Mireille Delice (center right, wearing grey and blue) runs through her method for creating flags as attendees watch. Photo by Jack Delaney
By JACK DELANEY | jdelaney@queensledger.com
Mireille Delice had taken a winding path to arrive here, in this gallery in Crown Heights, with a crowd of people peering over her shoulder as she sewed a brand new flag.
Delice studied the techniques of flag making in the 1980s alongside her cousin, with whom she worked at a wedding dress factory in Port-au-Prince, Haiti’s capital. When the factory closed, however, she experienced a series of dreams, which culminated in a message: “I did not have to work in the factory,” she told HAND/EYE Magazine, “but I could learn to work for myself and earn for my family.” At age 25, she officially began her life as an independent artist — and would go on to build the corpus of colorfully sequined flags that now brought her to Brooklyn.
After a successful run, the recent exhibit “Sacred Banners of Haitian Vodou,” organized by nonprofit Haiti Cultural Exchange and curated by Axelle Liautaud, closed on March 9 with a tutorial by Delice, drawing dozens of community members who were curious to witness her process. The show featured more than 15 artists, such as Rudy Azor and Maxon Scylla, with work spanning over 40 years; red dots — meaning “SOLD” — sat under most of the pieces.
But the walls, though full, were marked by absence: two years ago, Liautaud lost almost all of her lifelong collection of Haitian artwork, after a fire claimed the building in which most of the pieces were held. And local residents and gallery staff alike repeatedly referenced the political violence currently occurring in Haiti, which prevented several artists from attending.
“Grand Bois,” by Rudy Azor. Photo by Jack Delaney
Despite those grim asterisks, the breadth of work in HCX’s gallery stood as proof that Haitian artists — many like Delice exiled from their home country, or trapped inside it amid conflict — are carrying on a centuries-old tradition of Vodou flag making, stitch by stitch.
After an opening speech by Régine Roumain, HCX’s founder and executive director, Liautaud translated as Delice answered questions about her practice, flanked by her daughter. Delice was part of a second wave of Vodou flag makers, Liautaud said, who because of an embargo in the 1990s often designed beads and sequins from scratch.
Vodou has a multivalent history in Haiti. It’s a “people’s religion,” write anthropologists Sidney Mintz and Michel-Rolph Trouillot — an umbrella term for practices and beliefs created over the course of centuries by people of disparate backgrounds, including enslaved Africans and the indigenous Taino, with strong ties to the revolution in 1771 that expelled the French and inaugurated a republic. But since the 20th century, it’s also become “two other things beside: a [tool] for Haitian political leaders, and a side show for tourist hotels.”
“Marassa 3,” by Mireille Delice. Photo by Jack Delaney
Ritual flags, known as drapo, are central to Vodou. Typically made with anywhere between 2,000 and 20,000 sequins and beads, they’ve been crafted since at least the mid-1800s, per historian Patrick Polk, though “anti-superstition” crackdowns and dismissal by the art industry have meant that few early flags survive today.
Even so, the drapo tend to be more durable than other bead-based craftsmanship from elsewhere in the world, Liautaud said. And as Delice described, the fabrication process is often a joint effort by family members or the neighborhood, with one artist drawing the piece and their collaborators helping to realize it.
“I knew them all,” said Liautaud, of Haiti’s prominent Vodou flag makers. Liautaud was a consultant on the major exhibition “Sacred Art of Haitian Vodou,” which made a stop at the New York’s own Museum of Natural History in 1998 as it traversed the country. “I was interested in promoting and selling things that were not already in galleries,” she recalled. “So I started doing flags, mostly, and iron work.”
The current instability in Haiti — the roots of which trace back not only to the recent earthquakes, but to the US occupation of Haiti from 1915 to 1934, the aftershocks of that economic exploitation, and later the brutal dictatorship of President Francois Duvalier — has fractured many of the island nation’s communities, including those of its artists. Liautaud shared that several of her contacts have been on the run, moving every few months, with limited materials or opportunities to create their work.
Fashion designer Michel Chataigne is headling HCX’s next show. Photo by Jack Delaney
Yet as neighborhood characters, friends and family, and art collectors wandered around the gallery, the mood was not only somber but appreciative. Anecdotally, fan favorites included Delice’s “Marassa 3,” a drapo depicting divine triplets who play a role as guardians of crossroads and thresholds.
“We’ve had a great community of folks coming out to experience this very unique exhibition,” said Roumain. “Sometimes you’ll see Vodou flag makers having a solo show in a major museum. But to be in our own community space, in the context of what is happening internationally in Haiti — and also in the United States — is really important, and has been powerful.”
“Sacred Banners” is over, unfortunately, but not to worry! After Delice’s tutorial, the Star caught up with the artist behind HCX’s next show, “Michel Chataigne, La Mode et Haïti,” an immersive tour through the titular fashion designer’s illustrious career. Chataigne, a trailblazer whose achievements encompass everything from establishing Haiti’s first school of cosmetology to organizing the Miss Haiti pageant in both Haiti and New York, said he was excited to show off how much his work has changed over the years. You can see his exhibit at the HCX gallery (558 St Johns Place) until April 13.
HCX’s upcoming event is a fashion and cultural identity workshop with Chataigne on Saturday, March 29, from 2 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. at its Crown Heights location.
