Bøger af Michelle Elmore

I started visiting New Orleans barbershops on Friday afternoons. Many of the subjects in my monograph “Ya Heard Me” were Gangsta’ Rap artists. I began documenting their day-to-day lifestyles in the neighborhoods they were from. In the two years leading up to Hurricane Katrina, I shot thousands of photographs of these young people. I realized the moniker “soldiers” by which they refer to themselves was not an affectation. The average life expectancy in this demographic is 25 years. They speak, live and interact with an urgency that I would imagine exists on battlefields. I have personally witnessed over 50 shootings. One day, one of my subjects was shot through the chest. The bullet passed through his body, missing both his heart and spine by fractions of an inch. Apparently, the slug was so hot that it cauterized the wound on the way through and it didn’t bleed. He went home to lie down for a few hours and was back on the street the next day.

New Orleans is so rich in culture. It's a necessity and important to document the inhabitants of New Orleans no matter how many people documented it before. The people in the monograph “Come See About Me” became my family. I knew everybody, and I did meaningful portraits for people on the street. They expected me to do their portrait, and they would come on Sundays with the family dressed nice, and I would do an on-the-spot family portrait in a huge crowd situation. They loved the process and would pay me five dollars the following week for the portrait. I made enough money on Sundays to support myself… and it gave me street credibility because no one else was bringing the pictures back to the people. They were taking (stealing) their pictures and never returning. The New Orleans people really loved my images and appreciated them. They hung them on their walls at home in recognition and celebration. They would always say: ‘Don’t Forget to Come See About Me.’

I’ll never forget that first time a saw a New Orleans Mardi Gras Indian. I was driving home while the sun was setting and there was a flash of orange feathers. My heart jumped. I didn’t take many photos that day, just three. Then, I handed my camera to some people with the Indians to take my picture with them. I was enamored from the start. Previous pictures I saw of the Indians focused on the suits blocking out the faces. With the incredible amount of work and art that went into these suits, I felt it was important to include the faces of these artists. It felt like it was no longer my art. It was an extension of what they were doing, and a way to honor what they had created. Their art is expensive and hard to do, and it isn’t done for monetary gain. I admire that, and I relate. And over time we got to know each other very well. The Indians began asking me to come out with them to take pictures. The Black Feathers had me document the images of my monograph Let's Go Get Em' on St. Joseph’s Night, when the Indians come out after sunset.