Color of Character: Racial Cues in the Visual Othello

The author of this post was a participant in the Folger Institute undergraduate colloquy “Whose Sovereignty?” led by Urvashi Chakravarty. Participants examined problems of power and authority as they relate to different overlapping spheres of consent, including political, sexual, social, and economic consent. Students read both early modern and contemporary sources and discussed them with invited guests, learned about the Folger’s special collections materials and public-facing resources, spoke with curators and practitioners, and concluded the program with an in-person visit to the Folger.

In spring 2024, I began researching the use of blackface in stage portrayals of Othello, using Laurence Olivier’s controversial performance in full blackface as a focal point to examine the practice’s implications and history. Blackface in performance, regardless of intention, remains a harmful practice. At its core, it draws on negative stereotypes and perpetuates a feeling of disconnect between cultures. Blackface undermines opportunities for black actors to portray the role of Othello authentically, often reducing him to a racial caricature rather than a complex character.

While blackface is one of the most overtly problematic choices in portraying Othello, it is far from the only complicating factor. Staging Othello has historically posed challenges for directors and actors alike, particularly when interpreting Othello’s position as “the other.” Of Shakespeare’s works, Othello is among the most challenging to stage, largely due to the complexities of the title character himself. What makes Othello controversial, yet so fascinating, is how open to interpretation his status as “the other” remains in different productions. Some have determined blackface is the way to convey this message, seeing Othello as a man of color in a society of whites. Another interpretation is Othello as a misunderstood man, who becomes the “other” through his accomplishments and disconnect with those who don’t have the same successes, leading him to be easily manipulated.

Should Othello still be performed, then? That is wholly dependent on the portrayal of Othello’s character; is he meant to represent a racial “other,” or is he meant to work as a tragically blind male who happens to be black? Perhaps the most telling point of focus for looking at historical views of how Othello should be played comes from images and sculptures. Though someone may have sat for an image for inspiration, some of these images have potentially been solely based off an artist’s imagination.

Artistic depictions often exaggerate Othello’s darkness during violent moments, a visual cue that reinforces racialized associations between blackness and aggression. Even in image, Othello’s darkness is stark; his robes pristine, as if he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, while Desdemona, her bed, and curtains match his robe. The room is shrouded by the night, but still, Othello stands out as a violent being. It’s not an image of a lover’s quarrel, but one of an intruder and their victim.

On paper, Othello is a rich character – both in terms of character and wealth – but he is perhaps the poorest of them all. He wears rich garments, as he maintains a role of high value in society, but is still seen as an outsider, regardless of his achievements and marriage to Desdemona. Her presence as his wife carries a symbolic weight in Othello depictions, even if her character never changes. The more racialized Othello becomes, the more her purity and whiteness become a foil. His “outsiderness” is increasingly apparent because of how white his surroundings are, whether in setting, character, or even costume.

With the rug’s rumpled disturbance and Othello’s somewhat hostile and argumentative stance, he’s the aggressor in this depiction. Compare his face to those around him. Desdemona and her father are the picture of grace: perfectly sculpted features, light colors, porcelain skin. Their faces are perfectly symmetrical with little to no blemishes. The textures are smooth, and facial features are rounded. Othello’s features are disproportioned, almost like the sculptor was unsure how to craft a person of color. His eyes are different sizes and set at different points on his face, while his nose is sharp. He’s wearing loud colors, though purple can often resemble royalty, but his skin is about as black as his hair and is a direct contrast to the slightly pink white used for his scene counterparts.

This sculpture is the epitome of the question: what is Othello supposed to look like? Who is his character supposed to function as? These are pertinent questions for casting, but more importantly for reception. It’s all about the message that directors are attempting to convey, as with most theatre: how should an outsider character be shown? Though Othello is referred to as “the Moor,” the ambiguity of that term raises important questions about how race is interpreted onstage. And it raises the question: why are depictions of Othello that have darker skin tones often played more aggressively than those with lighter skin tones?

The primary differences between the previous sculpture and the Othello and Iago realia lie in the coloring of the characters and their clothing. This piece almost fully contradicts the former; Othello has a lighter skin tone, pale robes, and an almost innocent-looking expression. He appears less like a threat and more like someone being gently manipulated by Iago, whose darker robes and blemished face suggest deceit or corruption. Although this piece does not depict a violent scene, the tonal shift is striking. Othello comes across as a gentler, more sympathetic figure.

The use of light and dark to convey mood and emotion is not revolutionary, but here, it carries particular weight. Othello’s skin tone in art controls how audiences are supposed to feel about him: do we see him as a victim, a hero, a threat, or a villain? These visual choices, whether intentional or subconscious, reveal how race and character are interlinked in portrayals of Othello. Lighter skin tones and colors are often used to signal nobility, restraint, or victimhood, while darker tones mark characters as aggressive, mysterious, or dangerous. Taken together, these two sculptures show how portrayals of Othello’s morality and emotional state are frequently filtered through a racialized visual language, reinforcing the idea that the character’s “otherness” is as much a visual construct as it is a narrative one.

Beyond the realm of sculpture and visual art, performance choices made by actors over time similarly construct, and occasionally distort, Othello’s identity. White men have played Othello across history and, outside of blackface interpretations, use different degrees of visual transformation. Sometimes it’s voice modulation, overly excessive body language, or prosthetic makeup. Othello’s escalating suspicion and anguish are represented through a heightened performative intensity. In Olivier’s case, his choice to deepen his voice and exaggerate gestures reinforces the external markers of racial difference that his use of blackface seeks to convey. His actions exemplify how physicality and vocal choices contribute to a constructed racial identity, offering insight into his approach to embodying Othello’s character.

In contrast to these white portrayals of Othello, Ira Aldridge stands as a crucial historical counterpoint. As the first black actor to play Othello on a major European stage in the 19th century, Aldridge offered a performance rooted in lived experience rather than imitation. His presence challenged audiences and critics to reconsider the assumptions tied to race and representation. While Aldridge faced resistance and even racist backlash in some venues, his legacy underscores the importance of who gets to embody Othello and how authenticity alters interpretation.

Modern directors seem to attempt avoiding racialization altogether, however, usually by casting black actors and de-emphasizing the racial conflict or casting color-conscious and across racial lines without using any makeup in performance. These visual and performative choices do not exist in a vacuum. Directors, actors, and artists may shape the portrayal, but audiences interpret and reinforce meaning through their own cultural lenses. Whether viewers read Othello as tragic or threatening, noble or monstrous, their reactions are often shaped by the racialized visual cues embedded in the performance.

Ultimately, the portrayal of Othello has always been mediated through a complex web of visual cues, performance choices, and societal anxieties about race and difference. Whether through blackface, exaggerated physicality, or subtle shifts in costuming and expression, the stage has long been a site where Othello’s “otherness” is not simply stated but shown. While some modern productions attempt to strip away race or downplay its centrality, the truth remains that Othello’s racial identity is embedded in how he is read, received, and remembered. The challenge, then, is not merely how to perform Othello, but how to confront the implications of what his appearance has come to signify. It is not a question of whether Othello should be performed, but whether we are prepared to interrogate the visual language we bring to his story and the assumptions that language reveals.