Jabari Jefferson's Sacred Spaces at Banneker-Douglass-Tubman Museum Annapolis, Maryland

Jabari Jefferson’s Sacred Spaces, curated by Martina Dodd. Banneker-Douglass-Tubman Museum. Photo: Mary Ella Jourdak

By CLARE GEMIMA 

Jabari Jefferson’s Sacred Spaces, curated by Martina Dodd at the Banneker-Douglass-Tubman Museum in Annapolis, Maryland, is an unflinching study in historical disruption and spiritual assertion. On view from February 8 to December 30, 2025, Jefferson’s debut museum exhibition occupies the former Mt. Moriah African Methodist Episcopal Church—now the state’s official museum of African American history—and repurposes its architectural sanctity into a site of radical image-making and ancestral invocation. Comprising over a dozen mixed media works that recast Black historical figures through a devotional, cosmological lens, Jefferson works across oil, soil, clothing, discarded crafts, and paper ephemera to build “living time capsules.” His compositions draw from the radial structures of stained glass windows, where a central figure anchors a field of orbiting, coded fragments. Ranging in scale and dimension, these pieces challenge the fixedness of historical narrative through meaningful accumulation, deliberate rupture, and revitalised symbolism. 

The conversation that follows centers on two axis works within Sacred Spaces—The Legend of General Tubman the Conductor and The Legacy of Benjamin BlackAMoore Banneker— which were developed in tandem as conceptual counterweights. The pair articulate Jefferson’s interests in dualities of gendered power, historical reinvention,and the architecture and politics of cultural memory. “I wanted Harriet to feel softer, nurturing, and pretty,” he told me, “juxtaposed with Banneker’s respectable and fierce presence… Everything is very intentional.”

Clare Gemima: When you and I stood in front of The Legend of General Tubman the Conductor, you spoke about the hesitation you felt in taking on this work—partly due to your resistance to portraiture, but more so because of the immense cultural weight of representing Harriet Tubman (1822 - 1913). How did you navigate portraying her without relying on the familiar narrative of burden and martyrdom, but instead as a luminous, self-liberated leader, a master navigator, spiritual force, and enduring symbol of Black sovereignty?

Jabari Jefferson: Symbolism is a significant tool in my practice. The subconscious which makes up the majority  of the brain's processing ability only understands symbols, repetition, and trauma. We have all been conditioned to see historical figures in a very specific perspective since elementary school. I believe this dogmatic perspective minimizes the empathy, inspiration, and sense of connection a viewer might feel toward these demigod-like personas—reducing relatability to skin tone alone. The power of an artist is their ability to take the reins, and change a viewer's perception. The artist can say “out with the old and in with the new” and normalize a reformed interpretation overnight. Corporate giants do this all the time with logo rebrands every decade or so, although when it comes to historical figures that play a massive role in shaping this country, that same fluid nuance doesn't seem to follow suit. 

I spent a good amount of time studying every image reference that was available for Harriet Tubman. I soon realized that the majority of  images that we are most familiar with are the same three archetypal  images re-rendered and re-edited. At that point I knew my strategy would be to create the exact opposite impression of her. This is where the hesitancy and apprehension crept in, because I became aware of potential consequences. Psychologically tampering with a community’s heroine could be perceived as disrespectful, blasphemous, or unnecessary.  At the very least, I was hesitant to represent her inaccurately through unsuccessful portraiture techniques, and confronted many internalized questions along the way. She had never been depicted in amour before... could that be perceived as too masculine? She had never  been depicted wearing a general’s soldier hat...would that be perceived as historically inaccurate? I chose to represent her as a younger woman, to highlight earlier chapters in her life as she evolved into herself...could that depiction be a barrier for the viewer? She has never been synonymous with public beauty or femininity...could these details make her unrecognizable?

These are some of the risks I battled with, and I had to rely purely on courage and intentionality. I felt that this amount of effort was worth it –she is worth it, and her legacy is worth it. I want the viewers to see themselves, their mothers, sisters, friends, wives, and neighbors in her. To see her as a figure both familiar and accessible to the new millennium, yet simultaneously deified.

Clare Gemima: At the lower center of the work, you’ve embedded the “Monkey Wrench” quilt code which was historically used to signal that escape was near and that one should begin gathering the tools, knowledge, and resolve to flee. The term also referred to blacksmiths who discreetly passed along information about activities taking place in the Underground Railroad. How did you approach integrating encoded language of resistance into this composition, and what does it mean to reinscribe these symbols within the space of contemporary abstraction?

