By Lauren Kaufmann
This exhibition is evidence of the venerable museum’s interest in expanding its collections so that more voices and perspectives can contribute to our understanding of our own complicated history.
Counter History: Contemporary Art from the Collection, MFA, 465 Huntington Ave, Boston, ongoing

Guernica to Wounded Knee, Stan Natchez, 2012. Photo: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
The Museum of Fine Arts Boston has come a long way since opening its Art of the Americas wing in 2010. In the past fifteen years, our understanding of the world has changed in dramatic ways and, in that time, the MFA has acquired works of art that mirror a more nuanced, more expansive, and more diverse, view of the world.
In Counter History: Contemporary Art from the Collection, the MFA presents a portion of its contemporary collection, including several recently acquired works of art that reflect the museum’s shifting priorities. More than half of the pieces were acquired after 2010. The exhibition focuses on what the museum calls under-recognized experiences—events from the past that contrast with traditional historical narratives, particularly those of minority communities.
Here we see artwork by Indigenous artists, Black artists, feminists, as well as artists from Colombia, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Ethiopia, Pakistan, and Puerto Rico. Their work addresses a myriad of topics, including the history of enslaved people, colonial rebellions, racial oppression, gay rights, and women’s rights. Much of the art tackles disturbing truths about the behavior of our country and the world. Uncomfortable subject matter that the MFA had previously ignored is now on prominent display.
In 2005, the MFA established the Heritage Fund for a Diverse Collection, aimed at acquiring artwork by American artists of color. Through contributions by private donors, the fund has acquired more than 300 works by American artists of color. Several of the pieces in this exhibition were paid for with money from the fund.
Counter History represents a major achievement for the museum. When the Art of the Americas wing opened fifteen years ago, I remember walking through the 20th century galleries, looking for work by artists of color. There was a small painting by Horace Pippin and another by Jacob Lawrence, and a couple more. The paucity of representation was striking, and so, I am thrilled that, in the intervening years, the museum has acquired numerous works to fill in that gap.

Grater Divide, Mona Hatoum, 2002. Patinated mild steel. Photo: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
While some of the works here are clear, bold statements, others are more subtle, as is the case with Steve Locke’s painting, Homage to the Auction Block #70, from 2020. On first glance, this painting is reminiscent of the work of German artist Josef Albers (1888-1976), whose geometric compositions explored the interaction of color. In a twist on Albers’ theme, Locke places a form that resembles a slave auction block in the center of the painting. If you don’t look closely it is easy to miss the shape, and meaning, of the form. But once you see it, Locke’s message about America’s slave trade comes through. This work was acquired in 2021, a year after the murder of George Floyd.
Kiki Smith’s wall sculpture, Lilith, from 1994, was acquired by the MFA in 1996. Over the years, it’s been displayed in various locations throughout the museum. It remains a powerful piece, with a stirring backstory. According to Jewish lore, Lilith was Adam’s first wife; she is known for her refusal to comply with her husband’s wishes, landing her in the wilderness for the rest of her life. While some see Lilith’s expulsion from Eden as proof that she was evil, others interpret her actions as a sign of feminist power. Smith’s depiction shows Lilith crouching, with her legs tucked beneath her torso looking over her shoulder. It makes you wonder: is she about to pounce, or is she simply conserving her energy for a life of resistance? Either way, it’s a strong statement about the fierce determination of one woman—and, more broadly, all women who resist the roles society imposes on them.
Betye Saar, a member of the Black Arts Movement (1965-1975) in California, drew on found objects to create collages. In The Good Old Days, 1976, Saar layers a ladies’ leather glove, a pressed butterfly, and a faded photograph of a group of Black women, dating from the turn-of-the-century. The title of the piece may refer to Saar’s memories of the past while also calling into question the role of Black women in American culture.

Iago’s Mirror, Fred Wilson, 2009. Murano glass, plywood, metal pins and hardware. Photo: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
In Iago’s Mirror, 2009, Fred Wilson uses glass to produce an elaborate black mirror that reflects the story of Shakespeare’s Othello. The tragedy revolves around the conflict between Othello, a general of African or Arab descent, and his trusted friend Iago. When Othello passes over Iago for a promotion, Iago seeks revenge by planting doubt in Othello’s mind about his wife’s fidelity. Iago uses racial insults to suggest that Othello’s skin color makes him inferior. In Wilson’s work of art, the mirror is black, not the usual reflective silver, insinuating that lies about people of color have obscured our history.
On first encountering Mona Hatoum’s work, Grater Divide, from 2002, the gigantic cheese grater struck me as a delightful piece of whimsy. But Hatoum uses the everyday kitchen item as a symbol of the walls that divide and separate people, at times stirring up violence between people of different backgrounds or beliefs. Hatoum’s back story is significant: she was born in Beirut after her parents fled from their home in Palestine in 1948; in 1975, Hatoum was exiled in London when war erupted in Lebanon. She uses the walls and divisions of this sculpture to express her personal experience of displacement.
Sandow Birk’s piece — White Out: A Monumental Arch to American History, 2021 — is a tribute to the many people of color who have played key roles in our history. Structured like an elaborate black-and-white comic strip, the piece features well-known figures, such as Frederick Douglass, Duke Ellington, and Marcus Garvey. It also recognizes lesser-known people, including the former slave Tom Molineaux, who knocked out his rival in the first international boxing fight, and Mary Eliza Mahoney, the Black nurse who helped found the American Nurses Association. The banner hanging over the archway reads, “Welcome New Americans.” The message seems innocuous enough, but it’s impossible not to think about the cruel deportations taking place under the current administration.
Several Indigenous artists are represented in the exhibit. In Guernica to Wounded Knee, 2012, Stan Natchez presents a twist on Picasso’s famous 1937 painting, which illustrates the horrors of the Spanish Civil War. Natchez, a member of the Shoshone-Tataviam tribe, focuses on the Wounded Knee Massacre of 1890, in which the U.S. Army killed hundreds of Lakota people, mostly women and children.
Argentinean artist Amalia Pica’s Now Speak! (from 2011) is an interactive lectern designed to encourage museum visitors to participate in civic engagement. As she grew up in Argentina, she became acutely aware of the importance of speaking out against a cruel government. Pica’s voice-activated lectern serves as a vehicle for the public to express their views, either by using their own words or by reciting famous speeches gathered in a binder on the lectern. Thumbing through the notebook, I found excerpts from speeches by James Baldwin, Frederick Douglass, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Bobby Seale, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
There are many more thought-provoking pieces, and the wall text throughout the exhibit is thoughtfully crafted. In one section, the text calls into question the role of museums and government-run archives in determining how to interpret history. Acknowledging that our institutions may not provide a full view of the past, the text credits the insights of artists whose work reflects their personal perspectives, visions that run counter to conventional narratives. It’s a revealing admission because it admits the bias that has guided most museums, including the MFA, regarding their collecting. This exhibition is evidence of the venerable museum’s interest in expanding its collections, so that more voices and perspectives can contribute to our understanding of our own complicated history.
Lauren Kaufmann has worked in the museum field for the past 14 years and has curated a number of exhibitions. She served as guest curator for Moving Water: From Ancient Innovations to Modern Challenges, currently on view at the Metropolitan Waterworks Museum in Boston.