ANDREW COURTNEY
WESPAC LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
By Doris Bittar
Andrew’s accomplishments in the arts and documentary are well known, especially his witnessing of the erased and marginalized communities he often documented, lived with, and sometimes collaborated with. Among his ethnographic projects (there are many shown on his website) my favorite and most compelling is his documentation of the African Palestinian. No other artist has done such an exhaustive image-text compilation anchored in artistry, sensitivity and a desire to teach. It is a book, a website, and a film. In fact, those photographs have been added to the anthropological Museum of Us collection in San Diego where I live.
Andrew was a learner, not only a teacher. He explored every angle and also humanity’s fragility. He mixed skepticism in his gut-heart. Gut-heart means to me that his brain is both in his head and abdomen, along with his heart or sense of compassion. Andrew had to suspend his ego and push out the distracting egos of others to find the center of connection to those who could not express their humanity.
Andrew’s artistry powerfully combines concept, artistry, and insight into all of his endeavors whether it was photography, painting, or ceramics. It is not an easy thing to do. He does it without preaching or falling between the cracks of art making and politics.
Through image and language, Andrew tunes into how others before him came to understand art and what the ingredients may be. He always stayed on the edge of new art and the fresh thinking behind it. He did not repeat himself and he held other artists and his students to that standard, too.
Andrew was also my high school art teacher. My family had just moved from Massachusetts because my father worked in New York City like so many families in Westchester County. What I learned, above all, in Mr. Courtney’s classroom was to be skeptical. Over my lifetime, I gingerly mixed my skepticism with thoughts and emotion and do so to this day. Curiosity, questioning, and following their leads was essential. Curiosity was the motivation for making art and seeking traditional or alternate or mixed means and diverse ways. Designated talent and praise were not the motivators to trust; not for the long run; not for a healthy and meaningful life.
Andrew’s photographs are not purely ethnographic. His portraits showed people as they are, but also told their narratives through writing but most often the knobby hands – gesturing or still – each vein and bone embody a parable. Each face was embedded with honor and implicit permission. Adnrew knew he had to get permission from the sitter. Eye contact, a getsure, if language was a barrier, was always established. Respect was always established.
One photo that Andrew shared with us in class back in 1972-1973 was of a little school child’s face peering through a hazy rounded window of a school bus in Havana, Cuba.
During our school breaks we knew Mr. Courtney could be anywhere, in Cuba, Belfast, or Nicaragua. Eventually, he regularly visited Palestine, Lebanon where I am from, Syria and other places close to my heart. We were delighted by his photos and hoped that he would share them with us upon his return.
Andrew taught me, not only skepticism, but to place trust in my emotional path and journey on this earth. This lifelong pursuit of what really matters allowed me to mix media and metaphor. Andrew’s voice often accompanies me in my studio, my activism, and my life. He has been an external and internal guide.
In the classroom at Woodlands High School was an experiment of ethnicities and abilities. A Black photographer could paint a split personality abstraction right next to a Jewish potter who also worked with creating a mosaic from scraps of leather. Next to them were White and Italian kids from diverse ethnic and economic backgrounds, White working class and Black professional class, both, who may want to collaborate, too or drive to New York City together. Outside our classroom, there was more tension between the racial and economic groups, but inside Mr. Courtney’s utopia shit was happening.
For many of us, it provided a template with which to live by. And so many of us as we grew up lived that utopia or at least strived to in an unforgiving world. My husband and I met at this same high school. We continue to spread the passion, experiment, and methods we learned from Andrew and other like minded teachers in our missioned corner of Westchester County. We have spread out but never forget our journey-path.
