A Dance of Rivers
By Chester Higgins, Jr. Dec. 18, 2014
Every photographer brings his or her unique experiences to an assignment — the lens through which we see the world. When I arrived at The New York Times in 1975, I felt the media was immune to any real comprehension of the world I knew well. I wanted to share the history and traditions of the people I grew up with — to help broaden the bridge of understanding between the majority and minority cultures in this country.
On my first trip to Africa in 1971, I fell in love with African people and their cultures. In 1974 I approached The Times with photographs of famine in the Sahel, and the Op-Ed page featured three of these photos. A few months later, I landed a staff position at the paper and continued my focus on issues of African and African-American culture.
In the 1980s, I introduced the newspaper to an ad hoc group of African-Americans, who came together annually at sunrise in Coney Island to honor Africans lost at sea during the Middle Passage. In 1995, I focused attention on an annual weeklong event, created by a Brooklyn church in East New York, to commemorate the untold millions of Africans forced to endure the Middle Passage and enslavement. When Kwanzaa was still a little-known, struggling celebration, I made numerous calls annually to seek out dramatic photographic possibilities.
For me, the focal point of African-American community life is often the church. Over the years I have photographed in many local churches, mostly in Brooklyn, Queens and Harlem, on Sundays to document what a powerful tool tradition can be in helping people maintain emotional and spiritual balance.
Throughout my career at The Times, I have worked to bring to my editors photographic opportunities that highlight ethnic identity. Many of the resulting photos have run in the newspaper and today reside in its archives. I like to think these photographs can work as catalysts for expanding and enriching our understanding of each other.
The origin of one of my favorites photos dates to when I was in high school, when my mother introduced me to the poems of Langston Hughes. In college, I came to appreciate the works of Amiri Baraka and then, later, I discovered Maya Angelou’s writings. So when I heard that the New York Public Library’s Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture was honoring the memory of Langston Hughes in an evening ceremony, I reached out to the center’s then-director, Howard Dodson. Learning that Amiri Baraka and Maya Angelou were on the program, I knew I would go. I asked the newspaper’s night editor if there could be space for a photo of the event.
At the conclusion of the program, filled with poetry readings and accolades for Langston Hughes, a jazz combo livened the tempo. As I watched, Amiri Baraka asked Maya Angelou to dance and walked her to the “I’ve Known Rivers” Cosmogram — the focal point of the celebration, newly set into the floor over the ashes of Langston Hughes. As the two poets danced, the energy of the crowd focused on them. The room came alive as everyone applauded.
In this impromptu tribute to Langston Hughes, I believe these two African-American icons created a moment that reflected our collective love for poets of African descent and the continuity of African creative genius.
