Could a Black artist succeed as an abstract expressionist in the 1950s? Norman Lewis thought he could. And why not? Abstract Expressionism, the first American art movement to achieve worldwide recognition, promised limitless artistic freedom.
But limitless for whom? Seriously, how many Black abstract expressionists can you name? Think about that for a second.
After years of painting, I become aware of the individualism of certain artists. They were just doing what they wanted to do. So why not me?
Norman Lewis, the Vivian Browne interview, 1974
Unsurprisingly, Lewis never became a household name, nor are his brilliant paintings routinely canonized alongside giants like Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko.
Is it because he was the lone Black artist among the first generation of Abstract Expressionists? Or is it the result of a complex interaction of social and institutional factors?
Black artists and political imagery
Initially, major Black art dealers dismissed abstraction as politically irrelevant. In the struggle against discrimination, they pinned their hopes on a more easily deciphered style—Social Realism—which casts everyday people as heroic symbols of persistence in the face of adversity.
Early in his career, Lewis painted in the Social Realist manner. In Johnny the Wanderer, a Black man warms himself before a small fire in an oil can. Lewis captures the cold reality of America during the Great Depression, when jobs were scarce.
He also explored the works of Picasso and other European artists. The language of Cubism is clearly visible in The Yellow Hat, a painting built from an arrangement of cubes, cones, and spheres.
Yet, within this rigid structure, the tilt of the woman’s hat introduces an air of intrigue. What problem is she trying to solve?
Striking a delicate balance
Ultimately, Lewis abandoned Social Realism to focus on the universal language of abstraction.
The protest art I was trying to create never solved anything. A Goya painting never stopped a war. A picket line says more to the masses than a painting because most people don’t see paintings.
Norman Lewis, Archives of American Art interview, 1968
In his Harlem studio, Lewis experimented with abstraction by disengaging line from color—but not completely. Ultimately, he found the delicate balance he was looking for by studying nature:
One morning, while I was fishing off Long Island, it became foggy. The sky and water catalyzed so that you could not see the point where they fell together. Fog, this ethereal filter, fascinated me. It became the dominant undertone in much of my painting.
Norman Lewis, “A History of African-American Artists,” 1993
Lewis began using color to create a feeling of space and depth, while using line as a rhythmic counterpoint. His most evocative compositions transform the energy of political marches and cultural celebrations into luminous, calligraphic images.
The expressiveness of light and shadow
What is the subject of his painting Evening Rendezvous? If the fog were to lift, would those white brushstrokes become hooded Klansmen wielding menacing red torches?
This is where it gets really challenging. An artist is always thinking, “What can I say that will be of any value? What can I say that will arouse someone to look and feel awed by it?”
Norman Lewis, Archives of American Art interview, 1968
Accordingly, during the politically turbulent 1960s, Lewis created a series of black-and-white paintings filled with gestural brushstrokes that tumble backwards and forwards and then press on—a metaphor for the social struggles endured by Black Americans.
The wedge-shaped wall of Untitled (Alabama) foreshadows the black granite of Maya Lin’s Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Yet, for critics like Clement Greenberg, did this imagery stray too close to the forbidden territory of figurative painting to be considered truly abstract?
If so, it’s a flimsy reason to omit Lewis from the canon. Willem de Kooning’s work is loosely figural and he’s considered a pillar of Abstract Expressionism.
Altering the historical narrative
Even though the art establishment withheld support, Lewis found a home among his fellow artists. He exhibited with them at the Willard Gallery. Drank with them at the legendary Cedar Street Tavern. And helped shape history at the historic Studio 35 symposium, where the term “abstract expressionism” was coined.
Although art museums typically label Lewis as a lone visionary or part of a well-defined circle of Black artists, he is neither.
Norman Lewis is a sophisticated colorist and gifted technician whose beautifully conceived abstract expressionist works portray his innermost feelings about nature and human nature.
A lyrical painter, he was the first major Black American artist to embrace abstraction’s full potential.
There is a temptation to think Lewis is a musician as well as a painter for he starts softly on a blank page—like a musician improvising. As he sees a suitable motif taking shape, he swings into it with confidence, plays it up for what it is worth and then, satisfied that he has gone the whole way with it, permits it to fade softly out.
Art critic Henry McBride, “Art News,” 1952
“So why in hell aren’t you famous?”
I was beginning to despair of ever getting a straight answer to that long-standing question myself when cultural critic Margo Jefferson arrived with a new book that sheds light—albeit unintentionally.
In her book, Jefferson describes how her father, an esteemed pediatrician, never really got over being cut from the USC marching band:
The white directors let him join the regular band. He was a good trombonist, they said.
But the marching band was different. It was a university spectacle meant to affirm the easy, unconstrained unity of fans, families, and donors. A Black student in their midst would mar the symmetrical patterning of the whole.
Author Margo Jefferson, “Constructing a Nervous System,” 2022
In much the same way, Norman Lewis never fit comfortably into the story of Abstract Expressionism written in the 1950s. White historians weren’t up to the task of penetrating a Black artist’s lived experience.
But stories can be rewritten. We can look back and see what was misunderstood or unappreciated. It’s too late for Norman Lewis to feel seen, but it’s not too late for his work to be seen.
Postscript: If you happen to be in Washington, DC…
Explore Miró and the United States, a special exhibition at the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. from March 21 thru July 5, 2026. The show features 75 works by more than 30 American artists who inspired Miró, including Norman Lewis. Click the link for details.