I wasn’t even a minute and a half into the fourth episode of MTV The exhibition: Find the next great artist as artist Jillian Mayer admitted that despite being in competition, she has many friends on the show, which she described as a “cute bunch of talented creatives.” With only two episodes left, even the magic of friendship can’t revive the series’ waning heartbeat as the competing artists in this week’s round addressed themes of justice and injustice.

Honestly, this was the most lifeless episode yet, and that surprised me, considering that a number of the competing artists’ personal practices engage with intersectionality and minority perspectives. I think what made it so gaping was the fact that so far I haven’t seen any growth or inventiveness from the artists (except with Jamaal Barber, which I’ll come back to later), but rather a stagnant reliance on existing skills, knowledge and canons to win the $100,000 prize and an exhibition at the Hirshhorn. It just gets painful to sit through another episode knowing exactly what each artist will create before their studio time even begins.

The formula is that Hirshhorn Director Melissa Chiu dully reads her lines from cue cards, co-host Dometi Pongo uses his reality TV voice to convey the next challenge, the painters paint and the sculptors sculpt, and then everyone gathers for the tiniest baby critique. Everyone wants the challenge themes to work for their existing practices, despite being in the perfect environment to try something new and daring or embrace new influences, since no one is left off the show anyway.

The fleeting climax of the episode, which proved utterly anticlimactic, came when Misha Kahn’s inflatable dolphin pool toy erupted into expanding foam for his endangered species sculptural installation vaquita (Kahn hesitated between pronouncing it as “vuh-quee-ta” and the correct “va-kee-ta”), a California bottlenose dolphin he apparently only found out about a few weeks ago. I winced a little when Kahn, a white cisgender man, explained that animals are “the most marginalized group” because they “literally have no voice”. I mean, he’s not technically wrong and I’ve got as much heart and soul as the next person, but read the room beast.

Clare Kambhu made a large format oil and acrylic painting of standard school chairs viewed from above and arranged in a semicircle reminiscent of classroom discussions. “Are schools places of oppression, places where we can make meaningful change, or both?” Kambhu asks through her painting. (Hint: it’s both…) It was technically well done, but tired of hanging on to her other chair pictures in a way that made it easy for me to overlook it. Jillian Mayer made a really DIY-esque installation about how social media platforms benefit from outrage porn and hiveminds, but somehow include filter feeders and live goldfish…?

Frank Buffalo Hyde painted a landscape of Granite Mountain in South Dakota’s Black Hills, a sacred indigenous site that was irreparably defaced to create Mt. Rushmore. I didn’t think his style translated well into this painting, but I was taken aback when Chiu commented that the color blue is not typically associated with landscapes, and when judge Kenny Schachter returned, whose presence on the show remains a mystery, said it never occurred to him to consider Mt. Rushmore as anything other than a feat of human excellence before speaking with Buffalo Hyde. I mean… oops.

Jamaal Barber lost out in this episode when he forgot to trust his vision. His original commission idea was an abstracted account of the state-sanctioned murder of 23-year-old Amadou Diallo, a Guinean who was shot 41 times by the NYPD in 1999. Barber was the only one trying to do something new this week and heed the judges’ feedback by moving away from portraiture and figuration, but it was his beautifully painted faces that secured him victory in episode three. However, I definitely appreciate him for venturing out of his comfort zone and exploring new methods and ideas.

And, as predicted, although she was very clear, Jennifer Warren painted another flat, unrefined oil painting knows how to draw and that would have made more sense for the comic strip she was doing. Baseera Khan’s head didn’t feel like it was in the game this week and it showed in her work as well, which is unfortunate because I thought they knocked that one out of the park.

At the end of the day, when I can’t have the drama of shadows, shit talk, and outrageous challenges, I just want to see something fresh and exciting coming from these artists. But I won’t hold my breath.

