I think I had struck on a combination of imagery and politics

The words of Faith Ringgold, “I think I had struck on a combination of imagery and politics that worked,” reveal the ancient truth that art is never mere decoration, but a weapon, a banner, and a flame. To unite imagery with politics is to breathe life into vision, to give shape and color to the struggles of the people. Where speeches fade and arguments tire, an image can pierce the heart like an arrow. Thus, Ringgold’s discovery was not a trick of style, but the unlocking of power—the power to make justice visible.

The ancients too understood this marriage of vision and cause. On the walls of Egypt, kings carved their triumphs into stone not merely to adorn, but to declare politics through imagery—to etch into eternity their strength, their right to rule, their victories over enemies. In Greece, the theater gave voice to democracy, weaving social debate into stories that moved the heart. Ringgold walked in this same lineage: the artist as seer, the image as both mirror and trumpet.

History offers us shining examples. Consider the works of Diego Rivera in Mexico. His murals did not merely depict workers in fields and factories—they sanctified them. His imagery transformed the humble into heroes, the common laborer into a figure of dignity and strength. By fusing art with politics, Rivera gave Mexico a vision of itself reborn, a vision more powerful than any manifesto alone. Ringgold too found that when art carries the struggles of a people, it becomes a force that cannot be ignored.

Yet Ringgold’s words also carry humility. She did not claim to invent this union, but to “strike upon” it, as though it had been waiting, hidden in the earth like a vein of gold, until her hands uncovered it. And this is the truth: the joining of imagery and politics has always been the artist’s alchemy, a way to distill outrage into beauty, protest into vision, and despair into hope.

Let the generations remember: art is not only to adorn the palace walls or soothe the wealthy, but to awaken, to challenge, to uplift. When imagery is bound to politics, it ceases to be passive—it becomes living fire. And those who dare to wield it, like Faith Ringgold, step into the ancient role of prophet, giving the people not only words to fight with, but visions to believe in.