Within the Davis Museum’s own collection, I find Rashid Johnson and Hank Willis Thomas’s photograph entitled “Portrait of Two American Artists as Young Negro Scholars” (digital chromogenic print; 2008) to be visually and formally striking, in addition to presenting a reconsideration of stereotypical representations of black men.

Portrait of Two American Artists as Young Negro Scholars, Rashid Johnson and Hank Willis Thomas, 2008

As noted by Thelma Golden, mainstream images of black men typically fall into three predictable paradigms: “sex, crime and sports.” (Golden, 27) However, this works falls outside this standard prescription of the black male form. In viewing the photograph, I perpetually wonder what it accomplishes and I often return to Golden’s question of black masculinity representing a contradiction in terms. (Golden, 19) While the author uses this question to posit whether black masculinity is inherently contradictory, I wonder what contradictions this photograph presents to the stereotypical representations of black men. They are not sexualized, athletes or criminals; they therefore work against the simplified depictions of black bodies and present themselves in a distinctly different fashion (intentionally, I would argue, based upon the title) as scholars. In Golden’s red-black-green theoretical color scheme, this image occupies the red, not only challenging rampant negative stereotypes, but also proving that “there is no one black masculinity.” (Golden, 25) In stark contrast, as discussed by Leigh Raiford’s Imprisoned in a Luminous Glare, the eponymous image of Huey Newton seated in a wicker chair, gun in hand, served as a political and tactical tool for the Black Panther Party. Undoubtedly, photography served as a deeply intentional medium for the widespread dissemination of the image that came to be synonymous with the political prowess of the BPP. As noted by Kobena Mercer, the black male body is inscribed with ideological representations and serves as “a site upon which the nation’s crisis comes to be dramatized, demonized, and dealt with.” (As quoted within Golden, 19) While this image served as a political tool for the BPP, it also embodied the fears of the American media and many politicians, who framed the BPP as militant and hypermasculine. The image puts both the BPP and black masculinity under a veil of violence and therefore plays to Golden’s argument that “media fascination” telescopes its attention to representations of black men as threatening. (Golden, 27)

Throughout both the Black Male Whitney exhibition catalogue and within Looking for Langston, references to Robert Mapplethorpe perpetually raise the question of the subjecthood the men he photographs. Mapplethorpe’s Black Book (1986) relentlessly sexualizes the male body in formally stunning photographs that coalesce within his “world of splendor and sexual enthrallment.” (Golden, 33) The photographs—debated, denounced and often censored—are incredibly beautiful representations of the nude male form that have largely been countered as racialized and problematic. While Golden argues that “the controversy they provoked… speaks volumes about the fear of black masculinity,” his fascination with the male form presents decontextualized bodies who, by and large, lack subjecthood. (Golden, 33) Mapplethorpe’s approach speaks directly to the sexualization of the black body (and, in many ways, perpetuates this sexualization) while also attempting to “detach compulsive heterosexuality from black masculinity.” (Golden, 33) I would be curious to gauge class perception about whether these images are exploitative or progressive because while they strip men of their subjecthood (and their clothes), they also debunk the hegemonic heterosexuality of representations of black masculinity.