Reading this issue of Aperture’s “Liberated Threads” (No. 259, Summer 2025) has been a visceral experience, pulling me back to my own journey of understanding how an image can not only capture a moment but also carry the weight of history and the echo of personal narratives. I found myself thinking of the early photographs I took, the tentative clicks of a disposable camera, and how those seemingly amateur attempts were the genesis of a lifelong fascination with image making. Like Melina Matsoukas, whose reflections open this issue, I too have felt that evolution, from a basic technical understanding to a deeper appreciation of the emotional and societal power embedded in every frame. Her commitment to celebrating Black women, to honouring their role in her life and artistry, strikes a profound chord, resonating with my own desire to see diverse stories elevated and truthfully presented. The meticulous thought she puts into the “song and dance between the gaze and the lens” and the trust she builds with her subjects—qualities I strive for in my own creative pursuits—are evident in her remarkable work on “Queen & Slim” and her visionary collective, De La Revolución. It is truly inspiring to see her fighting for this “renaissance” of Black art to become a “standard,” not a transient moment.

The conversation between Ja’Tovia Gary and Fatima Jamal felt deeply personal, almost like listening in on a shared memory. Jamal’s articulation of turning the camera on herself “to make myself real to myself and to see myself. To leave evidence.” hit me with a particular force. It brought me back to my own nascent photographic efforts, using a clunky digital camera to capture fragments of my teenage self, an attempt to solidify a fleeting identity. Her description of her grandmother’s home as an “African American art and historical museum,” filled with Black renderings and figurines, resonated with the familiar warmth of family homes as living archives, imbued with layers of unspoken history and aesthetic influence. This profound connection to ancestral spaces and the idea of art as “ancestral healing” is a powerful concept that I am increasingly exploring in my own creative work. Gary’s candid reflection on the camera as an “anti-Black instrument” and her personal reckoning with the “obnoxious American tourist” gaze in Ghana offered a poignant reminder of the complex power dynamics at play in photography. Their discussion about finding one’s “sound signature” and the “madness that one undergoes within to birth such a thing” spoke directly to the often solitary and challenging process of bringing a creative vision to fruition. It is a profound recognition of the unseen toil and spiritual journey behind truly authentic expression, something that every artist grapples with.

Devin Allen’s journey as Baltimore’s “Picture Man” is a testament to the unwavering commitment to community and the transformative power of a dedicated gaze. His first focus on documenting the Black Lives Matter protests, then expanding into a nuanced portraiture of Black life, proves a deeply empathetic and insightful artistic practice. I loved his approach to capturing subjects, looking up at them to exemplify their strength, particularly in his images of women with Afros at the Afropunk festival. The image of the “West Baltimore” nails is a striking example of how personal style can become a powerful declaration of identity and place, transforming the mundane into the iconic. His unwavering belief that “the street’s my studio” captures the raw, unfiltered authenticity that makes his work so compelling, it is a philosophy I wholeheartedly embrace, finding endless inspiration in the unrehearsed theatre of everyday life.

Yashua Simmons’s insights into fashion styling as a vehicle for storytelling were utterly captivating. His early fascination with Vibe magazine, which presented Black people in a “fantasy way,” and his later trajectory through the often homogenised world of mainstream fashion publications, speaks to a relentless pursuit of authentic representation. His insistence that his work is not “resistance work” but rather a deeply “authentic and honest” expression of his vision is a crucial distinction. It challenges the sometimes limiting categorisation of Black art solely through a political lens, asserting the right to create beauty and narrative for its own sake. The photographs of his father on horseback in Yonkers, a collaboration with Lelanie Foster for Essence, were undoubtedly a dream project, an exquisite blend of personal honour and artistic innovation. The sheer joy and respect emanating from those images are palpable, reflecting a profound connection that transcends a standard fashion shoot.

Turning to the “Photobook Review” section, I was at once drawn in, echoing your own enthusiasm for the Redux article. My own bookshelves are overflowing with photobooks, and the thought of delving into new ways of seeing and interacting with images is always exciting. The inclusion of Seymour Keita and the mention of his “living archive” was a delight, his work holds a special place in the history of African photography and truly embodies the power of documentation. Your note about Nikki Helms’s hair stories bringing you back to your hairdressing days resonated deeply, reminding me how art can unlock personal memories and professional connections in the most unexpected ways.

The interview with The Eriskay Connection was genuinely fascinating. Their metaphor of publishing as connecting “a small island—the author or the story—with the wider world” perfectly articulates the magic of a well-crafted book. As a passionate devotee of photobooks, I appreciate their rigorous approach to design, their understanding of the book as a tactile, meaningful object. Their adaptability in the face of tighter budgets, pushing for “more radical design decisions,” is a testament to their unwavering commitment to the craft. The Factory feature on Twelvebooks in Tokyo, transforming a warehouse into an accessible art space, offers a hopeful vision for the future of art books, integrating them more seamlessly into everyday life. And as someone who has spent time in graphic design, the article on “Graphic Content” and “The New Typography”, exploring the revolutionary fusion of photography and graphic design, provided a compelling historical context for contemporary visual culture, drawing intriguing parallels between interwar Germany and our current digital landscape. The individual book reviews, from Mike Brodie’s raw observations of transient life to Lele Saveri’s ritualised zine making and Noriko Shibuya’s vibrant captures of youth, further underscore the incredible diversity and enduring power of the photobook as a medium. The attention to detail in Shibuya’s book, with its vertical layout mimicking social media scrolling, proves a thoughtful engagement with how we consume images today.

This issue of Aperture is a rich, evocative collection that not only showcases exceptional photographic work but also delves into the profound personal and societal forces that shape it. It left me contemplating the ongoing dance between the artist’s eye, the subject’s truth, and the enduring legacy of the image.

Regards

Alex