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Betye Saar, a Los Angeles artist who transformed collections of bigoted bric-à-brac — Sambo dolls, ceramic mammies and crude renderings of pickaninnies — into potent works of assemblage that mined the searing history of race in the United States, and whose works influenced generations of artists, has died. She was 99.

Saar died in her sleep — just a few days short of her 100th birthday — in Los Angeles, her longtime gallerist Julie Roberts at Robert Projects said. Saar’s death was confirmed by her publicist Hannah Gottlieb-Graham.

“Betye Saar was one of the greatest artists of our time, and it has been an immense honor to work with her for nearly 20 years,” Roberts said. “Her singular vision transformed the course of contemporary art, and her legacy will continue to inspire generations of artists, scholars, and audiences around the world.”

A diminutive woman with a low-key manner that belied a steely resolve, Saar was known for combing garage sales, flea markets and junk piles for objects that she employed in collages and assemblages large and small. These explored difficult aspects of American history — including slavery and Jim Crow — but also touched on more personal themes of family, memory, magic and spirituality.

“My work has to do with recycling,” she told a documentary crew in the 1970s. “Each item I collect has a certain energy from its previous function that carries over into its new use.”

Artist Betye Saar in her Laurel Canyon home in 2016.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

In a 1984 profile, Times art writer Suzanne Muchnic described Saar as an artist who used found objects in a way that “draws on the power of mystery, the hurt of discrimination and the authenticity of individual vision.”

As Saar’s 100th birthday approached, her work and its groundbreaking importance were celebrated afresh in a slew of articles, including two recent profiles in The Times. As she approached the momentous milestone, Saar appeared more interested in creating new art than in dissecting her legacy. “That’s what art is,” she told The Times in an interview in late June. “Making something where there was nothing.”

Saar first rose to prominence in the 1970s, after crafting a small assemblage — roughly the size of a shoebox — that featured at its center a stereotypical Black mammy figurine bearing a rifle in one hand and a grenade in the other. The piece was first shown at the Rainbow Sign, a community center in Berkeley that was located near the headquarters of the Black Panthers.

The artist had begun her professional life as a designer of greeting cards and home accessories. But 1972’s “The Liberation of Aunt Jemima,” as the assemblage was called, catapulted her into the center of the Black Arts Movement and connected her with a broader tradition of assemblage in California and the art world at large. Three years after its creation, she had a solo exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York. Decades later, activist Angela Davis credited “The Liberation of Aunt Jemima” with spurring the Black women’s movement.

“It’s like they abolished slavery, but they kept Black people in the kitchen as mammy jars,” Saar said in a 2015 interview. “I had this Aunt Jemima, and I wanted to put a rifle and a grenade under her skirts. I wanted to empower her. I wanted to make her a warrior. I wanted people to know that Black people wouldn’t be enslaved by that.”

In June 2020, in the wake of the uprisings following the murder of George Floyd, Quaker Oats announced that it would retire the Aunt Jemima brand. Saar took to Instagram with an image of her famous work and a message: “She’s liberated! Finally at long last! And it’s about time!”

“Liberation” now resides in the collection of the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, not far from where it was first shown.

Betye Saar was born Betye Irene Brown in L.A. on July 30, 1926, the eldest of Jefferson Maze Brown and Beatrice Lillian Parson‘s three children. Her father, with whom she was close, died when Saar was about 5. And shortly thereafter, Parson relocated the family to Pasadena to live with her maternal aunt, Hattie Parson Keys. (Years later, Saar created a series of works in honor of Keys, employing objects that her aunt had left behind — something she would do for other family members as well.)

Saar’s parents weren’t artists, but art was in the air. When she was a child, her mother encouraged her to sew and make crafts. And, in the summers, she spent time at the home of her paternal grandparents in Watts, where she saw Simon Rodia building the Watts Towers and was struck by his use of materials.

