Photographer LeRoy Henderson has spent decades documenting history through his lens. Writer and advocate Hakima Alem reflects on his journey, artistry, and enduring impact.
Angela Davis, Madison Square Garden, 1975. © LeRoy Henderson
When I met LeRoy Henderson in early January 2024, he walked slowly through the front door. His nephew was carrying a box of his seventeen photographs to be included in the exhibition. After I welcomed them both, Henderson showed a friendly smile under his pinch-front fedora. His demeanor lit up as we got to planning the show.
He pulled out a portrait of his grandparents in the 1980s standing before their 50th wedding anniversary cake. The low angle of the shot leaves his grandparents looking prideful and content, although the cake is slightly tilted. Henderson, in his 80s, stood over the image while describing Richmond, Virginia, where he was born.
The following photograph was a shot of Stokely Carmichael (Kwame Ture) giving a speech in 1967. It looks like a still from a movie as Carmichael stands center wearing sunglasses with his mouth almost against the microphone. “I wish I could hear what he was saying,” I whispered under my breath.
He continued to unpack photographs of political events that changed the world, moments he captured of Black icons, everyday Americans, and more of his own family and hometown. He received a Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Arts from Virginia State University, a Master’s Degree in Fine Arts from Pratt Institute, and then studied at the School of Visual Arts. He later revealed that he has certificates in PBS filmmaking and TV directing from the Academy of TV Arts & Sciences. The integrity and honesty of his work are that of a true journalist, but his photographs, in their composition and dynamic range, are also incredibly inviting, making them all the more powerful.
Over 8,000 Black artists in group and solo shows of all mediums and forms have been exhibited at The Wilmer Jennings Gallery at Kenkeleba House in New York City since it opened in the 1980s. The gallery, founded and run by Corine Jennings, Joe Overstreet, and Samuel C. Floyd, is located in the Lower East Side.
In February 2024, Howard Cash and Jamel Shabaaz curated ‘Long Journey Forward: Black Men in Passage’, a photography show featuring forty-four male and female photographers. Images of Black icons, religion, family, musicians, protest, and portraits came together to tell a story of Black manhood within the diaspora. The wide range of images spoke not only to the endurance and excellence of Black men but also of the everyday soft and intimate moments of simply being human.
People often walk by the gallery without knowing it’s there, but some of the most beautiful things go unnoticed. The inside is large and warm, with light brown floorboards sprawling to the back and into another two rooms to the left. The Wilmer Jennings Gallery at Kenkeleba House is integral to the Black art community, providing a space of artistic growth, connection, and metamorphosis. It was the first photography show since I began working there in the summer of 2023. I did not expect to get to know Henderson, who created a cardinal body of work both artistically and historically. It was a great honour.
Housing camps at the Poor People’s Campaign Rally in Washington, D.C. in July 1968. © LeRoy Henderson
Henderson is a historian who utilises the camera and his fine art knowledge to tell the story of the moment. His effort to document the times has left us with many images capturing American history through his eyes. His body of work contains a multitude of worlds that I will never experience but inherently connects all Black people.
I wanted to ask him about artistry, community, and journalism, so I was thrilled when he agreed to be interviewed. On a cold Sunday morning a few blocks away from the gallery in my tiny bedroom, I gave him a call and began taking notes of everything he said. I had his photographs up on my laptop. I stared at Angela Davis’s face as he spoke. The rarity of his images and dedication to being in the right place at the right time. I wondered how and what I would leave behind of my time in the world.
Henderson, exacting in his words, has a clear notion of his artistry and the importance of the people and places he has cemented in time. But how did he get there? We start with his childhood in rural Virginia. He recalls an old box camera in his childhood home and how images in the local paper fascinated him and piqued his interest in photography. On his thirteenth birthday, he received a Brownie Hawkeye Kodak, but teaching fine arts was his path after high school.
He attended Pratt and then taught art in New York City for three years at Bay Ridge, Williamsburg, and East New York schools. “Then I went to the Army, stationed in Germany.”
He began describing his time in the Counterintelligence Corps with a surprisingly gentle tone. He told me he had no curfews and had much free time to visit places like the Musée Rodin and the Louvre. He took photos of Venus de Milo and visited the Cologne Cathedral in West Germany. “I saw castles and medieval towns along the Rhine River.” I could hear the excitement that those memories evoked, revealing to me the young man who was still within him.
For a year and a half, far away from home, he poured history and knowledge into himself. “I bought a second-hand car over there. I drove all over to Denmark, Sweden, down into Switzerland, Belgium, and Austria.” He recalled visiting and photographing children at an orphanage, drawing in colored chalk on the streets of Amsterdam, and all of the strangers who became friends.
