Black and White America

A few days ago, JP Deni posted a link to the following article in Facebook. The photography was so wonderful that I had to post one picture in hope that you'll go look at the rest. Why, oh, why were talents like this kept from white America? What did society, our civilization, gain? Aren't we supposed to be better than that? When we hide another's light under a bushel, we hurt not only them, but ourselves. As Shakespeare wrote, "All are punished." Sorry, but racism is something that just chaps my ass. I just don't understand it. We are one family on this planet and we need to take pride in each others' gifts, helping each other along. Anyway, here's the article. Please go look at the photographs when you're finished reading. (This photo will enlarge if you click it.)...

In the 1950s, photography was hardly considered art. If you wanted to be taken seriously as a photographer, you photographed mountains and models, not your neighbors. You also had to be white. But one man, Roy DeCarava, turned all of that on its head. He died this week at age 89.

DeCarava was born in Harlem in 1919 to a single Jamaican mother. He had plenty of odd jobs before he picked up a camera. He was a shoe shiner, a newspaper salesman and an ice hauler. But his natural artistic gifts eventually led him to art school, where he began as a painter. It wasn't long before the lens replaced the brush.

In 1952, DeCarava applied for the prestigious Guggenheim Fellowship. He was the first black photographer to receive the grant, and he used it to photograph Harlem. The photos from this period eventually became the contents of a book. The Sweet Flypaper Of Life was made in collaboration with Harlem Renaissance writer Langston Hughes. It showed Harlem as a mix of quiet ordinary moments, everyday struggles and tiny triumphs.

DeCarava continued to photograph throughout his life, most notably the New York jazz scene. He captured all the greats; the musical genre suited his improvisational style and democratic eye. But the most important thing to DeCarava was that the old woman next door deserved a photograph just as much as John Coltrane. The black man on the stoop merited a frame as much as the white supermodel.

According to Ron Carter, legendary jazz bassist, DeCarava had a sixth sense. "My impression of his photographs is that he sees the music," Carter said in an NPR interview. DeCarava saw the music in jazz performances -- but also in kids playing in the street, in a young woman staring out her window, in men on park benches. He saw the music and the beauty in black Harlem, and he showed that face to America.

by Claire O'Neill
Photo by Roy DeCarava

Click here to see the other photos