“The one I find the most amusing is the corn cob,” she told the podcast “The Modern Art Notes” in 2016. “He had a piece of space with wet cement so he just put the corn cob in there. And I just love the kind of freedom to make the piece. Anything can go in there.”

After graduating from high school, Saar spent two years at Pasadena City College before transferring to UCLA in 1947. She majored in design, figuring that she would become an interior decorator — and, for a time, she did indeed work in that field, teaming up with Curtis Tann to form a cleverly named studio called Brown and Tann. Operating out of Tann’s home, the company produced an array of decorative and functional objects, including bowls, ashtrays and jewelry.

To market their goods, they turned to an informal network of African American artists, staging pop-up exhibitions in people’s homes and in other impromptu locations. In 1951, the pair was featured in Ebony magazine.

It was through that circle that she met a ceramicist of German American descent by the name of Richard Saar. In 1952, they married. The following year, their daughter Lezley was born. Two other daughters followed: Alison in 1956 and Tracye in 1961. (Lezley and Alison are now respected artists in their own right. And, in fact, on more than one occasion, all three women have shown their work together, most recently at the Museum of Art & History in Lancaster in 2018.) In 2024, the Equal Justice Initiative Legacy Gallery installed Saar’s “Seeking Secrets of Destiny” alongside her daughter Alison’s sculpture “The Beckoning.”

Betye Saar, flanked by her daughters, stands before a painted brick wall.

(Carolina A. Miranda / Los Angeles Times)

In 1962, the Saar family moved to a rambling hillside home in Laurel Canyon, then a very rustic part of L.A. It put them in a hotbed of hippiedom right as the 1960s got rolling.

“Down the road was Frank Zappa,” Saar recalled in one interview. “There weren’t that many houses. We had the long skirts and long hair, and it was very casual. You’d go to a love-in or a concert.”

“We were as hippie-ish as hippie could be, while still being responsible.”

By the late ‘60s, she and Saar had divorced. But she remained in Laurel Canyon, where she would live and work until the end of her life.

Saar came to art almost by accident. In the late 1950s, she enrolled at Cal State Long Beach to pursue a master’s degree so that she could teach. But a stroll through campus led her past the university’s printing department.

“I walked past the print workshop and I was like, ‘Heyyy!’ ” she later recalled.

The master’s degree never happened. Instead, she poured herself into printing.

“I loved making prints,” she recalled. “The move into fine art, it was liberating. It gave me freedom to experiment.”

A pair of other, longer journeys, also proved formative.

There was a trip to Chicago’s Field Museum, where she immersed herself in the institution’s extensive collection of African art, followed by a trip to Haiti in the early 1970s. Saar was drawn to the Caribbean nation because of her interest in voodoo and magic — and the power that these could confer on inanimate objects.

“In the early 1960s I began going to coffee houses and they’d have books on the occult,” she told the New York Times in 1978. “I was attracted to signs and diagrams of alchemy and palmistry, and I began to use them in my prints. I also haunted second-hand and junk stores, and I started to frame my prints in old window frames.”

But it was a visit to an exhibition of the work of Joseph Cornell at the Pasadena Art Museum (now the Norton Simon Musuem) that inspired her to take a three-dimensional turn in her work. Saar was moved by the surreal qualities of the New York artist’s intimately scaled assemblages, which were often presented in small boxes.

“I immediately started collecting stuff after I saw that show,” she told the L.A. Times in 2016. “I started going to yard sales and estate sales.”

During the ‘60s and ‘70s, she took on a series of part-time jobs to provide for her children, designing costumes at a cultural center and teaching at area art schools. These provided her with necessary income, but also allowed her enough time to make work — which she often did at the kitchen table.

Saar’s creations from that era are on display through Aug. 22 at Roberts Projects. Titled, “Let’s Get It On: The Wearable Art of Betye Saar,” the show covers the years Saar spent in the costume department for the Inner City Cultural Center’s theatrical productions.

“Art comes from the heart and the head,” she once said. “You don’t need to have a separate space in which to make it.”

