MB: But I never had that idea. But the real marker that I can remember is when I represented the United States in Venice [the Venice Biennale exhibition in 2017]. I really knew that was a mark.
DR: What does it feel like to work on something for quite a while, maybe a year, eighteen months, then you sell it quickly and realize you might never see it again?
MB: The operative word is quickly. If I have some time between making it and selling it, I can slowly mourn the loss. But when it’s sold really fast, I have a little bit of a melancholy.
DR: Did you have a mentor when you were building your career? Are you mentoring others at this stage in your career?
MB: I had several mentors and people, some gallerists, some curators, some artists, some friends, and I try to do the same. I have a foundation and I work with young people. If young artists reach out to me, I take the time to share what I’ve learned along the way.
DR: How would you describe your style of art? What is attractive to you about using a grid in your works of art? Do you use Google Maps? Is city culture a major influence?
MB: Grids are what I call my safety net. A grid underpins everything. That’s important to me.
DR: What types of materials do you try to use on your works? What influences your decision about the materials?
MB: I like paper because it’s very unforgiving and it goes from the high to the low. The Gutenberg Bible is on paper, and then the pad that you’re writing on now is on paper. I love this material that’s both historical and also social.
DR: I read that you used to go to someplace like Lowe’s to buy the paint you use. Is that true?
MB: Home Depot, Lowe’s. I still do.
DR: When you walk in there, do they say, “Hey, here’s a famous artist coming in,” or they don’t know who you are?
MB: They think I’m just a painter. A tall painter. Because I wear painting clothes.
DR: When you get identified with a certain style, is it tempting to try something else after a while, or is it enjoyable and stimulating to continue to refine your existing style?
MB: It’s continually enjoyable to just refine my style. I look at other artists and I love what they do. But I’m still fascinated by what I do.
DR: How does it feel when you have an exhibition and an art critic might not like some of your works? Is it hard to not take that personally?
MB: You always take it personally. You get your feelings hurt, for a few minutes, and then you put your bootstraps back on and you go back and do what you do.
DR: When people criticize what I do, I take it personally only for about fifty years. After about fifty years I forget.
MB: It’s good to let it go.
DR: How difficult is it to prepare for an exhibition of new works of art? Does it take a lot of time to do that?
MB: It’s always difficult. It’s always anxiety-ridden, but I’ve done it enough that I know how to work with the nerves.
DR: How did it feel to win a MacArthur “genius grant”? Did that change your life in any way?
MB: I wouldn’t say it changed my life, but I definitely feel like it gave me a certain amount of economic security.
DR: Did you tell all your friends you won the MacArthur grant or you didn’t have to tell them, they just read about it?
MB: I didn’t tell anybody. If they found out, that’s fine.
DR: How has it felt to represent the United States abroad, such as at the Venice Biennale?
MB: For me it was a wonderful experience. It’s a heavy experience, a heavy burden, but I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it tremendously.
DR: When you were beginning your career, did you feel discrimination because of your race? Do you think you still face racial discrimination?
MB: When you enter into anything, there are always going to be certain biases. Being an abstract painter and not seeing as many African American abstract painters in the field, I thought we should expand it and go back and reclaim some of that history. That’s kind of what I was focusing on.
DR: Do you think there are unique opportunities for artists just getting started in the United States today that might not have existed at other times and places? In other words, is it easier to get started today or is it harder to get started today?
MB: Because of the advent of the Internet there are probably more opportunities. Artists have more ability to get their work out and have people have a conversation about their work. So in some ways it has made it easier, and there are more opportunities today. But in some places, the nonprofits have closed down, which means fewer places to show the work because of the pulling of public funds for arts.
DR: What advice do you give young artists about how to jump-start their careers?
MB: My advice to young artists is to understand that they’re a 1099 employee and not a W-2. You have to be responsible for setting up your studio and retirement and everything. It’s on you.
DR: Are there artists you have particularly admired or been influenced by?
MB: Jack Whitten, absolutely. I would probably say Charles Gaines. Those are the closest to really influencing me.
DR: What is the pleasure of being a visual artist? Do you ever wish you had chosen a different career? Or is this one extremely satisfying?
MB: It kind of chose me. I never thought of myself as being an artist. It really chose me. So, I don’t know, the suit fit.
DR: So you’re happy?
MB: Yes, I’m happy.
DR: Can you explain how difficult it was to produce Pickett’s Charge, which is now on display at the Hirshhorn?
MB: I knew I wanted to make it. I knew I wanted something that felt like paint, but I use paper, so I had to immerse all of this material in water to make it fluid. Then it was just a matter of working with the space, that kind of optics, that cyclorama, that circular space, and then digging into that history. The architecture of the Hirshhorn led me to the making of the work. I don’t think that I would have made Pickett’s Charge if it had not been in this cylinder.
DR: By the way, if there hadn’t been a Pickett’s Charge and Robert E. Lee had won, the Civil War would have been reversed, probably. That’s another matter. Do you own Pickett’s Charge?
MB: I do.