One man who spoke no English taught him German and vice versa. He bought himself a flute and learned how to play. “You have to get out of here because there is more in this world than New York and America,” he tells me.
In traveling, the artist is forced to open themselves up and understand what is unknown to them. I found a therapeutic hopefulness in his stories of Europe, that as a Black man, he found humanity and friendship across the world.
After leaving the Army, Henderson attended the School of Visual Arts in New York City and became officially tied to his camera. He studied Photojournalism, human values, colour, and black-and-white photography. “My fine arts background in a subtle way, was a very key contributor to my eye and how I saw images and decided to capture them,” he tells me.
Eager to discuss his precise sense of composition and subject, I asked him what led him to start attending political events. While still attending SVA, he said, “I ventured out to put together a portfolio of my photography, it was kind of amateur, but I went out and started looking for jobs.” He described the political strife of daily life back in America and that he felt compelled to capture it. The Poor People’s Campaign was a plea for economic and basic human rights for all Americans. An organised set of demands was given to Congress while more than three thousand people set up encampments on the Washington Mall. This lasted for six weeks up until the spring of 1968. Young people, students, families, activists, and organisers lived and breathed for the justice they were demanding.
Mrs. Rosa Parks, 1972. © LeRoy Henderson
Henderson received a press pass from the New York contingent, so he set out for DC, where he began shooting at the Lincoln Memorial. He described the scene as a “muddy quagmire,” saying, “People from far and wide came with plywood and plastic materials and built a little community on the mall… it was called Resurrection City.” His photographs of the movement founded by Martin Luther King Jr. and continued by Ralph Abernathy following King’s assassination are like fossils we should cherish. Walking along the margins of the chaos and photographing the small moments that made up the historic event show the artistic intent behind simply hitting a button on a camera.
He states, “I got Mrs. King and her children.” The image of Coretta Scott King is one of her framed by her family and holding her daughter. The closeness of the image makes you forget the chaos and magnitude of the moment. The faces and organisers of movements are everyday people who have made personal sacrifices to dedicate their lives to change. Henderson’s photos are relics of our past, and they have shown me that revolution is not a single moment or single protest but a constant evolution with peaks and valleys. Art and activism are similar in that they are a bearing witness. Photography tells the truth without saying anything, which is why his photographs taught me about it then and now.
He continued to take to the streets, capturing visually interesting moments within the Civil Rights Movement and the Anti-Vietnam War protests. In 1972, Henderson headed to The National Black Political Convention, held in Gary, Indiana. Held at a large high school lot, he took photos of people like Jesse Jackson, Amiri Baraka, and Issac Hayes. “That’s where I got that famous picture of Rosa Parks looking at that poster of Malcolm X… someone was selling posters and she picked up that one of Malcolm, and I happened to recognise her. Nobody seemed to know who she was. It was a candid shot,” he says.
From his shots of his family to the Civil Rights Movement, his photographs of real-life moments look like paintings. The content of his works is heightened by the quality and compositions of his images. His attention to light, figure, framing, and subject comes naturally to him instantly. “Shooting in black and white made it easy to get good contrast as long as there was available light,” he remarks about the 17 black and white photographs featured at the Wilmer Jennings Gallery. I told him I had been introduced to his work while in undergrad when I saw his “Black Ballerina,” a photograph he captured in 1992 in Brooklyn. Henderson was there to shoot images of a children’s recital, but when he saw the girl featured in the image waiting before the show, he immediately reached for his black and white film, “a truly candid shot,” he says over the phone. The signature image was shown at the Armory Expo, where the June Kelly Gallery had a booth. Oprah Winfrey ended up seeing it and bought it.
The ballerina stands with her head tilted and hands folded in front of her. Her mind seems elsewhere as she leans against the Marble Relief sculpture of white figures dancing on the wall behind her. “I was always looking for interesting images… it didn’t have to be the focal point. I wanted to capture the drama and tell the whole story,” says Henderson, exactly what he has done with the ballerina. History unfolds within the contextual layers of the image. The image can mean many things depending on the viewer and their experiences. To me, the girl in the image beautifully disrupts the whiteness of Ballet without knowing it. From her pose to her white tutu and the framing of the image. What’s important to Henderson seems to be the honesty and intention behind a photograph. You can’t tell your viewers what to believe or feel, and you can only confront them with what is.
Dance recital in Brooklyn, 1992. © LeRoy Henderson
Henderson told me about his life and career in New York City, describing a life within a working artist community. I wanted to know the way he saw things. How can an artist build a career and survive in a system that centres capital and property over creation and community?