Plus, art gave Saar a crucial political voice at a time of the civil rights and Black power movements. “If you are a mom with three kids, you can’t go to a march,” she once stated, “but you can make work that deals with your anger.”

“The Weight of Betrayal,” 2015, by Betye Saar.

(Brian Forrest / Roberts Projects)

In her assemblages, she incorporated symbols that channeled dark episodes of U.S. history and African American struggle: the schematics of slave ships, the hackneyed images of vintage kitsch and the cruel sobriquets used by white supremacists to describe Black children.

At first she was apprehensive about using this type of imagery in her work. “Blacks were ashamed of those derogatory images,” she told the New York Times. “I like to think I recycled those images from negative to positive.”

But there was power in those images — and Saar knew just how to harness it.

“Saar’s assemblage doesn’t just describe history,” wrote former Times art critic Christopher Knight of her work in 2019, “it embodies a visceral connection to it.”

She would go on to deploy these tropes in myriad ways throughout her career — in particular the stereotypical figure of the Black mammy.

This included one particularly potent work: a glass bottle featuring the visage of a smiling mammy, which she transformed into a Molotov cocktail. The piece, which for decades had been in a private collection, reappeared in the traveling exhibition “We Wanted a Revolution: Black Radical Women, 1965-85,” which went on view at the California African American Museum (CAAM) in 2017.

“Historically, the mammy was the ultimate image of Black female servitude in the American psyche,” wrote historian Steven Nelson in the catalog that accompanied a 2017 exhibition of Saar’s work at the Craft Contemporary (then known as the Craft & Folk Art Museum). “She was kind and giving. She cooked and cleaned and did the laundry. She took care of the children. She was harmless.”

By arming her mammies with revolvers, rifles and bullets, Saar turned a symbol of servility into one of militancy and power.

“Liberation of Aunt Jemima: Cocktail,” 1973, shown at the exhibition “We Wanted a Revolution” at CAAM in 2017.

(Jonathan Dorado, Brooklyn Museum / Betye Saar, Roberts Projects)

Her work also frequently touched on the personal: family, dreams, magic and the body (particularly the Black female body). In the process, she influenced a younger generation of artists, key figures such as Houston Conwill, Senga Nengudi and David Hammons.

“You can really see the impact she had on them,” said Kellie Jones, a scholar and independent curator who organized “Now Dig This!: Art and Black Los Angeles 1960-1980” at the Hammer Museum in 2011. “She had this multimedia practice. It was about Africa, but it was about the world. She has works with Mexican milagros, she has titles in Spanish, she at certain points has Asian influence and Haitian influence. She was really looking at the globe. She was a person in the world, and she really modeled that for people like Hammons and Conwill and Nengudi.”

Saar’s work resides in the permanent collections of more than 80 international museums, and in recent years, she was the subject of solo shows at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Prada Foundation in Milan and the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art in Arizona (which hosted a retrospective).

In L.A., she had regular exhibitions at her Culver City gallery Roberts Projects, as well as one-woman shows at CAAM and the Craft Contemporary. In 2019, a small but potent show at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art explored the ways in which her drawing process factored into her assemblage work. But a full retrospective at one of her hometown’s major museums eluded her.

Saar told The Times that she didn’t let it bother her: “I’ve always done what I did and never felt I was competing with what was going on.”

An installation view of “Mojotech,” 1987, by Betye Saar at the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art.

(Tim Lanterman / Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art and Roberts Projects)

If anything, she competed only with herself.

Well into her 90s, she continued to get up every day to craft assemblages out of the objects she had amassed in her studio. At 96, she scoured the Huntington Library gardens for a commissioned installation she called a “full-circle” project.

“I used to come to the Huntington with my mother when I was a child. She loved to garden, especially African violets, and she passed that love of plants and nature on to me,” Saar told the New York Times Style Magazine in 2024.

