Noah The Archivist.
It was only minutes into a recent Twitter Space conversation that I felt called to dust off this blog and share some thoughts. Specifically ones that revolve around the concept of archiving and its importance. How I, as a photographer, and a Black man, feel a sense of duty when it comes to documenting my people and other marginalised groups. There's something to be said about keeping records and reshaping the warped narrative that some folks have of us.
In the spirit of some of the greats who have come before me such as Gordon Parks, Carrie Mae Weems, Fan Ho, and Katsu Naito, I strive to build a body of work that exhibits truth.
The very last job I had working for someone else was an apprenticeship with a sculptor. In her studio, which also served as her base of operations, I worked alongside someone who I consider to be a master archivist. She essentially created an entire walk-through encyclopedia within the office space. Everything from the artist's step-by-step creative processes from start to finish, physical publications from around the world dating back to the 80s, and even records of every product/tool used in that studio. Whatever you needed to know about the artist and her work was carefully logged in some way. I admired her passion for the skill.
Sometimes, after closing up the studio, she and I would walk towards our respective trains and talk for a while. Those talks slowly revealed things for me. She was understandably cagey about information that she would share in regards to her personal life. Which is what made her moments of vulnerability precious to me. One day, while teaching me how to color correct archival photography, she opened up to me about her Mormon upbringing. How it played a role in her love of documenting.
She told me she could trace her family history back to the 1800s- if not further back, which blew my mind. Because the tradition of archiving is so strong in her community, the bridge to her lineage is well kept and easily accessible for anyone looking to cross it. It made me think about how many Black and or indigenous folk can't say the same. A lot of our history has been discarded or rewritten in some way.
Family on my father's side, while I do keep in touch with some aunts and cousins, is shrouded in ambiguity. Whether that’s all due to losing track of photos, family drama, or both- I’m unsure. I do know how much the photos would mean to me if I was given access to them.
My mom ran away from home in her early teens so I have no lived experience with that side. I haven't even seen a photo of her younger than she was in her 20s. All of these blank spaces make me question what it would mean if I could build bridges for, not just my own family, but others as well. What would that look like for us?
Decades, or centuries, worth of tangible records that can be passed onto future generations. Some of which will never get to speak to us in the physical plane. Our portraits, our joys, and our pains...through our lenses. How much would that strengthen our sense of self? Would it serve as a point of relativity so we know how far we've progressed as a people? That saying "you don't know where you're going unless you know where you come from" comes to mind. I've been exploring this concept more and more through my film work. Even down to my actual approach when out taking photos.
I recognise that what I’m doing, as a photographer, at this point in my career, is bigger than myself. Because of that, there is a level of reverence that must be shown to the subject/moment. If I'm far enough away from a subject, I'll capture the image as is; ensuring that the moment is preserved. When close enough to a subject, I'll ask to take their portrait. It's been an eye-opening experience seeing how receptive some are. There is a level of trust that must be established within the first few seconds of interacting with someone, let alone asking to take their photo. Some will ask what the purpose of the photo is, and I'll let them know it's for record-keeping. I want people to know that we existed- but more specifically, that we existed beautifully.
This is a mission that I will dedicate the rest of my life to. The more I study the greats and why their works are so impactful, the more I understand what my purpose is with this medium. There is a spirit that lives in this work, and I’m looking forward to furthering the greater conversation that’s had when these images are made.