He said, “I was in a group that used to meet at Tony Barboza’s studio on the West Side. A bunch of us used to meet on Sunday and form a group… Tony let me use his darkroom… All of us Black photographers were part of a big support network.” Henderson referred to The Kamoinge Workshop, a photography collective founded in 1963. Together, the group photographed and documented all parts of the African diaspora. They shared, edited, and critiqued each other’s work. The word Kamoinge comes from the Kikuyu language, mainly spoken in Kenya, and means “a group of people working together.”
Another of their members is photographer Adger Cowens, who was also included in Long Journey Forward: Black Men in Passage last February. “Adger is one of my oldest friends in New York,” says Henderson. Another of his featured photographs was a shot of Earl G. Graves in his office planning the launch of Black Enterprise magazine. He was close friends with Graves as well.
The opening of the show was on a very cold day. So many people were huddled inside that the gallery windows filled with fog. The front door was propped open, and people spilled onto the street. Friends, family, artists, and lovers of expression were all around. Sticking together and sharing resources had led all the photographers, the gallery itself, and Corrine Jennings to that moment. Jamel Shabazz, surrounded by people and flashing cameras, made a speech celebrating the accomplishments of all the photographers. Pressed against the wall and struggling to hold up my drink, we all toasted to the moment.
What is the most important thing to an artist? I ask Henderson, knowing I did not keep my promise that we would speak for only an hour.
“You have to love life, you have to care for people, and you have to be interested in what’s going on… that’s the whole point. … Otherwise, things will happen all around you, and you won’t be involved,” he says.
Henderson has developed the habit of being on the scene. Whether on assignment or not, throughout his career, he has found himself documenting some of the most important people and moments in American history. I think of Henderson’s career as being remarkably between photojournalism and classical photography in dealing with visual expression.
Henderson says, “I thought of myself as trying to record things going on in my time.” To me, it’s clear that being involved in community and documentation has naturally centred Henderson and his work for many years. It is inspiring to meet a true artist and to hear firsthand how his journey unfolded.
Knowing that Henderson has captured photographs of people like Richard Pryor, Shirley Chisholm, Jackie Onassis, John Coltrane, Robin Williams, Dick Gregory, and so many others, I wanted to know before our call ended what in his career he is most proud of.
In Henderson’s words, he “caught people that were iconic,” but he went on to talk about the day a group of middle school children visited the Wilmer Jennings Gallery on one of the last days of the exhibition. I watched as a generation too young to recognise images of figures like Muhammad Ali, Muammar Gaddafi, and Whitney Young walked around the gallery inspecting each image.
Henderson made his way around the gallery, eagerly answering questions and detailing who the people in his photos were. “I would hope my work resonates with them… I would like to think my work will hold up and inspire kids to do stuff like that.” Not only has his work inspired multiple generations of people, but it has and will always serve as a witness: a witness to American history, Black history, and personal accounts of Henderson’s life.
Keith and Uncle Philip © LeRoy Henderson
For almost two months, as the coldest part of winter passed, I watched as artists, students, and passersby interrogated and connected with the photographs. Black men from different African, Caribbean, and European countries were in awe of Henderson’s work. Discussions of Black male vulnerability, Pan-Africanism, and Western Imperialism were held in front of those images.
I felt Henderson’s work and the other forty-three photographers were catalysts for Black people and artists to reflect and celebrate the Black community and creation. I slowly realised over the weeks that all of these seasoned artists did not centre hardship, oppression, or Blackness in relation to whiteness in their creations or the ways they speak to one another.
Black art has not only been marginalised but is often assumed to always be in discussion with oppression rather than individual human experience. Henderson and his peers focus on supporting one another, not on what “the other” is doing to us. Within the gallery’s walls, we are the centre of the world, and the art is documentation of that world.
Although the images throughout the show pertained to the Civil Rights Movement and anti-Black oppression worldwide, those things are not the centre or where the story begins. I witnessed artistic community and growth in real time, inciting me to be present and understand that creation comes with living and sharing small moments with others.
After watching Henderson interact with all of those children, with tentativeness, I decided to ask him for an interview.
Hakima Alem is an Ethiopian writer based in New York City. She has a degree in written arts from Bard College. Her work encompasses documentary film, contemporary art, African diaspora art, travel, and human rights. Alem started Adoptee Diaries, a multifaceted platform dedicated to advocacy, mentorship, community building, and telling the stories and truth of Ethiopian adoptees. She has dedicated her work to advocating for the rights of Ethiopian children who are often abused or killed after being adopted and brought to Western countries. Art, writing, expression, and advocacy are at the core of her work as she hopes to highlight East African life throughout her career. @writtenbyhakima