That love is palpable in “Drifting Toward Twilight” and its accompanying documentary, which sees Saar fawning over the orange tint of sloughed bark and the mystical qualities of garden scraps.

“Even in death those things can be really beautiful,” Saar said in the short documentary.

After working with a 17-foot canoe as a centerpiece for the Huntington exhibition, Saar told Curate LA that she felt compelled to return to small-scale pieces. The result was her 2024 Roberts Projects exhibit, “Betye Saar: New Work,” an objet trouvé medley in bronze and gold hues.

“At first, the new works were more nostalgic, with vintage photos and female ephemera, like gloves and such,” Saar said. “Then I brought in the tall ship bookends and African masks, and the works moved in a more ancestral and political direction.”

Even her grandson’s discarded computer parts made a cameo, a testament to Saar’s uncanny ability to mine inspiration from the most mundane objects.

“The worst problem for an artist is having nothing to say,” she once said in an interview. “I just have so many ideas. … Look at things that are important to you, what’s happening in your life. If you have that, you never run out of ideas.”

With her centennial on the horizon, Saar in 2025 formed the Betye Saar Legacy Group, a committee of her trusted curators and collaborators charged with preserving her vast archive and keeping her name fresh in the minds of new generations of artists.

A Saar biography penned by Zoé Whitley, who co-curated “Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power,” is expected in 2027.

Saar is survived by her daughters Lezley, Alison (both artists) and Tracye (a writer), and her grandchildren Kyle Leeser, Maddy Inez, Sola Saar, Gen Saar Agustsson, Spencer Saar Cavanaugh, Megan Cavanaugh

Times staff writers Malia Mendez and Jessica Gelt contributed to this report.

L3Harris wants to demonstrate the ability of the RC-135V/W Rivet Joint intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) aircraft to team up with uncrewed platforms. Drones could soak up additional data and otherwise extend the reach of the airliner-sized Rivet Joints, while also helping keep the prized jets further away from threats. This and other developments underway at L3Harris could open the door to further operational possibilities for the Rivet Joint fleet.

Jason Lambert, President for Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance (ISR) at L3Harris, talked about the crewed-uncrewed teaming capability for the RC-135, and other major developments in a recent interview with our Jamie Hunter. He also spoke about airborne early warning, electronic warfare, and other capabilities the company is pursuing for various special mission aircraft across its portfolio. This includes a version of the airborne early warning and control-optimized Bombardier Global 6500 business jet-based AERIS-X that is now in the works for South Korea.

Jamie Hunter’s full interview with L3Harris’ Jason Lambert can be found below.

RC-135 Rivet Joint Could Control Uncrewed Drones To Soak Up More Data

When it comes to the Rivet Joints, L3Harris supports the global fleet, which consists of 17 in U.S. Air Force service and another three flown by the Royal Air Force (RAF) in the United Kingdom. The company performs depot maintenance and upgrade work on the RC-135V/Ws at its facility in Greenville, Texas.

“The way these planes operate is every four years or so they come out of the field for depot-level maintenance. So we take the aircraft into our operation in Greenville, we take out the electronics gear, we do a full inspection on the airframe, look for any corrosion, [and] do any repairs required,” Lambert explained. “Then we basically build back the aircraft up with the latest antennas, hardware capabilities, processing power, as well as the software that’s currently going and always going, actually on a baseline spiral upgrade.”

“The software development is on a spiral upgrade schedule, so we’re constantly working the development of new updates and new upgrades for the capability set on the aircraft mission set itself,” he continued. “So, while the aircraft were actually birthed in the 60s and 70s from the Boeing line, from a mission system capability, they’re actually the youngest mission system across the entire United States Air Force, and the reason that’s the case is because as they come off the production line or come out of our depot center, every aircraft is leaving with the world’s leading technology, both software and hardware.”

L3Harris “is already provisioned to be able to do quick turn hardware and software upgrades on the aircraft,” Lambert noted. “We can do that from anywhere from a week to a month, and then actually field the aircraft back into operational theater to perform.”

