“Let Me Get to Work"

If a spirited woman with a camera approaches you on the streets of New York City and asks if she can take your picture because you look fabulous, you might be encountering legendary photographer Coreen Simpson. And you should probably say yes.

“I’m not just somebody,” Simpson tells her stylish would-be subjects. After decades documenting street fashion, she estimates she has thousands of photographs filed away. “I’m going to make you look good. In fact, I might make you famous, honey.”

One glance through Simpson’s body of work proves she’s got a point. Throughout her 50-year career as a photographer, she has captured images that tell stories of Black culture—from the B-Boys series that documented upstart hip-hop dancers; to hundreds of portraits of Black artists, literary figures, and actors; to her never-ending quest to snap pictures of the well-dressed New Yorkers who catch her eye. The multi-hyphenate is also a jewelry designer; she created the Black Cameo brooch worn by Oprah Winfrey and Rosa Parks, among other celebrities.

Simpson is one of dozens of artists featured in the new Getty Museum exhibition Photography and the Black Arts Movement, 1955–1985, which explores how the medium celebrated Black culture and advanced the struggle for civil rights during the turbulent mid-20th century. The Museum also recently acquired two of her prints for its collection: the portrait Betye Saar with Veil and the collage image Ntozake Shange, from Simpson’s About Face series.

Over Zoom from her home in Brooklyn, Simpson reflected on her unconventional path into photography, how exactly she manages to capture the essence of a person in a portrait, and why she loves to include clocks in her work.

Getty’s new exhibition Photography and the Black Arts Movement, 1955–1985 encompasses three decades of work by Black photographers. How did it feel to be working as a photographer during that time? Did you feel like you were part of a movement?

Coreen Simpson: I didn’t know I was working in a movement. I just wanted to start my career because I didn’t have a career. I was working as an executive assistant for several years supporting my children and myself. And I realized that wasn’t enough. I was also writing articles as a freelance journalist, and I learned I’d make more money if I wrote the article and took the photograph. I called up the photographer Walter Johnson, who used to take modeling photos of me, and said: “I need a camera. I don’t like the way people are illustrating my subjects. I don’t see them the way that they’re being photographed. That’s not exciting. I want to take my own. Can I borrow a camera? Can you show me how to use a camera?” So he came over one day and brought me a 35-millimeter Canon. He showed me in an hour how to use it, how to put the film in.

During the time of the Black Arts Movement, I just felt like I needed to document Black culture—there was so much going on in the late ’70s and ’80s. And the camera gave me a passport to different events. I could get in with all my credentials. I thought what I was doing was important, but I didn’t think it would be that important. I was in my 30s when I really went into photography, so I was a late bloomer and just thought it was fun. It was exciting. As James Baldwin said, “Go the way your blood beats.”

How would you describe your approach to documenting Black culture?

CS: I worked for several publications at the same time. Editors would call me and give me assignments. My main objective was taking the one photograph that would hook the reader, because one photograph should say it all. When you’re reading a magazine, what hits you first is the image. Let’s be real. It’s the image. And then I hardly ever gave editors my contact sheets. I would make three photographs in my darkroom and give those to the editor to choose from. So I was directing how I wanted to be shown and seen as a photographer.

Usually I know when I’m photographing, “Oh, this is fabulous.” I just feel it. You position yourself for that moment. You can feel it coming together, and that’s the photograph. Back in the day, we didn’t have digital. We couldn’t see the photographs right then. When you go home and you go into the darkroom, you’re thinking, “Oh my God, did I get the photograph that I saw in my head?” Preparation before the assignments is key, and then when you get there, it’s about the timing.

Can you talk through Betye Saar with Veil and how that photograph came about?

CS: In the 1970s, I was assistant curator of photography at the Studio Museum in Harlem. I had a little tiny office, and there were a lot of artists going in and out of the building all the time. I didn’t really want to be a curator. That wasn’t my goal. But since I was there, I thought, well, if I’m spending all this time here, what can I photograph? So I set up a studio in my little office, and I made up a story. I’d tell the artists who came to the museum: “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Coreen Simpson, assistant curator at the museum, and the museum would like me to take a portrait of you.” I gave myself the assignment to photograph the artists as they came in, and they believed me.

I knew nothing about Betye Saar, to tell you the truth. But I looked at her work, and it was surreal to me. I had little hats and objects to make photographs interesting in my office. I had a veil, I had lace, and she agreed to sit. It was very quick. I put that veil over her head. It was so fabulous, honey. As soon as I saw it, I said, “Oh yes, this is her.” I thought, “She’s like a mystic on Black culture, Black people.” But she didn’t appear in person like her work, and I wanted to capture what she’s about.

How about Ntozake Shange, part of your About Face series?

CS: She was a very famous playwright who wrote for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf. She used to date Frank Stewart, who was my photography teacher. So that’s how I met her, just going to different art parties in the late ’70s and ’80s. She was a lot of fun. Fern Gillespie, who was an editor at Black cultural magazines, asked me to photograph Ntozake. So I got this fabulous backdrop of an ocean, which cost a lot of money. I don’t know why I even picked it, but I liked it. I took that picture in 1997.

In 2021, Ms. magazine asked me to make a photograph to illustrate an article, so I took Ntozake’s image and made it part of my About Face series, where I reworked portraits I had already done. She hadn’t given me approval to use her face to illustrate the article, so I chopped her head off. In the photo she’s standing there with her hands on her hips like the boss woman that she was, so I added a big mouth, because the article was about Black women speaking their mind, or something like that. I added the clock, because I like the idea that time ain’t waiting for nobody. Time is moving, honey. When you’re young, it moves very slowly, and it moves faster as you get older. So now I’m in my 80s, and I’m thinking, oh, I got so much to do, but the energy is not the same.

What are the secrets to taking a great portrait?

CS: Choosing the backdrops, getting the light ready, and trying to get to know something about the person. I always want to know how they want the world to see them. You give them a little direction too, and then when they’re in front of you, you just have to work it right then. Sometimes people are closed down, so you have to know what to say to them to get them to open up. And you’ve got to have fun with them too, because when they’re smiling or laughing, you could take that picture then.

I used to have to do these portraits very quickly. I didn’t want to burn up a lot of film. My money was limited. Any photographer who’s taking a million pictures—it’s a total waste of time. I would give myself maybe two rolls. That’s it. If I don’t get it in two rolls, that’s on me, not the subject.

I’m also thinking that this is going to be the quintessential photograph of this person. I don’t care who else took their pictures, but you don’t have a Coreen Simpson picture. My photograph of you is going to represent how I think about you. So let me get to work.

What’s next for you?

CS: I’m part of an exhibition in Ontario, Canada, which will come to the Philadelphia Museum of Art later this year. It’s called Sunday Best, documenting people on Sunday, which is church day in the Black community.

What do you hope is your legacy as a photographer?

CS: Well, I’m so happy my monograph Coreen Simpson came out. But I just hope people recognize me as a fabulous photographer of the time that I lived in. And also as a designer whose work lent a lot of positivity to the Black community. I’m biracial, but I was brought up in the Black community as a foster kid. So I’m documenting the community that supported me and my work.