This blogpost was due to be about my experience of taking pictures just before lockdown, and just after the easing of restrictions, but in light of the killing of George Floyd and the subsequent worldwide acts of solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement, I thought it would be remiss of me not to say something on here.
I can’t say I have ever thought much about the experiences of people of colour specifically within the context of the photographic industry, and I am hoping that there is a good reason for that. I do not commission photographers, so I am not in a position of power, and I have the disadvantage of being a female in the creative industries which is a (mostly quiet) battle of it’s own, and the one I am most aware of. I wrote a blogpost about that in December 2018.
When I was the editor of fLIP magazine we created a ‘Youth’ issue as a collaborative exercise. Tim Butcher, the then deputy editor had been approached by a young woman at a Photography event, with the suggestion that we could run an edition with the focus on Youth. We liked the idea, and Mercedes Baptiste Halliday came on board as Deputy Guest Editor. Just for context Mercedes is black. With her help we organised a Portfolio-viewing event which was available to members of London Independent Photography (who make the magazine) and younger people from the wider photographic community. I was one of the reviewers and I was especially impressed by a couple of the young people who showed me their work that day. One of them, Candice Mante, went on to submit work for consideration for publication and we used several of her images in the magazine, as well as using one of her images for the front cover. That opportunity was afforded to her because of the quality of her work, not because she was black, but it turns out that a lot of black artists, in all fields feel like they are not getting commissioned or represented in the same way or at the same frequency as their white counterparts.
I feel like what is happening now, and what is resonating is that we as the white and privileged majority are being asked to listen to the story that has hampered some of our fellow humans for centuries because of the colour of their skin. I am listening, and I want to learn.
Photograph © Candice Mante
I would like to bring your attention to Autograph - The Association of Black Photographers, which was founded in 1988 to support black photographic practices. They have a wonderful gallery based in Shoreditch, but they offer way more than a space to view work. Autograph’s mission is to enable the public to explore identity, representation, human rights and social justice through work produced by artists who use photography and film.
Last year I attended an event there called Colourism and Photography. In the event description it stated that “Colourism has often been defined as the racial discrimination of individuals based on the tonalities within the colour of their skin”.
One of the speakers was Brazilian photographer and activist Angélica Dass. She was there to tell us about her fantastic work Humanae which explores the classifications of skin colours using the Pantone Guide to challenge social classifications of race and colour. It is simply fascinating, and she has travelled the world with this project. I urge you to check it out.
I attended another talk earlier this year by a photographer I had only just become aware of: Gideon Mendel. Born in South Africa, he started his career as a news and ‘struggle’ photographer during the last years of Apartheid. That experience had a profound effect on him, and he has been producing socially-engaged work ever since.
In his book Freedom or Death (which is a re-working of material from those last years of Apartheid) there is the last, and unfinished poem written by Benjamin Moloise who was an activist, poet, and ANC member. Moloise was hanged for a crime he denied: that of the murder of a black police officer:
I am proud to be what I am
The storm of oppression will be followed
by the rain of my blood.
I am proud to give my life,
my one solitary life.
Benjamin Moloise (unfinished).
I am not saying our nation or any other nation can currently be likened to South Africa during the Apartheid era, but if apathy is prevalent in any society, then it is not too far a stretch to imagine that something similar could someday arise.
I have seen many a placard of late with the words ‘Silence is Violence’…
Front Cover of Gideon Mandel’s book: Freedom or Death
Witnessing recent events, and writing this has made me think back to when I was last actively involved in an anti-racist protest (prior to two weeks ago), and it would have been in the early 90’s, when marching against the Apartheid regime, unless you count the Rise music concerts (formerly Respect). I attended the last one ever held in 2009 with some friends and our kids. You know how something sparks a memory? Well, I had a vague recollection that Boris Johnson (as Mayor of London) had done something relevant with regard to the festival back then, so I looked it up: There is a link here if you want to read more, but the gist is: Boris wanted to remove the anti-racism message from promotional material (and was often spoken about by performing acts). Because of this the main sponsors Unison & Unite pulled out leaving City Hall with a bill of around £550,000. Johnson’s director of Arts policy at the time, Munira Mirza was quoted as saying “it was no longer appropriate to have overtly political organisations involved in the programme or in the community”.
Sleep well, don’t have nightmares, as they always said at the end of Crimewatch UK.
Amanda