BmoreArt

Allen’s visual openness is exemplified through photos that carry their own individual narratives as well as contribute to an overarching narrative. While I can’t wax on about every photo here (although truthfully, I’d like to), two in the first room grip me because they seem as if they’re having a conversation. 

“Untitled – 6” may seem like a simple snapshot of a Black boy in Baltimore, maybe at age 10 or 11. Donning a jean jacket and gold fronts, he is looking over his shoulder out of a car. But at a closer look, your eye is driven to the lively, mischievous look in his eyes. Despite how I try to ignore it, this young man reminds me of my nephew who we lost to gun violence early this spring. The driver, who Allen has consciously blurred, by allowing for a wider aperture, drives the viewer’s eye non-stop to the young boy, who represents the hope and heart of so many of us right now. 

Directly across the room is “7-11-7-11-Seven,” focusing on the hands of two Black men playing dice whose faces are edited out of the frame. This pair may be in contrast with one another—one in a white sweatshirt and the other semi bathed in darkness. Are they two sides of the same coin, different coins? Good and evil? Good and better? Ponder that later—the focus here rests on the jeans, the gold watch, and most importantly a clean white sneaker trapping those 20-dollar bills on the ground. The young man holding more money casts a fierce shadow on the ground.

And I can’t help but wonder if the boy pictured in “Untitled – 6”will become one or both of them in the future? Or perhaps he’s looking at the two playing dice and deciding which road he’ll traverse. There’s also the possibility (in my imagination) that the two have a son, little brother, or family friend–that they’re giving a future warning. The visual possibilities to create discussions are endless. 

This conversation between photos as I experience it, is like a Tribe album on repeat—addictive at every turn, but it’s not surprising considering Dr. Myrtis Bedolla and Allen have worked together before. In 2023 Bedolla curated the The Radical Voice of Blackness Speaks of Resistance in Annapolis, in which Allen’s work was featured.

This familiarity in presentation, the curation—a collaboration between Allen, gallery manager Ky Vassor, and sales manager Noel Bedolla, Dr. Bedolla’s son–flows like water. I’ve seen art shows both nationally and internationally and rarely do I experience this kind of stellar curation, where one can sense the trust between artist and venue, a willingness to take risks and highlight an artist’s true voice. 

In the middle room, all on one wall, the photographs evoke family—biological or chosen. In one, a heavy-set black male in a white undershirt feeds his daughter ice cream on a hot day, her face filled with delight. Because Allen is a master at composition, the kids playing behind them in the street almost fade into the background.  Somehow, this one transports me to early, albeit few, memories of my own fleeting moments with my factory-working father. 

In the same wall grouping there’s a busier photograph where a mom holds a toddler, a phone, and entertains another child’s attention. The background is filled with street kids of various ages, sitting on wooden benches. While this combines more individual subjects than most in Textures somehow, you understand the dialogue is that neighborhood IS family.  And for the last photo on this wall, Allen offers us two Muslim men bent over an ornate carpet at prayer time, photographing them from above and behind so they’re both anonymous and familiar, broadening the conversation about who this city is and the numerous ways citizens make family. 

Allen continues to honor Baltimore, and what it offers, by showcasing two young artists alongside himself in the exhibit. The middle and back rooms of the gallery boast photographs and video compilations by Ziggy Sayeed Moorhead and Denzel Mitchell III, both Allen’s mentees. Allen met Moorhead at the BMA and Mitchell at a workshop; this is yet another example of Allen’s ongoing community connections where he continues to share his information and access. 

From Mitchell, a video entitled “The Renaissance is Black” truly shines. The film splices  a dreadlocked male dancing with rich shots of neighborhood people standing, smiling, working–ultimately just living their ordinary lives. Intoxicating drum rhythms and the video edits work seamlessly together. They conjure a mix of love and pride that you won’t easily forget. 

Moorhead’s photo entitled “Bushtree” centers a young African American man standing in the middle of a field of green trees and grass, with brick rowhomes in the distant background. What drew me to it was the whole frame’s cloudy, dream-like texture. Stand in front of it long enough and you might fall into a lovely dream. You can see Allen’s influence in these young men’s work, but more importantly he is passing the torch, even though he’s too young to do so! Expanding your own personal view of Baltimore, Allen opens his heart and lets us take a peek inside. Whether it’s giving cameras out to kids on the streets or sharing Moorhead and Mitchell with us—he’s no stranger to spreading the love, quite literally.  

The viewer gets a sense of the love that was poured into Allen by his mother and grandmother, the first person to put a camera in his hand. So, the last room of the gallery being filled with complex and engaging female images is befitting.

“Baby Hair on Fleek” isn’t just a woman’s head, profiled with finger-waves; it’s a chance again for Allen to show off his attention to composition, light, and shadow. Her light skin stands in stark contrast to the s-shaped finger wave cascading down her jaw. The conversation here is simple, “I’m dope and I’m not afraid to show it.” Allen’s confidence when he’s working in greyscale is evident–it puts him right up there with some of his favorites, such as Carrie Mae Weems and Ming Smith.

A closing image, “Around da way Cowgirl,” is in conversation with an earlier photo up front entitled “Untitled – 7,” depicting an older woman, standing proudly in the street while leaning on a cane. They are the only two 40 X 60 sized images in the exhibition.

In “Cowgirl,” a young girl sits comfortably atop an Arabber’s white horse. Arabber culture has existed in Baltimore since the late 1800’s, best described as people who have horses serving fruits and vegetables to community folks who otherwise may not have access to fresh food. While most think of it as primarily a male culture, this photograph defies that. This young woman is clearly proud—and Allen’s way of shooting her from the vantage point of the ground up gives her the same respect as the close-cropped older female figure with the cane in “Untitled- 7.” Closing out on this photograph creates a full circle moment, highlighting Allen’s reverence for Black women, but more specifically all those women in Allen’s family that kept him on the path that led him to us.

In a city that’s often overlooked and disrespected, the 31 images in Textures of Us are a confirmation that Baltimoreans, and Black people in general, will always continue to sing. However, the singing isn’t a sappy or mundane song. It’s a multi-layered tune, full of layers of love, that pushes the boundaries of what Baltimore is and can be. And all the while that song will continue to resist.  

Roses will continue to grow out of Charm City’s concrete, with Devin Allen’s ongoing photographic oeuvre existing as beautiful, visual proof of Baltimore’s resilience and creative genius. 

It’s just like James Brown used to sing:

We’ve been buked and we’ve been scorned

We’ve been treated bad, talked about 

As sure as you’re born

But just as sure as it takes two eyes to make a pair huh

Brother we can’t quit until we get our share.

Devin Allen’s Textures of Us: A Retrospective exhibit is on view at Gallery Myrtis through January 11, 2025.

January 11, 2025, 2:00 – 4:00 pm, the gallery is hosting Tea with Myrtis, an intimate conversation between Devin Allen and Dr. Myrtis Bedolla. During this special event, Allen will share the stories and inspirations behind his forthcoming book, Devin Allen: Baltimore, while providing insight into his creative process. Registration is required.