Rashod Taylor, Interviewed by Conner Gordon

From James Baldwin’s Notes of a Native Son to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, the line between father and son has been a key way that Black writers have examined what it means to navigate life in America. In Coates’ and Baldwin’s works, this examination appears in the lessons the authors inherited from their own fathers: knowledge passed down both intentionally and subconsciously, driven by a parent’s need to protect their child from the fear and malice of white people. At the core of this relationship lies an element familiar to any parent: a deep, vulnerable love for a child, and a wish to prepare a future better than the world they have endured.

I am reminded of this interplay as I look at Rashod Taylor’s photographs of his son, LJ. In his project, Little Black Boy, Taylor photographs LJ in moments of rest and play to create images that balance the warmth of a father’s love with the ever-present burden of racism and white supremacy. Working with analog materials, Rashod expands the deliberative process of composing on a large format camera into a meditative space of its own: a time to reflect on the interior worlds he and his son share, and the outside world that LJ will one day face.

Within these meditations, there are echoes of the harsh realities that shape what it means to be Black in America. But there are also moments of remarkable tenderness: LJ wrapped in a blanket, bathing with his mother, pressing his face close to his father’s. As Rashod notes in our interview, at present these moments cannot be fully separated from each other; where one exists, so must the other. But Taylor’s photographs also speak to the hope for a country made better–one in which a father can look upon his son and see the promise of the future, unmarked by racism’s shadow.

C: Could you tell me about how Little Black Boy began? 

R: This project started to simply document my son’s life five years ago, but as I photographed him more, I started to see themes within the images that I wanted to address more intentionally. I wanted the viewer to see what childhood is like growing up Black in America, and also my viewpoint of navigating fatherhood as a Black man trying to get over fears and insecurities while leading my son through his childhood. All of this while displaying the realities of racial inequality and social injustice that are prevalent in our lives. 

With these different themes in mind, I work to package this work in a way that it can show love and tenderness but at the same time highlight the pain and struggles that we go through as people of color. With the work I give it a sense of duality, where one image can be read multiple ways. This, I think, is where the images have the ability to connect and do so with different audiences. 

Ultimately, I want to keep the conversation going in terms of the Black experience and elevate the depiction of Black life which has been very much one-sided by the media and in the consciousness of America. I see many possibilities for my son, and I want these images not only to capture who he is and what he can accomplish, but also to show that Black children have bright futures and can make an impact despite having a handicap that other children simply don’t have, based on the color of their skin.

C: What is the dialogue like between you and your son in these photos? What role does he play in the whole image-making process?  

R: As he gets older, there is more dialog and collaboration with this series. I typically have an idea and simply communicate what I want him to do. Oftentimes I tell him to think of something–happy, sad, look here, look there. As we work more together, we start to talk more about how different things make him feel. He plays an important role in the photographs, as it is a collaboration, He makes it known if he doesn’t want to do something, and I respect that. I try to keep the process of image-making loose and as spontaneous as you can with shooting large format.

C: What have you learned about your son and your relationship with him as you’ve made this work?

R: I have learned that ice cream makes everything better and that he will probably grow up and be a master negotiator. I feel that we are closer. When we photograph, we talk about what’s going on in his life and what makes him happy and sad and try to portray that in an image. As he gets older, he is more of a collaborator with the work. We spend a lot of time together, so this is one thing that we can do that he enjoys. I am excited that he still enjoys being photographed, so I will keep doing it as long as he lets me.

C: One of the images that really stands out for me in this project is Reflection of Me. I love that these kinds of projects are as much about the artist as they are about the subject. What have you learned about yourself in the process of making this work?

R: I have learned that photography is a medium that has helped me work through my own thoughts, emotions and insecurities. It’s a way I can get things out, and it’s cheaper than therapy.

C: I’m struck by how private and intimate the moments you photograph are, especially given the larger context in which you’re making this work. I imagine it can feel incredibly vulnerable focusing on the effects of issues like racism on something as personal as your relationship with your son. How have you navigated that tension in your work?

R: I want this work to be vulnerable and intimate, I feel like there is not much attention put on the Black American experience in this light or at least in the mainstream. I partly navigate tension in my work by simply making work. It has served as a way to work through my feelings and effects of the world around me. It is an outlet for self-expression which I infuse in this work. 

The second aspect is that this tension is a part of my family’s everyday life. We live in a place that is reflective of the deep-rooted racism and white supremacy that have been woven into America since the beginning. From that standpoint, these images are an extension of the life we navigate. At the same time with the tension there is still hope, happiness and love in these images. The cool part is that through the tension I want to bring the viewer back to the good things of childhood, family and growing up Black in America.

C: I’d be curious to hear whether there are photos you make of your family that remain in a strictly personal realm–images that you keep just for yourselves. 

R: Yes, there are plenty of images on my iPhone that I need to print and also many rolls of film and prints that I have that wouldn’t be a part of this work and will just stay within the family. The interesting thing I think about is that yes, maybe some of these photos may stay private for now, but I do want people to see them at some point. Maybe when I’m long gone, they will do an exhibition of my “unseen works” or something.

C: What do you hope these images will mean to your son and your family, both now and in the future? 

R: I hope these images will capture and represent moments in his childhood that he can look back at and appreciate. He won’t have a perfect childhood, but a happy one. I want him to remember that his parents were there to help guide and support him. Also, to remember the precious time and memories that we made that he can hold on to now and share with his own family one day.

See more of Rashod’s work here.