I attended the Gordon Parks Voices in the Mirror Exhibit in lower Manhattan, and I’ve written this immediately afterwards to as best capture how I felt there. I’ll start by saying, the topic and moments in time that this collection focused on was of an important but emotionally hard-hitting nature. After doing some research earlier on Parks, I recognized some of his photos and now, after going to this gallery, I understand that a lot of his work was not only a commentary on racism but was a celebration of Blackness as beauty, as power and as resilience. His photographs were very painting-like to me. Whether in black and white, pastel or bright color schemes, there was something about these photos that were so perfect that one might think the subjects appear posed, or the scene feels premeditated. A lot of the quoted commentary from those who knew Parks that were displayed around the room described these photos as candid, however. Some described his lens as magic or him as the walking embodiment of talent. Many felt like he was put on this Earth to take these photographs, and I certainly understood the admiration after my visit.
As a white woman, I felt it wasn’t my place to look outwardly emotional as I walked around because it’s not me nor my ancestors who felt the rejection, anger and grief that some of these photos depicted. With that said, I felt really moved by what I saw. Not only did the photographs of blatant oppression that were captured tear me up inside, but the photographs he took of children stuck with me. I have no idea what it’s like to be a Black child, but the photos of children playing by the creek, for instance, fed me a heavy dose of nostalgia. These pictures felt like a memory I owned myself as I looked at children laying in the grass and playing with a soaked dog by the water’s edge. I think that’s a mark of a really fabulous photographer: That his work still profoundly connects with a white girl detached from the actual embodiment of the subject.
Some of the other pictures of children, however, were really devastating. In one, a group of Black children are looking through a fence outside of a carnival full of white people. This photo forces the viewer into the point of view of the children, separated from fun and joy by a fence. It felt important to see a moment like that, even secondhand. I began to notice a pattern in Parks’ photography relating to capturing these “small” moments that tell a wildly vast historical story. Parks documented moments that go overlooked (at least when non-Black people may think of segregation today). This carnival photograph’s story spoke to the routine rejection from society that Black Americans faced since their earliest memories. I also am someone who always saw herself represented in the media and so a photograph of a little Black girl looking at white mannequins in a store window gave me food for thought too. I have obviously thought about my own positionality in depth and how I was privileged to see myself in movies, advertisements, etc. growing up. This photograph put me in the shoes of a little girl who didn’t see that. The subliminal messaging that being Black was the outlier from acceptability permeated this exhibit.
I know every photograph can mean anything to anyone because the human mind produces subjective perspectives, but there was a real aura of love that transcended these photos. I think anyone would feel it and see it had they gone. There was also great care taken in the people he photographed; The children were captured with lively, adorable childhood energy. Adults were well-dressed and all but one of the portraits looked happy, determined or confident. This felt very intentional. The range of subject matter—from famous figures like Malcolm X to poor, Black Americans—was very well put together and showed a large expanse of emotions that subjects displayed. Yet, these photos distinctly displayed the Black community as opposite of stereotypes of stigmas imposed on them. Most of the settings of the photos took place in the “city” (although none of the descriptions said exactly where most photos took place), near shops, neighborhood homes and in more intimate settings, like jail cells. I’m thankful that I took the time out of my busy schedule to see this exhibit because I’ve now discovered a new photographer that I love and have further grown my understanding of how art can contribute to historical memory and social justice.