The Artist as Witness in the Era of Black Lives Matter

The U.S. has a long history of police brutality against Black and brown people. But in the early 2010s, as camera phones and social media became more ubiquitous, images of this violence spread across the country and around the world. These visuals were essential in starting conversations and in launching the global Black Lives Matter movement. Crucially, they also highlighted the systemic abuse of Black bodies, which have all too often been reduced to symbols of crime, death, and hatred, further perpetuating harmful stereotypes. In the wake of the tragic losses of Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown Jr., Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and others, artists have looked for ways to spotlight humanity that is frequently overlooked and to awaken compassion in society at large.

Here, we present seven carefully selected pieces that touch upon the climate of racial injustice in the U.S. In one, artist Carrie Mae Weems presents a stark image of her hometown of Portland, Ore., during a protest; in another, photographer Mikael Owunna presents an iridescent man in motion as a way of capturing the “boundless possibility of Black life.” We asked each of the artists to reflect on their work and share how their perspective has changed in the years since they created it.

Cornell Watson

"The idea for this photo came after listening to a friend describe the Black experience days after police murdered George Floyd. In a year when Breonna Taylor was also murdered by police and Ahmaud Arbery was killed by a white mob, my friend, like many Black people, was overwhelmed by America’s racism and the thought of raising his two Black boys in it. On July 4, 2020, I made this photo to illustrate the drowning sensation of being submerged in America’s racial violence on Black bodies.

Five years later, police reform policies have been dismantled, Black Lives Matter murals are being scrubbed, and DEI is public enemy No. 1. The symbolism of this photo is just as relevant today, if not more than it was in 2020."

-Cornell Watson

Alex Christopher Williams

"It was Atlanta’s summer heat and unbearable humidity that brought me to meet this man and his two sons at the water fountain in August 2015. He shared with me how he walked his children to school each morning in a respectable outfit before changing into work clothes at his construction job. It was important for him to educate his sons on how to carry themselves in public, and that dressing and carrying themselves with respect would garner respect from others. He led by example. I was truly struck by this man’s dedication to being a good father and asked to photograph him as he was.

The image of this man was every father to me, a man who did what he had to do to protect his young boys and ensure their success. Ten years later, now a father myself, I am reminded of how these small gestures—acts of protection, lessons in dignity—are acts of resistance. In a world where so many young Black boys have lost their lives simply moving through it, this father’s presence and care hold even greater weight."

-Alex Christopher Williams

Irene Antonia Diane Reece

"My eyes fell on the spectators bearing witness to the America I grew up in. It had already been two years into Trump’s presidency, more violence inflicted, performance, and protests alike. We had experienced the mass media circulation of Black life being taken away, over and over again. To a point that the rest of the world once again became desensitized to Black life. It was bitter. You were met with it. I had rage. Then I cried not out of fear but out of loss. You go through the different stages of grief, having not known folx. That transferred into my work for those first two years. It’s what created Home-goings, and this installation piece you see, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”. Each face is placed on a communion wafer symbolizing that a sacrifice has been made once again in America, and once again, it is my community. It might seem sacrilegious to some, but I see it as canonizing our beloveds.


In recent years, I have found that neutrality will not save us. I must acknowledge the fight, grit, and love our community has given back to ourselves. Keep going. I am waiting for the rest of the world to do the same."

-Irene Antonia Diane Reece

Carrie Mae Weems

"My 2021 series Painting the Town was made after a visit to my hometown of Portland, Ore. During the massive demonstrations in reaction to the murder of George Floyd, protesters wrote texts on the panels that shopkeepers had used to board up their windows as a precautionary measure against looting. The authorities then rendered the slogans illegible by covering them with large patches of black, brown, and gray paint. As is often the case, I used these images to explore what it means to be a witness to an ongoing history of violence. At first glance, the photographs resemble abstract paintings, but in fact, they represent the unintended consequence of governmental censorship.

Amid the uprising, I felt glimmers of hope, but these days, with daily decrees dropping from the White House denouncing DEI, I find myself back where I started, asking why Black life doesn’t matter."

-Carrie Mae Weems

André Ramos-Woodard

"I had an intense urge to make what would become WEAPON in the middle of the night in June 2019. I went to my studio at around midnight to execute it, but to my surprise, the outside of the building was littered with cops. Now, even though I know I had done nothing wrong, I couldn’t help but feel like the cops were going to bust up in my studio and arrest me for making a piece that calls them out on their racial wrongdoings. It took me over an hour to create the piece because I kept stopping to look outside and make sure nothing crazy was happening.

For a moment in 2020 it seemed like there was some hope for progress, but now it seems like the need to stand up to cops and the prison industrial complex has dissipated. That’s why work like this will always be important—we as working-class people should be standing together against [police], against ICE, and against the 1%."

-André Ramos-Woodard

Mikael Owunna

"When I set out to make Infinite Essence in 2017, I wanted to articulate the beauty, majesty, and boundless possibility of Black life in the face of relentless violence. During this shoot, I vividly remember the hush that fell over our small crew the moment the model emerged from the blackness, shimmering with the painted constellations. We had spent hours meticulously painting the body in the dark, referencing cosmic lineages from Dogon cosmology like Amma’s womb, merging past, present, and future. With each brushstroke, I felt a sense of reverence, as if we were channeling an ancestral force. With the click of my ultraviolet camera flash, we saw the Black body transformed into a vessel of cosmic life.

Now, after everything that has happened since George Floyd’s murder and the collective mobilization that followed, this image has gained a new resonance for me. The spiritual dimension—evoked by Amma’s Womb—reminds us that within Blackness lies a sacred space where we can imagine futures rooted in love and dignity."

-Mikael Owunna

Alanna Styer

"I began Where It Happened in 2014 to process the pain of Mike Brown’s death and help others understand the history of violent policing in America by documenting where 58 people of color [10 shown here] were killed by law-­enforcement officers. I knew the story of Jimmie Lee Jackson and decided to research murders of Black men by police officers. The scope of my project evolved to be inclusive of all people of color killed by police. While doing research for this project, I found a disparity between the many news articles and police reports—a testament to the lack of standards around disseminating information after fatal police encounters.

Looking back, I often think about why I expanded the project. I was terrified of betraying the victims by conflating their stories. I was just beginning to understand the intersectionality of oppression. Racial profiling, policing, and incarceration target Black people; but systems of white supremacy negatively impact us all."

-Alanna Styer

This project was created in partnership with the Center for Policing Equity.