Black Panther Emory Douglas and the Art of Revolution, Urbis, Manchester

The European debut of works by the "revolutionary artist" has come to Urbis in Manchester. It's a surprise that Emory Douglas, the prolific artist and a former minister of culture for the Black Panther Party (1966-1982), whose uncompromising graphics are politically thunderous, has never had a show outside the US.

And why Urbis? It can't be just the stunning artworks that would sell well to the press and to young politicos keen to get their hands on reproductions on T-shirts, badges and prints.

Urbis's purpose is to examine and explore city life through the culture and experiences of its people. The Black Panther Party (BPP) for Self Defense (as it was initially called), was started in Oakland, California, by activist Huey Newton, who aimed to empower ordinary African Americans in the face of concentrated and persistent police brutality.

Early on, the exhibition states that Manchester's own past labour struggles are one of the reasons for Urbis hosting the show. But Manchester is not mentioned again and perhaps this is wise: to do so would seem forced. It may have been better to leave the statement out altogether.

Forgetting the link with Manchester, this exhibition covers the entire first floor at Urbis and is a thorough look at the social and political world that led to the formation of the BPP and the social and political network created by the party.

Emory Douglas joined the Black Panthers at the outset and became involved in the Black Community News Service, the newspaper that aimed to correct the mass media coverage of the party. It was newspaper sales that primarily helped to keep the party afloat.

Having trained in commercial art, Douglas's drawing and cartoons in the paper helped the illiterate understand the message. The party introduced the verbal and pictorial use of pigs and rats for police and politicians to wider America.

Political with a capital P, the first half of the exhibition offers the historical overview of the social, political and economic conditions of African Americans that led to the civil rights campaigns. This section comes with a warning of offensive material and recommends adult companions for the under-16s. I could see why.

There is blown-up image after blown-up image of lynchings, showing how they continued right up to the 1960s and beyond. And just when you think you've come to an end of the horror, there is more and even a small photograph of a named African American being burned alive in 1908. This was too much. One or two images would have been enough.

Urbis's voyeurism recalls the African-American studies strand that psychologically assesses the white people in the lynching pictures who dressed in their Sunday best to view the act. I turn the corner and gunshots ring out. Footage of infamous political assassinations of the era is the reason for my now-shattered nerves.

Huge wooden blocks, painted in various pastels and primary colours, are arranged into a maze-like structure. Many of the images are blown up as big as the blocks, while slogans, quotes and context are writ large on the walls. More detailed historical information is written clearly on small plaques. The setting fits the drama and gravitas of the subject matter. It is all very well lit and accessible.

Out of the first maze is the second and larger half of the exhibition - the Black Panther Party section, starting with a large space set up as a classroom with BPP voices and messages broadcast from an elevated speaker.

African history books, documentary footage and framed photographs of Douglas and other key members of the party fill the mock-classroom. A filmed interview of Douglas introduces the artist's section.

His revolutionary posters show influences ranging from Che Guevara, African studies, and the propagandist art emerging from Vietnam, Cuba and China
in the 1960s.

The artist's work is strong enough for an exhibition of its own. The man who said there is no such thing as art for art's sake, that art is for the people, shows powerfully how he used his talent to reflect real social and political concerns. There are close to 60 of Douglas's pictures, original lithographs and cartoons.

The breadth is apt, as his work reached thousands because they were posted on walls, fences, buildings and apartment blocks to directly address the people.

The city itself became his gallery. Douglas's legacy is noted -
his influence on artists such as Banksy - as is his contemporary work, which is still based around the African-American community and also the injustices of the US health system.

Urbis has delivered a stunning and information-rich exhibition for Manchester and the UK. It feels almost revolutionary. I can't think of another UK museum that would have taken a chance on an exhibition like this.