Dakota Cates (aka Wizard of Barge) is one of my favorite artists I’ve discovered through social media. Like most people who crave dopamine, I spend too much time staring into the digital void; However, when my incessant scrolling rewards me with WOB’s art, I’m always glad I went on the endorphin hunt. Funny, poignant, beautiful, and at times a little crass, Dakota’s strange world of wondrous wizards and wacky creatures never fails to disperse the storm clouds of modern malaise. I recently took a mystical journey into his DMs and we threw back a six pack of questions.

Michael Seven: How did you come up with the name Wizard of Barge? Did you consider any other names before landing on this?
Wizard of Barge: I love fantasy and magic, and “Barge” was my skate crew’s rallying cry in Houston. If you’re afraid to try something – just go for it, man! I had no idea it would become my stage name until it was way too late to choose a less confusing name. Oops!

Her art has a rather upbeat tone to it. Is anything upsetting you?
I’m sure I’m just as pissed off as everyone else, but that’s exactly why I like to bring positivity and humor to my art – to fight the fucking Chaos Lords that wreak havoc on our lives. It’s kind of a reminder to myself not to take it all too seriously and just enjoy the ride. There’s enough shit out there to watch without me blocking your eyeholes.

Which artists have inspired you in developing your individual illustration style?
I got into art through skateboarding so you were a huge influence on me early on along with the likes of Ed Templeton and Neckface. I’ve also fallen in love with a lot of fantasy artists like Skinner, Moebius, Frazetta, and really anyone who draws crazy creatures.

If you could work on a project with an unlimited budget, what would you come up with?
I grew up watching cartoons, so this is probably high on my bucket list now. I’d love to create a complete universe around my characters and see what they’re up to on any given day: follow some goblins as they play pranks in a dungeon, watch some cultists door-to-door trying to recruit new members the end times. You know, everyday events in the Barge realm.

If you had a time machine, what advice would you give to the 12-year-old version of yourself?
Follow your stoke! It’s too easy to look at your dream job and think: That doesn’t happen to people like me. It kept me from really getting out there and trying until I gave up that mindset. Oh, and don’t trust farts!

Who would win in a fight between Harry Potter and Gandalf?
Gandalf all day man! He fights armies of orcs and giant demons while Harry, uh… does his homework?! And how are you going to call yourself a wizard without a long, magical beard? I mean, I don’t have either, but that’s just genetics. Thanks father!

Check out more of Dakota’s art on Instagram: @Wizard of Barge or visit his page: Wizardofbarge.com

Sadly, while Elizabeth Talford Scott’s unwavering contributions to fiber art deserve wide acclaim, she is underappreciated outside of Baltimore, where she lived from the early 1940s until her death in 2011 at the age of 95. She has not been acclaimed in the landmark travel exhibition Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power, 2017-20, which debuted at Tate Modern in London, or in the more recent survey Called to Create: Black Artists of the American South”, 2022–23, at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. An extensive but concise retrospective covering nearly two decades of Scott’s textile-based oeuvre in thirteen extraordinary works partially rectifies these omissions.

Scott was born in 1916 on a plantation near Chester, South Carolina to a family of sharecroppers. He learned to reuse discarded materials and learned to quilt at an early age. These indelible lessons formed the cornerstone of her unhindered art, which is often adorned with a catholic array of brilliant objects. Gaze at the iridescent surfaces of these intricately stitched fusions and behold a tactile hodgepodge sure to satisfy even the most voracious viewer. Take The Whosit family, 1995, a five-foot-tall egg ecstatically adorned with patterned fabrics, buttons, beads, stones, shells, sequins, and other odds and ends. Or consider Upside down, 1992, another rampant, wall-mounted and trinket-laden piece of a similar size. As with fractals, the more you look, the more there is to discover. The visual feast continues, reaching a celebratory crescendo Birthday, 1997, which is adorned with dozens of faux pearls along its wavy edge. Playing by their own rules, Scott’s Byzantine creations delight in a kind of unfettered abundance that’s bountiful, dizzying, and truly unforgettable.

— Andy Martinelli Clark