DR: Is it on long-term display there?
MB: Yes, it is.
DR: If somebody comes to you and says, “I’ll pay you $20 million for it,” do you say, “Maybe I won’t lend it forever”? At some point you might want to sell it?
MB: When I made it, it was just an interesting epic work, but now it has such a resonance. I’d really have to think about where I wanted to see that work live long-term.
DR: How long did it take to paint it?
MB: I worked over two years—maybe three, actually.
DR: But you’re working on other projects at the same time?
MB: I set up temporary walls to work on Pickett’s Charge, and I would jump to other works and then always come back to Pickett’s Charge. I love big, epic paintings that you can fall into. I like long, big novels. I like James Michener, those big novels.
DR: Are you working on other epic pieces like that now?
MB: Not at the moment.
DR: What do you ultimately hope, many years down the road, will be your artistic legacy?
MB: A snapshot of the time I lived in.
BILLIE JEAN KING on Tennis and Activism
Sports Icon; Champion of Equality
“Our job is to leave our guts on the court, not only for ourselves, but for them. The audience is everything.”
In nearly all countries, national sports champions tend to become larger-than-life heroes. And the United States is no different in that respect. But in the U.S., we often expect our national stars not only to become international champions in their sport but also to help solve major social challenges (as Jackie Robinson did in breaking the color barrier in major league baseball).
Over the past half century, one such national/international/social-barrie
r-breaking sports champion, and role model, was a tennis player who captured the country’s and the world’s attention in ways unlike most other athletes, male or female: the great tennis star and champion of equality Billie Jean King.
As an athlete, she became one of the world’s finest tennis players, the winner of 39 Grand Slam titles (12 singles titles, 16 doubles titles, and 11 mixed-doubles titles), including a record 20 Wimbledon championships and 3 World TeamTennis titles.
In doing this, she also broke the existing mold for champion tennis players. She came from a blue-collar background, without the resources typically available to championship-level players for training, travel, and equipment.
As an athlete who wanted to change her sport, King was, certainly in the tennis world, in a league of her own. She pushed to create the first women’s tennis tour—the Virginia Slims Circuit—and later she cofounded World TeamTennis, where men and women play together on teams representing various cities.
But her most meaningful achievement in changing the tennis world may well have been her successful fight for equal prize money for women and men at the Grand Slams. No doubt, though, her most visible effort to advance women’s tennis was when she beat, in three straight sets, Bobby Riggs, a former men’s number-one-ranked player and Wimbledon champion, in a highly promoted “Battle of the Sexes,” winning the then-enormous sum of $100,000.
As an athlete who helped change the world, Billie Jean King disclosed, at great personal and professional risk, that she was a lesbian at a time when that was almost never publicly acknowledged by women in sports. And with her disclosure, she fought hard to allay the discrimination then common against gay and lesbian athletes.
While retired from active playing, she is not retired from her pursuit of gender equality and LGBTQ rights, having become a tireless advocate for those issues. Her mark on the sport might be seen in many ways; one quite visible way occurred in 2006 when the United States Tennis Association renamed the site of the U.S. Open as the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center.
This interview took place on September 25, 2018, as part of the Great Americans series at the Smithsonian.
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DAVID M. RUBENSTEIN (DR): You grew up in Long Beach [California], a very nice community. It’s part of L.A. in some ways. When you were growing up, most people who played tennis were from upper-income families. They were country-club members. Your family was not. Your father was a blue-collar worker?
BILLIE JEAN KING (BJK): Right. He was a firefighter.
DR: How did you actually afford the lessons to play tennis, and where did you get the chance to play?
BJK: The reason I was able to play was because it was free and it was accessible. The Parks and Rec Department of Long Beach provided free instruction every week. The second time I picked up a racket, at the end of that I knew I wanted to be number one in the world. My poor mother picked me up. I said, “Mom, I want to be number one in the world!” She’s going, “That’s nice, but you have homework.”
DR: When did you realize you were better than the people you were playing with and that you might actually be good enough to be the best in California, the country, the world?
BJK: When I was thirteen, I saw Althea Gibson play at the Los Angeles Tennis Club. That was kind of the hub for Southern California tennis in those days.
If you can see it, you can be it. And I remember seeing Althea. Now I knew what number one looked like, how good you have to be. I thought, “Wow, I’ve got a lot of work to do!” I just couldn’t wait to go work.
The one thing my dad always taught us was that every generation gets better. I’m looking at how well she plays, and yet I’m younger. “I’m going to have to get better than that to be number one? How am I going to do that?”
It was so inspiring, though. And she’s our Jackie Robinson of tennis. Althea was the first African American to ever win a major. African Americans weren’t allowed to play in any sanctioned tennis tournament until 1950, which is three years after Jackie Robinson had played for the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Then we know about Arthur Ashe, the wonderful Arthur Ashe, who came later, and who won the first Open in which professionals could compete. That was the first time we got paid money to win a tournament that wasn’t under the table. I fought against amateurism. I fought like crazy, got in big trouble for that. But 1968 we finally received a check. At Wimbledon, Rod Laver won men’s singles and won £2,000. Then I won £750 as a woman, and I’m like, “Oh God, not another thing to worry about.”
