The burlesque continues on the right side of the mural, where things get even weirder. A black girl fellates a young white boy, who raises his hands to the sky in a kind of benediction. A naked figure floats overhead, held aloft by a bloated, balloonlike penis. Below, a slave woman lifts her leg and drops two babies on the ground like turds—a grim bit of slapstick that alludes to the monstrous economy of slavery as a self-reproducing labor force.

Here, and in all her work, Walker plays with racial stereotypes—mammies, pickaninnies, slave masters, Southern belles, Uncle Toms—concocting X-rated scenarios that viscerally evoke the obscenity of the "peculiar institution" and its continuing aftermath. Describing her work as "two parts research and one part paranoid hysteria," she draws inspiration from a variety of sources: minstrel shows, abolitionist testimonials, slave narratives, and historical novels, particularly Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (1936) and Thomas Dixon Jr.'s The Clansman: An Historical Romance of the Ku Klux Klan (1905), both of which are evoked in the title of this piece. And yet, as poet Kevin Young observes in the show's catalog, "Walker is less an artist of history … than a historian of fantasy." Her imagery is voluptuous and shameful; it embarrasses and offends. And it refuses to let anyone—black or white—off the hook.


Kara Walker, 1994. Installation view at the Walker Art Center, courtesy Sikkema Jenkins & Co. Photograph by Gene Pittman/the Walker Art Center.


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