Freddie L Rankin II’s Tender Portraits of Black Joy and Leisure

A native of Memphis, Tennessee, Freddie L Rankin II is a photographic artist whose passion for the medium has seen him on journeys across the Caribbean, Europe and United States in a pursuit to capture “the untold story of life as an African American male in a cross-cultural world.”

After completing his MFA at Bard College, the artist began a portrait series “The Lay Out Collection” commemorating the significance of Juneteenth through a deliberate portrayal of Black people in moments of joy, pleasure and leisure. Photographed in Fort Greene Park in Brooklyn, the portraits reflect a need for the agency and self-expression of Black individuals, particularly in images. The stillness captured in this series illuminates the activism in rest and quietness – an idea that the artist has explored in other works and mediums as well.

Oladunni Oladipo 
I would love for you to speak about your inspiration for this series as well as the driving force in your highlighting Blackness in this subdued-yet-striking format.

Freddie L Rankin II
Contextually, the notions of Black liberation and independence are a dream pairing in thinking about these photographs and how they operate. The concepts of leisure and pleasure and joy have really been foundational to my practice over the last five years, so it was a natural progression for me to document my community in this way against the backdrop of the pandemic and social unrest.

As an inspirational source, I think about the 1900 Paris Exposition, where WEB Du Bois presented Thomas Askew’s portraits of Black people from the American South to offer a dignified depiction of Black people at that time. On the other side of that, I think about Malick Sidibé’s photographs from Mali around the country’s independence in 1960. That time was very joyful, and his images resonate today as a source of how we think about Black joy and Black pride.

Oladunni Oladipo 
Has your process or this series been informed by the United States’s formal recognition of Juneteenth as a federal holiday?

Freddie L Rankin II
Juneteenth has been a mainstay since I was a child. I have vivid memories of going to Douglass Park in Memphis, which is where I’m from, to celebrate with my family and other members of the neighborhood and community. So the federal acknowledgement of observance doesn’t really impact me that much. Since the series began before that mandate was even on the docket, I do understand that I will have to contend with an increased social consciousness around Juneteenth and how that recognition of Black liberation manifests within our current social climate.

What was your earliest conception of Juneteenth?

Oladunni Oladipo 
As a Nigerian, I wasn’t aware of Juneteenth until I went to college and had greater exposure to Black American history. Its status as a federal holiday is a step in the right direction, however I would hate to lose sight of the work that’s been done to get here and the work that remains to be done. Where we go from here is more important than where we are in this moment.

Freddie L Rankin II
I agree, it’s an opportunity to think about what’s been done and what still needs to be done. Historically, we still have this notion of “40 acres and a mule” to contend with alongside all this new social consciousness that acknowledges Blackness in a real way, if you will.

Oladunni Oladipo
You took these portraits at Fort Greene in Brooklyn over the last few years. Can you speak about the site specificity of the project? What does the park represent to you within the canon of Black art and liberation?

Freddie L Rankin II
For me the idea of site specificity is threefold. You have Fort Greene, which is considered a historically Black neighborhood that has since been gentrified. It’s site specific in the time of COVID as well as an era of social unrest, where Black people have been unjustly killed by police brutality. So the photographs are grounded in multiple points of context.

But then I deliberately use a backdrop to remove the sitter from this geographical and social context, and to allow the sitter just to be – in a very passive yet active sense. I think about joy and its representations in relation to Blackness. We often visualize it in a way where being Black, being joyful and being confident means being physically active. Here I’m thinking about spaces where we can be all of those things without having to show certain markings, where you can express Blackness and joy and activism through, for example, sitting and reading a book.

I think about the artist Dominic Chambers, who I consider to be a provocateur of leisure – his paintings represent Blackness through leisurely activities. Derrick Adams uses sculpture and the figure to deploy different ideas of Black leisure. And Naima Green has a series called “Jewels from the Hinterland” where she depicts Black people in green spaces around New York. For me, the representation of the park offers both a specific historical context and a space for public leisure – which has always been a contentious point for Black people in America. This series really acknowledges the efforts of people to create spaces for safety.

Oladunni Oladipo 
You mentioned how the sitter exists in front of the camera. Can you elaborate on what sort of instruction, if any, you give them while posing? I know many of them come across your studio while walking through the park having a good time.

Freddie L Rankin II
The setup is pretty minimal: I have my backdrop and an assistant, on occasion. I use only natural light, which allows me to be nimble in the space. Outside of the frame, you’ve got a DJ playing music and people lounging about enjoying themselves – it’s like Ernie Barnes’s The Sugar Shack painting.

Truly the portrait is made between me and the sitter. I carve out a moment for them to feel comfortable and to feel seen, to give them the agency to represent themselves in the way that they see fit. It’s about how they want to be depicted. When it comes to giving direction, I might see a gesture or a glance or an emotion and ask them to return to that, but I try not to stage the portraits.

Also, I’m shooting on film – medium and large format. On any given day I might take between 100 and 200 portraits. So there’s not a lot of back and forth. They present themselves to me fully and I capture one or two frames. It then becomes a documentation of a moment in time for them and me and everyone else who gets to see the work over the years to come.

Oladunni Oladipo 
What do you hope that viewers of the portraits will take away from them?

Freddie L Rankin II
Well, what do you take from them?

Oladunni Oladipo 
I’m particularly struck by what you’ve said about agency and how people desire to present themselves to the world. That really comes across in these images – they seem to depict an individual in almost their purest form. The minimalism of the backdrop and the staging really allow this idea of leisure and joy to stand out.

Freddie L Rankin II
I definitely want people to see rest and leisure as active forms of resistance. I want to show that the action can be in the resting – it can be in finding community, in healing one another, in sharing our energy. And then how we contextualize that against everything that’s going on in the world? How can we further develop how we think about Black joy, leisure and rest through images that will continue to resonate in 10 or 20 years once today’s dust settles?

The project will continue on the eve of Juneteenth this Sunday in Fort Greene Park. It has always been a continuation – I feel as though I’m a vessel to document the people around me, a living and breathing archive and an attempt to truly give agency to Black people and allow them to be represented in the way that they see fit, with no agenda to push. It’s about showing up, being present, finding community, serving as a support system and creating a space where everyone can think about what that means on their own terms.