It should be noted here that rapid upgrade cycles, measured in days, if not hours, rather than weeks or months, have been shown to be a decisive factor, especially when it comes to drones and electronic warfare, on both sides of the battlefield in Ukraine. The U.S. military has been increasingly open about its need to adapt faster, which was notably underscored by lessons learned from operations in and around the Red Sea between 2023 and 2025. We will come back to this later on.

For L3Harris, crewed-uncrewed teaming is one new capability it is already looking to insert into the Rivet Joint fleet using the processes available now.

“We’re currently in discussions right now to actually do demonstrations on that [crewed-uncrewed teaming] with the RC-135,” Lambert said. “So, new technology, new capability set that’s underway. The technology is actually there. It exists today. We just need to go demonstrate it.”

Lambert said that L3Harris has been talking with multiple unspecified drone makers about crewed-uncrewed teaming with the Rivet Joint, as well as other special mission aircraft. He also highlighted the company’s own ability to provide the secure datalinks that would be critical for realizing this capability, via the Broadband Communications Systems (BCS) business unit in Salt Lake City, Utah.

“The next question is how we actually go demonstrate that with a connected set of tissue in theater to be able to do that,” he added.

As noted, pairing the RC-135V/Ws with uncrewed teammates would expand their ability to scoop up electronic emissions and other intelligence, and to do so across a larger area. Drones could operate beyond the Rivet Joint’s organic sensor range and the radio horizon. They could carry additional sensor systems to also broaden the types of intelligence the team could gather at any given time. Having multiple assets tied together would also help with geolocation of radio signals via triangulation. Paired with the right tactics, the crewed-uncrewed team could allow for additional tactical flexibility and collection of higher-fidelity data.

The information the drones collect could be passed to the Rivet Joint’s crew for analysis and exploitation, as well as to other intelligence and command and control nodes further to the rear. The aircraft also have the ability to send data to forces at or near the tactical edge. The crew of these planes includes dozens of signals and electronic warfare specialists, as well as linguists, who can immediately begin sifting through the intelligence being collected and help get it where it needs to go.

RC-135V/Ws are already particularly well known for their role in creating so-called “electronic orders of battle” detailing an opponent’s force posture, especially when it comes to air defense and command and control assets. Drone teammates would fit right into this playbook, offering a new way to stimulate integrated air defense networks, and glean intelligence about capabilities and standard operating procedures as a result.

Crewed-uncrewed teaming could also help keep the Rivet Joints further away from threats. Stealthy drones, in particular, could be sent to collect intelligence in higher-risk areas. Adversary anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) bubbles are only growing in scale and scope, to include ever-longer-ranged anti-air missiles. This, in turn, threatens to push Rivet Joints further and further away from areas they would be tasked to collect on, especially in the midst of a high-end fight, such as one against China in the Pacific. As an aside, the U.S. Army sees air-launched drones as a critical capability for its new ME-11B High Accuracy Detection and Exploitation System (HADES) ISR aircraft, specifically to help keep them as far away from enemy air defenses as possible.

The ability for Rivet Joint to act as airborne drone controllers opens the door to additional operational possibilities beyond ISR, including using those uncrewed teammates to provide localized force protection. The drones could be configured for other missions, including electronic warfare and signal relay, too. A networked swarm of uncrewed teammates in various configurations could offer further flexibility to perform multiple tasks simultaneously across a swath of the battlespace.

All of this could transform the RC-135V/Ws into more multi-purpose platforms going forward. At the same time, it should also be noted that the Rivet Joints are the definition of a highly in-demand, but low-density asset, and each one of the Air Force’s 17 aircraft can only be in one place at one time. The aging aircraft have also suffered readiness challenges in recent years, further limiting how many are actually available for real-world missions on a day-to-day basis.

In his interview with Jamie Hunter, L3Harris’ Lambert also discussed drone teaming and other capability developments the company is pursuing in the context of what this could mean for AERIS-X.

