historic Broadway station gives visitors something interesting to chew on while waiting for their chariot to their next destination to arrive. Movement is an intrinsic part of humanity, and it is only natural for every journey to have an end. Unfortunately, millions of people are constantly being thrust into unexpected journeys with no clear terminus, but it is the responsibility of the surrounding community to build bridges of empathy and mutual aid, just as the newcomers will begin to sow resilient seeds of settlement. Clarence Williams and Ursula Rucker’s Migrations is a beautifully succinct testament to the strength of the migrant, and the interconnectedness which the tides of migration spread across a rapidly globalizing world. Equally effective at spreading its message as it is at recounting American history, Migrations signals to the world a state of openness for Los Angeles, just as the Statue of Liberty once signified the arrival to the promised land for new immigrants in the 20th century.
