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BALTIMORE — The Baltimore Museum of Art’s 50th-century retrospective of Joyce J. Scott is an invitation to take a journey into a dream. Those who accept will never forget the beauty and urgency of that dream. The artist some call “The Queen of Baltimore” excels in beading, quilting, printmaking, weaving, and performance. Her work is so mesmerizing that I walked through the exhibit three times, trying to capture every detail, whether wonderful, disturbing, or both.

When I arrived at the exhibition, I was immediately struck by I Call Her Name (2023), a huge, highly intricate sculpture made of undulating beads. I was delighted to discover Monsters, Dragons and Flies (1982), a patchwork quilt Scott created with her late mother, the extraordinary Elizabeth Talford Scott. On the adjacent wall, dancing figures and skeletons are held together by a delicate connective tissue made entirely of beads. More charming traditional patchwork pieces hang from a large, delicate structure overlooking a collection of books, dolls and beaded sugar skulls surrounding an overstuffed patchwork chair. Outside this room are five mannequins dressed in rich draperies. If you look closely, you can see that the mannequins themselves are made of beads. Look behind the mannequins and you’ll see that the exhibition is just beginning.

The primary material for Scott’s embroidery is beads, typically strung together using a technique called mosaic weaving, in which strands of beads are woven together while strung on top of each other. This allows her to improvise during the creative process, creating colorful sculptures and art pieces that are both eye-catching and full of critical social commentary. “These beads have a decorative beauty,” she said in a quote printed on the gallery wall. “They’re shiny, colorful, and sparkly. Because these beads are usually so small, you have to get up close to see them. Then, as people reach for them, I give them a joke.”

Her work is truly stunning. Its decorative appeal draws the viewer into her blistering critique of racism, misogyny, and other social ills. As you approach the shimmering, colorful beads, it often takes a moment to realize that they depict subjects like lynchings, women who have been trafficked and abused, and images of the brutal trauma endured by Rodney King. While the sinuous contours of her figures can enhance their joy and beauty, they can also quickly inspire horror, as in one work where they are sexually assaulted, murdered, and even devoured by a “cannibal watermelon.”

But even when discussing the most difficult topics, Scott uses light touches to engage her audience. In works like Watermelon Eating Man (1986), she plays with words as if they were beads. The wall text next to the work includes another quote from the artist: “I believe that laughter is one of the moments when you are most vulnerable. When you look at tragedy in that vulnerable way, you learn or in some way become a part of something.”

Today, many of us are seeking to understand how art can be a catalyst for change. Joyce J. Scott’s artistry, from her compelling brilliance to her use of comedy and drama to provoke critical discussion, offers many clues.