The Ideology-Divide:
In June of 1926 The Nation published George Samuel Schuyler’s “The Negro-Art Hokum,” in which he discussed the futility of Black Art in America. Schuyler argued that a person must be completely uninfluenced by American ideals in order to be a Negro artist. Black Art could only exist within the “numerous black nations of Africa.” A week later, The Nation published Langston Hughes’ “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain”, a direct rebuttal to Schuyler’s essay, arguing that Black Art in America was of value as long as artists expressed their “individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame.” Hughes’ case suggests the American Black Artist can exist, as long as he or she is rooted in African moral values.

Hughes’ image of the Negro artist required non-American ideals and had to be against American standardization. Hughes romanticizes a Negro artist who was lower-class, non-materialistic, and did not care for white convictions. Artwork by the White American was already prevalent throughout the country. Schuyler’s and Hughes’ essays became the preeminent forces driving Black artwork in America and made way for one of the biggest movements in Black Art America had ever experienced. But what of the artists born into both worlds, the artists who had equal amounts of ‘black’ and ‘white’ blood coursing through their veins?

In Schuyler’s eyes, mulattos were never good representations of Negro artistry, while Hughes’ vision concedes the opportunity, at least. To Hughes, those who identified with both white and black culture could take on the image of the Negro Artist, but only if they whole-heartedly embraced ‘Black ideals,’ and abandoned their white ancestry and disregarded white morals and beliefs. In the face of oppression, mulattos trying to be Negro artists had to embody a standard – dictated by the majority – for the sake of art.

Mulattos faced alienation by both those of exclusively white ancestry and those of exclusively black ancestry. Plum Bun’s Angela and Autobiography’s unnamed narrator are caught between the Black world and the White world. The ability to inhabit either – while liberating in a sense – makes it difficult for the artist to acquire a sense of Self.

At the outset of Plum Bun, Mattie, the light-skinned mother of Angela wants her daughter to become a great artist; Junius, her dark-skinned father, opposes that wish and insists upon giving Angela "a good, plain education." Angela inadvertently blends together artistic sensibility with material comfort as she attempts to accommodate the wishes of both her parents.

Angela's development as an artist is constantly restricted by her “invisible blood.” In her hometown of Philadelphia Angela rejects the community-oriented and racially loyal realm for the Negro Artist to exist in – a realm embraced by her sister, Virginia, who is darker-skinned. When a friend suggests to Angela that racial experience enhances artistic growth, she responds with frankness: “Oh, don't drag me into your old discussion. I'm sick of this whole race business... No, I don't think being colored in America is a beautiful thing. I think it's nothing short of a curse.” Angela has, by then, dropped any pretense of being a Negro Artist. She finds existence as a White Artist is a less troublesome life-style.

Angela experiences both her greatest satisfaction and her most painful racial rejection in her beloved art class in Philadelphia. Although her teachers assure her she will "find artistic folk the broadest, most liberal people in the world," they react coldly when they learn of her black lineage. A more public humiliation at a movie theater follows, and Angela grows more cynical in the face of her sister's calm acceptance of blackness. Angela's decision to pass emerges from such moments of confusion. These moments of confusion are what make a mixed colored person question the idea of being a Negro Artist.

Hughes Nation essay mentions that the budding Colored Artist’s work, has at least done this: “it has brought him [her] forcibly to the attention of his [her] own people among whom for so long, unless the other race had noticed him [her] before hand, he [she] was a prophet with little honor.” This happened to Angela within her group of people with differing racial backgrounds: this was her race—the group embodiment of joined races.

One of Hughes’ most important points in his essay is that the artist “must be free to choose what does, certainly, but he [she] must also never be afraid to do what he [she] might choose. (38)” Angela blossoms into this depiction as an artist.

Like Angela, the ex-colored man, in his autobiography, doesn’t create a role for himself in the beginning of the novel. He tries to assimilate by taking on certain characteristics that don’t necessarily embody who he is. Unlike Angela, the ex-colored man can’t create a sense of self at the end of the novel; his art diminishes and he finally burrows himself into a life of white solace.

Born in Georgia, the son of a prominent white man and his well-kept mistress, whose "skin was almost brown, (12)" he is moved, while still a small child, with his mother to Connecticut, where they are established in a comfortable cottage. He has a decent upbringing with a piano and books available in the home. This is where his artistic career begins. But neither his quick mind nor his musical talent can shelter him from trauma when he discovers his racial identity through a humiliating episode at school. His father visits their house when the boy is twelve, but decreases his contact with them afterwards, not even responding several years later when the mother appeals to him in her last illness. She dies soon after her son's graduation from high school, leaving him quite alone in the world.

His adult life is listless until he picks up playing ragtime jazz piano. Only as a musician does he form a goal for his existence: to take on the role of a Negro Artist and "go back into the very heart of the South to live among the people, and drink in my inspiration first hand.”

The consequences for both the ex-Colored Man and Angela – as they navigate their respected chosen paths – reflect the pain of inner loneliness and society-wide racial inequality. Plum Bun and The Autobiography of an Ex-colored Man highlight the plight of those who yearn to belong, as they struggle to identify themselves with any of the groups they have half-admission into. Redman Fauset and Weldon Johnson deliver on two novels of collective historical conscience.