Jabari Jefferson: From the very beginning, I knew this canvas would focus on language. Before Harriet Tubman was a subject, I  knew I wanted a piece that paid homage to the indigenous code of  language, and its connection to modern day slang popularised by contemporary African Americans. For example, my initial starting point was the term “You Straight?” It's known in the Black community that this one phrase could  mean a multitude of things that could be perceived as foreign to those outside of the community. The question “You Straight?” could mean: How have you been? You’re welcome. Did you get enough? You are ok! No need to apologize. Do you have a problem? Do you need money? This form of slang is coded symbolism that has been used since indigenous periods. The same technology of language was used for survival during periods of captivity that abolitionists relied on to complete successful missions of humanitarian rescues. It was at this moment throughout my process that I realised Harriet Tubman’s coded quilting communication and mastery navigation would become central to this artwork. What I am most pleased about is that I remained true to my initial inspiration and vision without compromise, and successfully found historical relevance for a greater educational experience.

The Legend of General Tubman The Conductor, 2025. Oil, paper collage, clothes, soil, found objects on canvas. (reproduction of The Man with the Golden Helmet [c. 1650] by  Rembrandt). 72 x 72 in. Photo: Micah E Wood.

Clare Gemima: In The Legacy of Benjamin BlackAMoore Banneker, you reframe Holbein’s portrait of Henry VIII—an icon of European power—by placing Benjamin Banneker (1731 - 1806) at its center. A self-taught mathematician, astronomer, and almanac-maker born free in Maryland, Banneker is positioned not just as an individual genius, but as a descendent of the Moors (8th–15th century) and Dogon peoples (13th century-), African civilizations that advanced astronomy, architecture, and spiritual knowledge, who shaped not only empires, but the very foundations of science and cosmology. How does your knowledge of these specific lineages shape your depiction of Banneker, and how do collaged textiles and excerpts from books help translate that history?

Jabari Jefferson: I've always been inspired by the Black Africans Moors and their lost legacy that influenced the globe. The Moors are most known for ruling and civilizing Europe for over 700 years. They were also the  first people to navigate the continental Oceans, establish Universities, champion the role of monarchy in rulership, and introduce architectural innovative marvels like castles and cathedrals. They were some of the first to perfect astronomy, astrology, mathematics, music, theater, and community hygiene sanitation methods. This legacy inspired the world we know today, and what we consider European excellence such as the entire Renaissance and Gothic period. They even have roots that connect them to smaller African tribes such as the Dogon, as well as the priesthood of the fallen Egyptian empire. When it comes to African American history and historical figures we have this habit of only focusing on singular figures, as if rare phenomenons that were unusual or independently gifted. Academia rarely connects these figures to a larger group of people, customs, or cultures.  I felt this painting was a perfect opportunity to focus on the heritage of a group of people, using the protagonist of a familiar figure. Benjamin Banaker is a known international figure of American 18th century history who shares a bloodline to the Moors through his grandmother. I wanted to present this American icon in a new light. I chose to make him the face of the Moor's legacy and its European influence. 

Clare Gemima: You mentioned that The Legend of General Tubman the Conductor and The Legacy of Benjamin BlackAMoore Banneker were developed in tandem, and “read off each other.” How did working on them simultaneously shape your formal decisions or thematic direction for each? Were you consciously navigating the interplay between Tubman’s quiet, spiritual authority and Banneker’s commanding, masculine presence as you moved between both canvases?

Jabari Jefferson: Definitely. I wanted to be intentional about separating masculine and feminine energies in each canvas.  I wanted Harriet to feel softer, nurturing, and pretty; juxtaposed with Banneker’s  respectable, and fierce presence. The two are never depicted in this manner. With Harriet being a master navigator, I wanted the canvas to feature collected dirt from an array of communities across Maryland. With Banneker, I wanted to use an imperial black, so I utilized collected soil to pay homage to the Moors in which modern day European culture grew from. Everything is very intentional. 

The Legacy of Benjamin BlackAMoore Banneker, 2025. Oil, paper collage, clothes, soil, found objects on canvas.  (Reproduction of  Portrait of Henry VIII [1536] by Hans Holbein the Younger). 72 x 72 in. Photo: Micah E Wood.

Clare Gemima: Much of your work is built around what you described as an “orbit”—a central figure surrounded by symbolic fragments that represent aspects of their life and legacy. You’ve also spoken about studying cathedrals and stained glass windows to create the illusion of light and layered narrative. What kind of storytelling becomes possible through your elected structure?

Jabari Jefferson: I chose a Gothic-style rose stained glass window as the framework for my storytelling. With a background in film directing, I was drawn to its aesthetic clarity and narrative potential. The radial composition allows a central character to remain the focal point, while supporting complementary micro-stories that orbit around them that dont ever compete nor become visually distracting. It allows me to present supporting ideas as well as provide nuance to traditional portraiture techniques that could always use a refresh.

