Back in the winter of 2016, a little less than a year after the Baltimore Uprising, I was able to see Allen and his work in person at a gallery opening in Philadelphia. I'd been familiar with his most iconic photos already, and remember being struck by the power of his work beyond them that I got to encounter there. I had recently moved to a neighborhood of North Philly that in many ways paralleled the communities Allen came from and was documenting in Baltimore, and I loved the ways his work captured both the beauty and brokenness there, with an emphasis on the former rather than the latter. Nearly four years later, I discovered that this book had been published and was eager to order a copy given how much his work had resonated with me in the gallery.
It was a happy surprise to see the five essays offering a prelude to the photographs, and I think the book is strengthened significantly by them. Those written by Keeanga-Yahmatta Taylor and Aaron Bryant are more academic, offering critical sociohistorical context to the realities of Baltimore that set the stage for the Uprising and giving language and framework to some of the uniquely impactful ways Allen's photographs speak to that. The ones penned by D. Watkins, Wes Moore, and Gail Allen-Kearny are more personal, sharing anecdotes about Allen, Freddie Gray, and Baltimore at large; the one by Allen-Kearny provides an especially effective and accessible timeline of the three decades preceding the era the photos were taken through the eyes of someone who was there for it all. The poetry by Tariq Touré also offers moving openings for the two sections of photographs.
The photographs themselves are organized into two sections. "A Beautiful Ghetto" features a collection of mostly candid images featuring everyday life in Black communities of Baltimore. There are some that depict its hardships, sometimes explicitly when Allen focuses on a dilapidated building, a needle found on the ground, or a makeshift street shrine for someone who has past. Other times, these realities are featured subtly in the background as buildings with boarded up windows or shirts that proclaim "we must stop killing each other." However, as I noted above and as the title proclaims, it's clear that Allen's purpose in this collection is to portray his community with love, appreciation, and honor rather than derision or judgement. To that extent, there are far more photos that show moments of joy, community, and the simple resilience of ordinary life: people sitting on stoops and in front of corner stores, young boys playing in an open fire hydrant and older ones riding motorbikes. These are interspersed with more formal portraits, some of which feel subtly subversive in contrast to who is often portrayed in the pages of a book of photographs. There are ways in which some of these images feel cliche, like stock footage of "inner city" scenes, but in many you can see an intimacy with the subject that's likely been earned by Allen's lifelong presence there (though there are still some in which his subject seems to regard him with befuddlement, reservation, or even anger). My assumption is that many of these are from the earlier days in his career, and there are some that I didn't find much artistry or impact in that maybe could've been cut or replaced, but overall it's a strong collection.
In the second section, "Uprising," the same critique could be leveled at some of the images that are featured, but benefits from a more cohesive and consistent thematic story across all the images that elevates lackluster photos into a larger narrative. Many of these photographs are stunning on their own (including the one featured on the cover) but the collection as a whole is what's truly phenomenal. Allen truly captured the entirety of an uprising of social movement and resistance, and throughout the images you're given a strong sense of the spectrum of emotions, from outrage and tension and devastation and hope, through the cadre of moments of he presents. Compared to the first section, the craftsmanship here feels radically advanced and a number of the shots are premier examples of framing, focus, and shadowplay. Given the subject material, many of these photos are strikingly cinematic, and thus only imbued with more power by the recognition that they're all real. If "A Beautiful Ghetto" is a love song from Allen to his community's oft-ignored beauty, then "Uprising" is an amplification of that which offers us an ode to their power. I'm eager to see Allen's trajectory from here, but this will be a difficult first book to beat.