Youth: Education and Discovery

When you are small, everything appears monumental—literally and symbolically. In cultures where formal education begins in a classroom and away from home, a child’s first day of school, for instance, can be a scary event. For the first time in your life, your parents push you out of the nest—you are forced to meet new people, try new things, and embrace the unknown. These years are punctuated by moments of fear and awe, where one’s achievements are momentous and a confrontation can be terrifying. Howard Baer’s lithograph, My First Day at School (Late for School) (about 1940), captures one of these moments. A young Baer is confronted at the doorstep of his school by a stern instructor who wields a menacing switch. Behind the towering teacher and cavernous doorway, the schoolhouse is dark and shadowy. Who knows what dangers lie in the classroom!

As that childlike mixture of awe and fear of the everyday world gives way to teenage angst, rites of passage might evolve from the outwardly mundane to the inwardly profound. Three artworks from the Hood Museum of Art’s collection—Roxy Paine’s Acid Sheet Bosch (1994), Dwayne Wilcox’s Winkta (Gay) (2010), and Gillian Laub’s Amber and Reggie, Mt. Vernon, Georgia (2011)—each symbolize a fundamental shift in the hearts and minds of teenagers.

Paine’s Acid Sheet Bosch engages with the ongoing allure of hallucinogenic experiences. The ten-by-ten sheet of (faux) lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) features one hundred miniature representations of a small, cloaked bird carrying a letter and wearing ice skates—absurd imagery adopted from Hieronymus Bosch’s triptych The Temptation of St. Anthony (around 1501). It is quite likely that Paine’s appropriation was meant to evoke the phantasmagorical imagery that might manifest during a psychedelic trip. Paine was born during the 1960s counterculture movement, when experimenting with LSD represented the most seismic shift away from childhood, if not earthly reality; the use of recreational drugs remained a potent milestone for teenagers and young adults in the nineties, when Paine created this “acid”-sheet print. Because of LSD’s status as a Schedule 1 controlled substance in the United States, any codified consumption ritual cannot easily be formalized, but youth cultures often establish their own informal rites of passage. Casual LSD-usage represents a form of escapism, one way to completely transition out of reality; instead of a change of “age” or “social position,” these early psychonauts of the 1960s who popularized acid trips sought to move from one state to a completely unexplored one.

Wilcox’s Winkta (Gay) explores some of the tensions that young LGBTQ+ couples experience after coming out. As teenagers develop and begin to discover their sexuality, they slowly recognize they have just crossed one of the largest thresholds that separate adults from children. Sexual exploration can lead to profound moments of intimacy—moments that are totally foreign to a child. However, for many young queer couples, this time can be interrupted by moments ranging from uncomfortable to downright painful. The two couples that Wilcox depicts—one gay and one lesbian—are teased and pointed at by two onlookers, perhaps ridiculing them for their sexuality. Yet in the face of this derision, both couples defiantly stare down their antagonists. The pairs are fused together by touch; one body is enmeshed with the other. Their grips remain tight and their resolve is palpable. Despite the recognizable iconography, the message of this drawing is ambiguous. Rather than a clear indictment of bigotry, Wilcox simply presents us with a scenario that many young LGBTQ+ people endure. Although demonstrating resilience in the face of prejudice can have a profound impact on someone’s character, discrimination is a universally painful and unfair rite to experience.

Gillian Laub’s Amber and Reggie, Mt. Vernon, Georgia takes an unflinching look at one of America’s quintessential adolescent milestones: prom night. In this photograph, the subjects, Amber and Reggie, stare defiantly at the camera, wearing full prom regalia: Reggie in a black tuxedo, Amber in a short blue dress and an ornate corsage. However, their formal garments stand in stark contrast to the ramshackle building behind them. Like many towns in America, the neighborhoods of Mt. Vernon are divided by socioeconomic status, which disproportionately forces Black families into dilapidated housing. Despite the joyous occasion, there is little about the scene that expresses excitement. After all, how could the couple be expected to smile in the face of such persistent discrimination? Given their setting, smiles would appear disingenuous, especially if we acknowledge the photograph’s context. Beginning in 2002, Laub regularly visited Georgia’s Montgomery County to she document the lives of locals for her Southern Rites series. At face value, Mount Vernon exemplifies the quaint Southern town, but racism remains pervasive there. While photographing the residents of Mount Vernon, Laub learned that the local high school celebrated its homecomings and proms over the course of two nights: one for the white students, and one for the Black students—a practice Laub’s photographs ultimately helped change.† In 2010, the Black and white proms were finally integrated. Mt. Vernon’s segregated prom only scratches the surface, a mere symptom of America’s endemic racism.