Clare Gemima: The soil you’ve used in both the Tubman and Banneker pieces differ in origin. I’m curious how you go about sourcing this natural material, and how its inclusion within your works enable different registers of Black and Indigenous futurity, particularly in relation to the land-based knowledge systems of the Maryland region?

Jabari Jefferson: One of my favorite aspects of mixed media is that all tangible objects in the world become a potential source of material. It elevates me to rely on the literal, and to not be purely representational. I don't have to just talk about a location, I can add the location in the work. I don't have to just represent a group of people, I can literally include a piece of their lived experience in the work. This transforms my canvases and sculptures into living time capsules with real history archived within them. I don't have to merely refer to Maryland, I can include Maryland. The same dirt and soil we interact with in our contemporary lives will go on to live in that work forever, much like the spirits of the Maryland figures I am representing.

I am also really big on the exchange of energy. Studying the African Yoruba tribe, I was inspired by what they refer to as Dirt Magic. The concept believes that if you take dirt or soil from a specific region, the energy that the dirt occupies transfers with it. For example, if you take dirt from hospital grounds and bring it to your home, you are transferring the energy of health and healing. If you take dirt located at a financial bank site, you transfer wealth and financial prosperity. I applied similar concepts to the dirt found in local communities, drawing a connection between the land itself and the legacy of these African American Maryland juggernauts.

It Takes A Village, 2023. Oil, acrylic, paper collage, clothes, found objects on canvas. 96 x 72 in. Photo: Micah E Wood.

Clare Gemima: You described incorporating overlooked or unsold crafts from local stores —textiles, decorative objects, and everyday items—into your compositions. How do these types of materials complicate traditional ideas of authorship and artistic value, and how do they expand your sense of what something “sacred” can hold and honor?

Jabari Jefferson: I like your use of the term complicate. I believe the direction of art should complicate preconceived understandings, approaches, and philosophies of art making. What one person may call used-junk, I see as contemporary culture filled with emotional energy bestowed upon it from its previous owner – a tool ready to be used. One person could perceive this reusable craft-like approach as folk art or kitsch, but I see it as a superior form of alchemy. A skill necessary to have as we move into an oversaturated, mass-produced world. From that perspective, my art is very sacred indeed, it holds spirits of living humanity. 

Clare Gemima: You talked about leaving a “20% airiness” —a deliberate gap for viewers to bring their own meaning and interpretation to each of your individual pieces. What does that space represent for you as an artist working with sensitive histories and community memory, and how do you guard it against being flattened by institutional interpretation or overexposure?

Jabari Jefferson: What we refer to as art is far more superior than any institutional interpretation. I believe an institution's role is to “try” their best to explain what can not always be explained...something that may not even need an explanation for that matter.  My hope is that my work will always have an air of mystery to it –aspects of it that words wouldn’t be able to provide justice. If everything is always 100 % understandable, it's no longer art, it’s “a successful billboard.” My works are designed for intentional interpretation. Like the jazz improvisational ballads of a John Coltrane solo. Take what you want from it. You’ll remember the experience no matter what. 

Clare Gemima: You told me you no longer wait for the art world’s permission to engage in ancestral knowledge, mysticism, and African technologies. What gave you the confidence to claim this for your show at The Banneker-Douglass-Tubman Museum, and what do you hope viewers are challenged to reckon with when they encounter the depth and conviction of your multi-layered works?

Jabari Jefferson: In my earlier years of art making I was burdened with the fear of tampering with the “rules” of what the art world would accept as successful. Anxiety, unsureness, and desperation led this pony-and-horse show, and my artistic abilities trailed behind their Wizard of OZ-like leadership. I quickly realised the wizard was a fraud. All that to say, I am grateful for learning that I can do whatever I desire. To further elaborate, do whatever I’d want to the point that I tap into a type of “perceived ridiculousness.” It's been taught that it's ridiculous to assume a cut up discarded children’s lunch bag will end up being shown in an institutional museum, let alone be labelled as fine art. It's ridiculous to put Benjamin Banneker on the body of King Henry VIII. It's ridiculous to present Harry Tubman as an attractive Goddess, yet I did, and I thoroughly enjoyed doing so.

I challenge my viewers to feel. Don't think, just enjoy the safe space that was intentionally left for you to reinterpret and reimagine. You are in a Sacred Space.

I Want To Be An Artist When I Grow Up, 2023. Acrylic, paper collage, clothes, books, found objects. 72 x 72 in. Photo: Micah E Wood.

Jabari Jefferson’s Sacred Spaces showing at Banneker-Douglass-Tubman Museum, 84 Franklin St, Annapolis, Maryland,  will run to December 30, 2025.