For AERIS-X, “think of connecting and having this be the command and control unit to be able to operate a set of unmanned aircraft,” Lambert said. It “is essentially the hub-and -spoke system to be able to go operate as a network in theater.”

“So, the current [AERIS-X] aircraft is, right now, in a six operators [sic] configuration. It can easily be flexed to eight. We’re also looking at opportunities to take the aircraft to 10,” he added. “The operator count is also a function of the AI [artificial intelligence] evolution. So you think about the effectivity of what that operator can do in terms of their workload that they have in that station. We view AI as not a replacement for that, it’s a supplement to the operator. So, being able to do – take on and process more information with less. So being able to do the job of 10 or more with a group of six is very feasible with an AI technology platform.”

This latter point could factor into directing larger groups of drones, as well as other mission sets. The uncrewed aircraft could themselves be highly autonomous, further helping to reduce the workload of human operators.

“Think of AERIS-X essentially owning the skies, so owning the battle space, and looking at not just what’s in the air, but what’s coming into the air from the ground. It’s got the radar package to be able to go look out,” Lambert also noted in talking about AERIS-X more generally. “We also have the capability set to integrate this with an ISR platform to be able to look downward. So, think SAR/GMTI [synthetic aperture radar/ground moving-target indicator] radar, standoff targeting, to be able to do that.”

AERIS X™ Airborne Early Warning and Control Mission Scenario

“Mentioned the ground connectivity. Of course, we have that not only from line-of-sight, but we can also do through satellite link to be able to have that command and control on the ground, as well as control from the air,” he added. “And we have a program called TOC-L, Tactical Operations Center-Light, which is actually a complementary product and system to this. Because you can have the air bases, and think across maybe an island chain or set of four deployed locations, now you can have essentially a network architecture and infrastructure to be able to do that command and control across the suite of assets.”

In addition to the airborne early warning and control and surface surveillance roles, Lambert highlighted the ability to configure AERIS-X with electronic warfare capabilities, especially to provide additional layers of self-protection. L3Harris’ special mission aircraft portfolio also extends to electronic attack platforms, including the EA-37B Compass Call for the U.S. Air Force. Italy is also now on track to field a version of the EA-37B. L3Harris has already been working with that country on the Joint Airborne Multi-Mission Multi-Sensor System (JAMMS) aircraft program, as well.

In speaking with Jamie Hunter, Lambert also highlighted how L3Harris had leveraged technology from the Rivet Joint fleet for the MC-55A Peregrine for the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF). The Australians notably describe the MC-55A as an “airborne intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and electronic warfare” platform.

It’s possible that the Rivet Joint fleet could gain electronic warfare capabilities, if they haven’t already. The Air Force has already been openly exploring the capabilities to be gained by teaming crewed Rivet Joint and Compass Call aircraft directly together during operations.

The electronic warfare domain is also an area where the aforementioned comments about rapid upgrade cycles are especially pertinent. Electronic warfare systems have to receive regular updates to ensure their effectiveness in an ecosystem where threats can evolve very quickly by changing waveforms or otherwise modulating the signals they pump out. The data that ISR platforms like the Rivet Joint collect is critical to staying ahead of adversary developments, but getting upgrades to systems in the field as fast as possible is also essential. If updates come too slowly, they could easily be out of date before they even arrive. A vital set of capabilities to further truncate these upgrade processes is now being developed under the umbrella of what is known as cognitive electronic warfare. Major leaps are already being made in shortening the time required to make these updates. The absolute “holy grail” of the concept would be an electronic warfare system that could adapt autonomously by itself in real-time, even in the middle of a mission, based on any new data it is presented with.

For its part now, L3Harris seems very interested in demonstrating how pairing drones with the Rivet Joint, as well as other ISR, early warning and control, and electronic warfare aircraft, could create new powerful airborne teams better suited to tomorrow’s potential conflicts.

Contact the author: joe@twz.com