DR: You were winning tournaments in California, then you’re winning national tournaments. When did you win your first Grand Slam?
BJK: Doubles in 1961. I prefer doubles over singles. I like mixed doubles, then women’s doubles, and then women’s singles. All three experiences bring something different to the table and it’s exciting.
I like collaboration. I grew up in all team sports. Basketball was my first love. I played baseball, but if you’re a girl, they make you go and play softball, which isn’t right either. That’s a whole other discussion. I’ve talked to the Dodgers about that. All these things drive you crazy. Just reverse it. Men, reverse it. You got £750 and I got £2,000. Do you think that’s right? It’s not right. It just isn’t right.
DR: Today many of the leading tennis players do not play doubles or mixed doubles. You played mixed doubles, doubles, and singles, all in the same tournament.
BJK: Yes. I’d be so bored the way they do it.
DR: Why do you think players today who are great players don’t want to play doubles or mixed doubles?
BJK: It’s much more demanding physically than it used to be. But it’s about money, really. Everyone only cares about players in tennis that are great in singles. In the old days, what I call the A players, we played everything.
DR: As you look at your career, who were the best women tennis players you played against, or that you have ever observed?
BJK: It’s all the number ones of each generation. It’d be Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova, who had probably the greatest tennis rivalry of all time. If they had been two men, we would be hearing about it constantly. They had such a contrast of styles. Chris is a baseliner, this one’s a serve-and-volleyer, and they’re just clashing. The contrast of styles was really what made it so interesting.
DR: And what about men players? Who were the greatest singles players?
BJK: Rod Laver’s one of them. Roger Federer, I think, is the all-time great. Rafael Nadal’s right there, just side by side. Jimmy Connors was one guy I loved to go watch. He was so intense. He was crazy. But I love the way he’s competitive. He just shared everything with the people and got them excited. John McEnroe, great hands, great competitor. Probably didn’t take as good care of himself as he could have. He probably could have won a lot more. He stopped winning around twenty-six.
Björn Borg quit at twenty-six. He was a tremendous player. Pete Sampras, unbelievable—best serve ever. Greatest second serve. You’re only as good as your second serve. Andre Agassi, the best returner. But Nadal and Federer—I just think each generation gets better. Same with Steffi Graf, Monica Seles, Martina Hingis, all these great women players.
DR: Let me ask you a few tennis questions as an amateur. I’m not really a great tennis player. Nobody would suspect that I am. So when I watch tennis, I wonder, why do the players bounce the ball? And is there a thing about how many times you’re supposed to bounce it before you serve?
BJK: That is totally up to the person. It’s an inner rhythm. You have to have your rituals. It’s a sense of inner rhythm inside your soul.
I used to bounce it twice. The younger players had to bounce it forever. The women tennis players would sit in the locker room when Jimmy Connors played, and we used to count how many times he bounced the ball. It would be seventeen, eighteen. Now we have a service clock. Aha! Only twenty-five seconds. And the players are having trouble.
It’s like everyone has this inner rhythm. It’s very
ritualistic. And they’ve proven that when you do have your rituals, it helps. If I was really nervous and recognized it, the most important thing was to take ownership and say, “I am nervous.” A lot of players go, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I’d bounce it again twice, and try to really slow down. You really have to understand and be self-aware of what you’re doing.
DR: Do you think the game is better when you have the kind of TV camera that can show you whether a ball is out or not out?
BJK: I love it. It reduces anxiety from the players, but it also helps the lines people. In World TeamTennis this year, we had no lines people, we only had an umpire and the triangulation of twelve different cameras. You’d hear an “out” by a female or a male voice. And it worked out unbelievably. The players would start to argue. They’d show it up on the screen, and they call it right every time, so bad luck. The thing I didn’t like is we’re costing jobs for the lines people. But I prefer this way as far as keeping it absolutely clear in who really won and who didn’t.
DR: With or without the cameras, do you think fighting with the umpires makes a difference? Does it help you, hurt you?
BJK: Some people think it depends on your personality. That’s self-awareness again. Someone like John McEnroe, it got him all hyped up and he played better.
DR: Is there coaching from the sidelines a lot? What can they really tell you? Work harder? Hit the ball harder?
BJK: No, no. Here’s what they do. You can say, “This could be a lob,” or “Go to their forehand,” or “Go to net,” or whatever.
DR: When you’re playing baseball, you can have somebody throwing a ball at one hundred miles an hour and it could hit somebody in the head. People are yelling and screaming. When you’re a tennis player, if anybody says anything when you’re tossing the ball up, people get upset. Why does there have to be so much silence?
BJK: I think tennis has got it all wrong. They think the fans are there to watch them. I tell the players, “No, we’re there to entertain them. Without the fans, we are nothing.” We are entertainers. Our job is to leave our guts on the court, not only for ourselves, but for them. The audience is everything.
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