Have You Seen Enough Black Art For Women’s History Month?

Nina Simone is synonymous with Black Art. Her song “Four Women” lives on and these four Black artists have art that personifies every verse.

It may be the last day of March, but we’re still celebrating Women’s History Month. From time to time I like to connect two different genres of Black art. Today we’re celebrating both music and visual art. When is the last time you listened to Four Women by Nina Simone? In the middle of BlerdCon this year I got to meet the talented Zazie Beetz with my Taji Mag colleague Felipe Patterson who interviewed her. She created a character playlist featuring the song “Four Women” by Nina Simone.

Indeed, there is an infinite list of Black art we could share. For now, let’s highlight four works of Black art that embody the vibes of each of those four women from Nina Simone’s timeless song: “Four Women”. The comparisons to Nina Simone’s lyrics from “Four Women” are reflected in my interpretation of these works of art, not the artists themselves.

Aunt Sarah

Artist: Simone Leigh (IG: @simoneyvetteleigh)

Simone Leigh is a Chicago born contemporary sculptor. One image that comes to mind when I think of Nina Simone’s description of Aunt Sarah’s is Simone Leigh’s “Brick House”. Interestingly, its silhouette alone captivates and calls to question America’s racist beauty standards. We can also see Aunt Sarah in Leigh’s 2022 piece “Last Garment” where she depicts a Jamaican laundress hunched over, working to clean clothes. These two artworks are three dimensional replicas of Aunt Sarah in my eyes.

Out of all the Black art I discuss here, Simone Leigh’s work has the most literal translation of Nina Simone’s lyrics. The wooly hair and the strong back are demonstrated in “Last Garment” as we bear witness to the labor of this woman wearing a tightly coiled afro. In this case, what is most compelling (outside of the Afrocentric features that Leigh carries through her work) is the sheer scale. These giant monuments will likely have the same time honored reverence as the Olmec Heads.

My skin is black. My arms are long .My hair is woolly. My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain. Inflicted again and again
What do they call me?
My name is Aunt Sarah…My name is Aunt Sarah…Aunt Sarah

Saffronia

Artist: Zazie Beetz (IG: @zaziebeetz)

This list almost wouldn’t make sense without a piece from the woman who inspired the article. First of all, I think it may be pretty clear, but in case it’s not: I’m a Zazie Beetz fan.

In addition to acting, she also grew up creating art. In a post from earlier this year she talked about making time/space for our passions. When I think of Saffronia I am reminded of the joys that women in her situation have had to forfeit in order to survive in a world that constantly reminds them how much society hates us. For many of us, that translates to choosing productivity over creativity. For Saffronia, that potentially means ignoring the trauma of being a child of assault and instead pushing forward with a smile. Similarly, Zazie’s sketches are breif and emotionally suggestive; expressive and in motion.

Admitedly, neither Beetz in her sketches, nor Simone in the verse about Saffronia make this explicit, but I see it in their overall analysis. Zazie Beetz’s conversations around racist violence against Black people or her struggle with having natural hair both mirror themes in Simone’s music (see “Mississippi Goddamn” and “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair”). For me, these four pages of her sketchbook echo a freeness and vulnerability that Saffronia wasn’t able to explore. Again, this art is a more subtle expression of “Four Women”, but I think it’s just as powerful.

My skin is yellow. My hair is long. Between two worlds. I do belong
But my father was rich and white. He forced my mother late one night
And what do they call me?
My name is Saffronia…My name is Saffronia

Sweet Thing

Artist: Zanele Muholi (IG: @muholizanele)

Granted, all of the Black art on this list is phenomenal. But, these two black & white portraits by Zanele Muholi give me life every time. This work preceded their journey into large scale sculptures.

I was first introduced to Zanele Muholi’s self portraits on social media. Notably, their ability to play with these stark visual contrasts is parallel to the two worlds Nina Simone describes in the Sweet Thing verse. While this is a less literal interpretation of Nina Simone’s lyrics, I think the confidence with which Muholi crafts these contrasts of light and dark speaks to the essence of the verse. Not to mention, Muholi’s background as a South African photographer informs their work and many of their pieces are a response to the violence experienced by queer communities.

Specifically, Muholi has commented that their purpose is focused on rewriting “a Black queer and trans visual history of South Africa for the world to know of our resistance and existence at the height of hate crimes in SA and beyond.”

My skin is tan. My hair is fine. My hips invite you. My mouth like wine
Whose little girl am I? Anyone who has money to buy. What do they call me?
My name is Sweet Thing…My name is Sweet Thing.

Peaches

Artist: April Bey (IG: @aprilbey_)

Regardless of how into art you think are, you NEED to see April Bey’s work in person. The textures, the imagery, the colorful and puffified boldness all work together to personify the exact attitude that Peaches radiates in Nina Simone’s song. Her entire colonial swag collection speaks to that same persistent vibe. Maybe it’s the LA in her or maybe it’s the resilience of our ancestors, but there’s something massively intriguing about her art. Rather than going too heavy on the stars and quasars, her work highlights an evolved sense of collective determination. Equally important, Bey takes AfroFuturism to a place that I think Sun Ra would be in love with.

One piece that absolutely screams Peaches to me is her 2025 piece “We Will Not Apologize for Being the Universe; Our Own Constellation. Don’t You Know Light Lives in Dark Places Too?”

Whether from far away, up close, or on your phone screen you can see the intricacies of her thought process. In spite of the tendancy of fine art to be tense and serious, her stitching, textiles, color palettes, and facial expressions of each figure are a testament to a vibrance even though the world forces that “tough manner” on us.  I get that sense that even though she comes from a rough reality, she has within her a lightness that allows her to rise above and float beyond what her enslaved parents thought could have been possible. And that radical imagination is apparent in both Simone’s and Bey’s work.

My skin is brown. My manner is tough. I’ll kill the first mother I see. My life has been rough
I’m awfully bitter these days. Because my parents were slaves
What do they call me?
My name is Peaches

Black Art x Women’s History Month

As can be seen throughout this list, Black art is the move. The global art market is a $60 billion industry, but Black women earn less than 0.5% of that revenue. Black creatives overall earn about 2%. Obviously, these talented creatives deserve this recognition and more. In addition to the talented artists we featured, here a few organizations to follow to support more Black creatives:

• Black Art in America
• Fifteen Percent Pledge
• E&S Art Gallery
• Artists & Afros
• Butter Fine Art Fair
• Black Girls In Art Spaces