Since its invention in 1839, photography has been the handmaiden of empire, wrapping notions of conquest, colonization, and exploitation under the guise of “civilization.” Endlessly reproducible, the photograph appeared to the unassuming eye as objective fact, its very proliferation embedding itself in collective memory as unassailable truth when in fact it could be readily used to construct fictions in service of power and wealth. In the hands of the state, photography could heroicize the villain, romanticize the crime, vilify the victim, and transform the viewer into a shameless, even bloodthirsty voyeur.
A century later, photography became the provenance of picture magazines like Life and Look, its pages filled with big, splashy ads and cinematic photo documentary reportage that had all the hallmarks of Hollywood copaganda. At the same time, photography upended the Western myth of genius embedded in rarity and exclusion, leaving it largely excluded from the echelons of the art world until the 1980s. But in the hands of artists and activists who understood that the camera, like the pen, could be a tool of liberation, photography played a revolutionary role in 20th century life. For Black America, the photograph was more than artifact or work of art; it was evidence, bearing witness and speaking truth to power in a nation built on slavery, genocide, and land theft. In 1955, Mamie Till-Mobley did just this when she released the pictures of her son Emmett Till after he was lynched, her courageous act helping to ignite the Civil Rights Movement.

That same year, photographer Roy DeCarava and poet Langston Hughes published The Sweet Flypaper of Life, a pocket-size paperback pairing black and white vignettes of Harlem alongside an intimate tale of daily life that blurred the lines between fact, fiction, myth, and memory. The book stood at the vanguard of the Black Arts Movement (BAM), which first took root alongside the burgeoning Civil Rights Movement and would become the blueprint for collective practice and community action. Like the Harlem Renaissance, which signaled the arrival of Black America on the global stage, BAM heralded a new vision of Black life across art, music, literature, theater, dance, film, video, and public space that stood in solidarity with independence movements across the African diaspora.
Now the new exhibition, Photography and the Black Arts Movement, 1955–1985, at the National Gallery of Art crafts a panoramic look at visionaries like Gordon Parks, for whom the camera was their choice of weapon. Curated by Philip Brookman, consulting curator of the department of photographs at the National Gallery of Art, and Deborah Willis, chair of the department of photography and imaging at the Tisch School of the Arts, the exhibition showcases work by over 100 artists including Kwame Brathwaite, the mastermind behind the “Black Is Beautiful” movement in beauty and fashion; Black Panthers graphic designer Emory Douglas, and James Van Der Zee, a leading figure of the Harlem Renaissance whose 1982 portrait of Jean-Michel Basquiat has become a modern masterpiece.

James Barnor. “Drum” Cover Girl Erlin Ibreck, Kilburn, London, 1966, printed
2023, © James Barnor / Courtesy galerie Clémentine de la Féronnière.
At a time when the Trump White House calls for a “comprehensive review” of the Smithsonian Institution’s eight museums in advance of the country’s 250th anniversary, the state sanctioned history of Black America has come under fire once again. The exhibition catalogue stands as an archive against erasure, spotlighting artists whose contributions have gone overlooked for far too long. Many have since passed, and those who remain are now elders whose work forms the blueprint of iconic legacies hiding in plain sight.
Amid the wealth of layered histories, a pattern emerged between artists of different nations, generations, and cultural backgrounds. It is evident in the work of the photographers of Kamoinge Workshop, which has gone on to become the longest running photography collective. Founded in 1963, the group took its name (Kamoinge – “working together”) from the Kikuyu people who liberated Kenya from the British that very year. In a nation that touts rugged individualism as a totem of success, Kamoinge understood the power of collectivism was the high tide that lifts all ships. “Shunning the stereotypical imagery found in the mainstream press, Kamoinge members sought to portray Black life in its fullness and complexity, often choosing themes at their weekly meetings for collaborative exploration,” Cheryl Finley writes in the catalogue.

© Albert Fennar. Rhythmic Cigarettes, Greenwich Village, New York, 1965
Roy DeCarava became the first director of Kamoinge, instilling a vision of photography as fine art and creating a space where knowledge, wisdom, and understanding could flourish among established and emerging photographers. Taken together they form a constellation of spirit in the material world. From Ming Smith’s ethereal portrait of Sun Ra dissolving into the ether to Al Fennar’s portrait of three men smoking cigarettes while cruising the streets of Greenwich Village, their work illuminates new ways of seeing the world as resonant then as they are now. Kamoinge member Anthony Barboza went on to become one of its most influential commercial photographers, his 1970s portrait of Pat Evans in profile rocking a baldie redefining beauty, glamour, and power with grace.
These works, crafted from need and desire rather than status and wealth, have become the foundation upon which contemporary photography now rests. Photography and the Black Arts Movement, 1955–1985 is the perfect entrée into a repository of soul.

© Barkley L. Hendricks. Self-Portrait with Red Sweater, 1980, printed 2023.
Courtesy of the Estate of Barkley L. Hendricks and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.
Photography and the Black Arts Movement, 1955–1985 is now on view until January 11, 2026 at the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C.
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