“How Can You Be an Artist and Not Reflect the Times?”
By Jimell Greene, APA|DC board member
Jimell Greene.
“How can you be an artist and not reflect the times?” the great Nina Simone replied when asked about her music during the Civil Rights Movement, over fifty years ago. As an artist, a black artist, I was compelled to be a part of this movement from Day One. I was willing to put myself in harm’s way—exposing myself to COVID-19, tear gas, and rubber bullets, if need be—to exercise my first amendment rights. I didn’t bring a sign to the protests; I brought my camera. My photography is my form of protest. There are people out there that will have you believe that the protestors are nothing but looters and rioters. I know otherwise, and I have the photographs to prove it.
The Mamiya C330 and Mamiya 645 AF
I decided to document the protests with my Mamiyas, the C330 and 645 Pro. There are a couple of reasons why I decided to use film. I started a personal project on COVID-19 a few months ago using film which has now evolved to encompass the entire year. The other reason is why I enjoy shooting film in the first place: it keeps me present and engaged. This is something I found imperative if I were going to bring a camera to the protests. I know if I had brought my digital camera, I would have shot thousands of images without being aware of what was going on and would not have been actively participating in the protests.
I’ll be honest—I never watched the whole George Floyd video. I don’t know if I can; I don’t think my heart can take it. Whenever I read a headline or watch a video of an unarmed black man being killed by the police, I think that could have been me on the ground with a knee on my neck. The thought upsets me even more because we haven’t made much progress since my parents were my age.
On the third day of the protests, we marched from Howard University to the White House. As we marched down Georgia Ave, onlookers on the sidewalks and from their balconies cheered us on with their fists held high. Vehicles stopped and honked their horns, as people hung out of their car windows in a show of support. As we entered downtown DC, with its glass buildings, you could see employees inside offices with their fists in the air in solidarity. I’m not often moved to tears but that day the tears were plentiful. I knew I was a part of something.
As a DC resident, it was, and still is, very surreal going Downtown. The boarded- up stores, charred remains of whatever was burned the night before, and let’s not forget the military Humvees on each street corner are a far cry from the city I thought I knew. As the days progressed, so did the protests. They went from marching for miles, chanting, shouting at the police, and subsequently being pepper sprayed to what we have today— a segment of 16th street being named Black Lives Matter Plaza. Representative of the change we want to see in our neighborhoods, this area is now a community gathering point with live music, tents selling merchandise, tables of free food, and I even witnessed a wedding taking place the other day. Peaceful protestors have occupied Downtown DC and I think they will stay until there is real change or the National Guard kicks them out again—whichever comes first.
I’ve been out there ten days, and counting, and will continue to hit the streets, camera in hand. We are living history, on multiple levels, and I will be an active participant.
