#183, Seydou Keita.

#185, Seydou Keita

A Moorish woman from Northern Mali lying on her elbow next to her companion on a prayer rug. She is wearing a traditional bright blue robe (koymeeti) and a large necklace with tassles around her neck. Her hair is arranged in he form of a helmet decorated with sliver ornament.

-description from catalogue

It was the spring of 1999 when I was first introduced to African photography.  The exhibition was called Revue Noire: Africa by Africans- A Photographic View. It was in conjunction with the publishing of Anthology of African & Indian Ocean Photography. As I walked the space, (Smithsonian Center for African History and Culture) I quickly became overwhelmed with the amount of work that lined the walls…it seemed in the tradition of the Salons, where every bit of wall space was taken by an image regardless of subject or order. I struggle through the show, with pen and pad in hand, taking superficial notes.

At the time, I attended Howard University, my professors gave me affirmation, and I found comfort in my friendships, intimate relationship, and a community where my reflection was constant. Good, bad and indifferent. In this comfortable state, it was easy for me to walk smugly through that space, hands behind back, wondering, if I would have enough time to meet so-in-so later. I didn’t think about the amazing amount of time it took to catalogue and showcase well over 100 artists spanning the entire continent of Africa…including artists from the Diaspora. At the time I didn’t have the knowledge to really understand the context of Africa by Africans…A Photographic View and what that really means. Of course I appreciated the work…but not really.

It wouldn’t be ’til years later, while sitting in a graduate photography critique course, the only Black person, with my work lining the walls, the Black faces of my subjects staring back at blank, white, privileged, uninformed and in denial of their own racism…viewers, their arms folded behind their backs, I was hit with my own arrogance…I was ashamed of myself. Each critique of my work (which was every week) brought me back to that day at the Smithsonian.

My choices were clear, if I made work that would allow them to sexualize me, or better yet, didn’t challenge their preconceived notions of what the Black community was, which is what ever they caught on BET, or MTV, in between their large consumption of wine and cheese, there would be no challenge. In fact I would be the Black darling of the department. The one they could use as a poster child to promote how Muti-Cultural,Diverse, Global and, Liberal their program was.  But, in the tradition of Chester Higgins, Elizabeth Cattlet, Tom Feelings, Charles White, Aaron Douglas… ( most of whom, these viewers have never heard of…yeah, really!) I make work that reflected my community, with the one objection and one objection only…UPLIFT!!!

Truly the days and hours in between these critiques, while waiting for my fiber based photographic paper to dry, or my movie to render ( praying my computer wouldn’t crash), I studied this work. It’s meaning, context and purpose became part of my arsenal used when I had to spit fire on folk who questioned, why I chose Black people and experience as my subject and the Black community as my audience.

So it is with a humble, full and sincere heart, that I reconsider the  work of one of the artist’s included in the Revue Noire: Africa by Africans exhibition.

The fiction I create when looking at art in general, photography in particular is just part of my process. It’s how I take in and examine a piece. I believe visual art and literature, parallel. I experience great art like great literature. The single photograph is a poem, the great mural, an epic novel.

I imagine Mali, mid 1950′s. It is still under French occupation, but there are whispers, and rumors of change coming. A beautiful Muslim couple is planning to have their photograph taken. They live humbly and are proud. They don’t want their picture taken by just anyone. They want the self-taught accomplished, sought-after , seasoned Seydou Keita. His work is known throughout the city of Bamako. People flock to him because of his carefully composed, sensitive portraits. He takes care with his subjects, making sure the props and poses are just so.

This couple is not interested in choosing any of the European clothes Keita has available to those who want to be photographed like the French. Nor are they interested in the vibrant, boldly patterned back drops he images are known for. A simple piece of fabric will do. They want this image to capture the authenticity of who they are. A Muslim couple, in love.

They take off their shoes to protect the sanctity of this image, the sacred space Keita helps them create. They don’t just have their shoes put off the side…they want them in the frame and they are carefully placed, her and his. They want this recorded. They lay on the prayer rug, him behind her. He is dressed in bright white, she in blue.

It is not too long ago, when images taken of people who look like them by outsiders, involved the promotion of eugenics, the ideas that Africans as savages…and not human.

This couple knows who they are, and so does the photographer, whose work would become a major Malian treasure.

He smells her sweet oils through her koymeeti.  His is suppose to be looking at the camera, but the aroma pulls him…he is lost in it. His hands brush hers, he moves closer to feel her and whispers,

I love you.

She watches Seydou as he disappears behind the camera’s eye.

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~ by zingha on September 19, 2008.