Staring out of the entrance of the Katherine E. Nash Gallery is a portrait of George Floyd’s face painted in vibrant blues set against a rough white background. To the left of the portrait stands the words “SAY HIS NAME” in the same blue tones.

The piece, “Blues for George” by Twin Cities multidisciplinary artist Seitu Jones, is one of many plywood murals that appeared across the Twin Cities during the 2020 Minneapolis Uprising.

A collection of these preserved murals is now on display at the Nash Gallery in the University of Minnesota Regis Center for Art — East as part of its newest exhibition, “Art and Artifact.”

The exhibition showcases the efforts of grassroots organization Memorialize the Movement (MTM) and its executive director, Leesa Kelly, to preserve the murals and by extension the communities they sustained during the turmoil of the Uprising.

“What Leesa has done here is rescue a set of national treasures,” Jones said in his artist talk accompanying the exhibition. “Before coming here, I did not know that (“Blues for George”) still existed.”

The Uprising came in the wake of Floyd’s murder by Minneapolis police, a manifestation of the anger, generational and systemic trauma, grief, and fear that brewed in the Twin Cities during the first months of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Businesses scrambled to board up their windows to protect from looting, but just as quickly as the plywood went up, murals bloomed across them.

“It was a beacon of light in the darkest of times,” Kelly said in her artist talk.

Some of the murals on display are more composed, others are simple messages scrawled ruggedly in black paint across the wood.

“#Prosecute the police,” reads one message by an unidentified artist, beads of dripping paint still hanging from some of the letters.

Other messages acted as means of communication between businesses and community members. 

One chilling message reads: “Do not burn, immigration lawyers.” Many similar messages appeared on BIPOC-owned businesses as sigils of protection.

Another piece is a large board with a door handle screwed into it and various messages of resistance scrawled across it. The plaque next to it describes the piece as a body shield used during the Uprising to protect from police brutality.

Regardless of artistic complexity or original purpose, the murals serve as reminders of the most impactful period in recent Twin Cities history, as well as the long history of systemic racism that has allowed for the murder of Black people by police without recourse.

“It was born in protest and should be honored as such,” Kelly said.

Kelly spearheaded the movement to collect and preserve the murals in the months following the Uprising when the plywood started to come down and there was no clear destination for them. 

Kelly began with collecting the murals in her garage, then raised money for MTM to rent a space at the Northrup King Building in Northeast Minneapolis and store them there. Since its founding, MTM has collected and preserved over 1,000 plywood murals, according to its website.

According to Kelly, MTM saved the murals from destruction or from sitting in the basements of museums, spaces where Black people are sorely underrepresented.

“Since 2020, I have learned that five percent of all conservators, less than seven percent of all historians, and four percent of all curators in the United States are Black,” Kelly said. “That means that if a museum had collected this art, there would likely only be one Black person, if that, in the whole institution who could tell this story, if they were even given the opportunity to do so.”

“Art and Artifact” is Black history honored, curated and showcased by Black people. Debut Curator and University of Minnesota graduate Amira McLendon said the show represents “the legacy of Black art as a form of activism.”

“Liberation is multifaceted, and art has the power to disrupt, to challenge and to heal,” McLendon said.

Although the murals are displayed outside of their original context, the array of emotions they hold seep into the viewer as they move through the gallery, regardless of who they are and where they were at the time of the Uprising.

“I’ve heard the word sacred a lot, and that’s how it feels to be in there,” said McLendon’s friend Mildred Agyapong.

In the middle of the main gallery space rises the iconic wooden fist sculpture by Jordan Powell-Karis, originally built at the site of Floyd’s murder at what is now George Floyd Square at the corner of East 38th Street and Chicago Avenue.

It’s one thing to describe such a powerful sight, and it’s another to see a photo of it through a screen. 

“Viewing them through a screen feels distinctly distant,” McLendon said.

Everyone should visit “Art and Artifact” at least once before it closes on Dec. 7, as it is truly not enough to read about it. 

“Art and Artifact” demands to be experienced.