"Thanks for the compliment. That's the second one I've gotten today. This is my serious-artist drag," she said with a short laugh. "Now let's just hope it impresses Miss Shabazz."
A.J. put his long, strong hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake, quickly followed by another embrace. "Look, sweetie, I keep telling you you're the real deal. Your talent will speak for itself. Get your coat and your other goods and chattels and let's get going. You're going to knock her socks off," he promised her.
Angelique gave him a shaky smile of gratitude. "I just hope you're right."
In a short while, they were shown into Aneesah's sunny office at the museum. She met them at the door wearing a chic navy pantsuit with a beautiful Kente cloth throw over one shoulder. Her smooth brown face glowed and her shining black hair shone with good health; not a hair of her stylish, short coiffure was out of place. "Good morning! I'm so glad to meet you both," she said with a warm sincerity that immediately put Angelique at ease. She showed them to comfortable chairs and made pleasant small talk while offering coffee or tea. Soon it seemed AJ.'s prediction proved correct: she was completely impressed with everything she saw in Angelique's portfolio. After A.J. and Angelique set the mounted matted pictures on the easels placed in the office for that purpose, Aneesah went into her own little world.
She was talking softly to herself and blotting moisture from her eyes, and then looked up with a huge smile. "I'm sorry, I don't usually go off like that, but I've never seen anything quite like this," she admitted. "I've seen some of your work in Hour magazine, and in Elle, but these are just incredible. Tell me again how you got started."
Angelique took a deep breath and looked at A.J., who raised one brow and gave her a nod of encouragement. "Well," she began, "my brother Clay was a photojoumalist. That was his passion; it had been for as long as I can remember. He used to have a camera with him all the time. He took pictures of everything and he's the one who taught me how to use a camera. I used up roll after roll of film taking all kinds of terrible pictures." She laughed at the memory. "Clay was really patient with me, though. He traveled a lot, but whenever he was home he'd show me something new, how to set up a shot, how to use different cameras and he even showed me how to develop. I never really did anything with it until years later, though."
She paused for a moment and glanced at A.J. again. "My family's company, the Deveraux Group, has about twenty different magazines and about fifteen newspapers, as I'm sure you're aware. After I tried college, my brothers tried to find something for me to do in the company. I kind of went from place to place, from department, to department, wreaking havoc everywhere.
"I was the prototype of the spoiled little debutante. In fact, I was the gold standard of the Black American Princess, too cute to work and too rotten to stay in school. Luckily, my sister-in-law Vera had the compassion and foresight to put me with A.J." She looked at him again, this time giving him a huge smile that lit up the room.
"A.J. let me work as his assistant, and that's where my education in photography was continued. He taught me everything he knows about photography. Trust me when I tell you he's forgotten more than I'll ever know. He also taught me how to be a professional, how to respect my craft and the people with whom I associate. He taught me how to be an adult, basically. When he decided to leave fashion photography and make documentaries, I went with him and I took pictures of everything I saw. I met so many wonderful people and learned so much, I can never repay him. I owe everything to this man," she said passionately.
By now A.J. was looking a bit uncomfortable with this praise, and Aneesah was looking at him with distinct interest. He tried to deflect the plaudits by pointing out that Angelique's vision was totally her own. "Regardless of what she says, you can see her talent in the prints. She has a gift for capturing the essence of the moment and making a story come alive in a photograph, which is, of course, what art is all about."
Aneesah agreed wholeheartedly. "I completely concur. These African women are all so beautiful, but there's so much more than beauty in their faces. Were these all taken in one place?"
"Yes, they were, they were all from the same village. All those women have either full-blown AIDS or they're HIV-positive," Angelique said quietly. "All those women have children, all of whom also have AIDS and HIV. And their husbands, who were infected by women working as prostitutes to support their families, infected each of them. This is a hard fact of life in many parts of Africa, unfortunately. I have pictures of the children, also, but I didn't know if you'd be interested in them."
Aneesah's face wore an unreadable expression and she was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but I have an MFA in art history and my doctorate work is in cultural anthropology. What your pictures are depicting was a large part of my dissertation. I'd very much like to see those pictures. More importantly, I think that the public in general would like to see your pictures. I think they need to see your pictures. Like these pictures of women working; I'm in complete awe of them."
Angelique almost ducked her head at the praise, but caught herself in time. She was proud of the series of images of women at work. Like all her work, they were in black and white, developed on matte paper to better display the texture of the subject. She had shot women working as exotic dancers, showing them as they got dressed to perform, and as they dressed to leave work. Their stories were written across their faces like tattoos. She had taken shots of women working in fish canneries, in sweatshops, in diners, in institutional laundries, as well as female firefighters, basketball players and mechanics. There were women working in the small beauty salons that sprang up like weeds in every city, women cleaning floors and laying concrete. There was an amazing cross section of America depicted in her work.
"I want to call it Working Girls, but everything is so politically correct these days, I'm kind of hesitant," she admitted.
"You can call it anything you want. You know, your work reminds me of a combination of Gordon Parks, Moneta Sleet and Diane Arbus," Aneesah said as she continued to peruse the pictures. "These are the ones that made me cry," she added as she pushed a series of photographs across the desk. They were all of disabled adults, some with Down syndrome, others with different physical challenges. There was nothing sentimental or glamorized about the shots; they were just realistic depictions that gave the viewer another frame of reference for the subject. After another lingering look, Aneesah turned her full attention to A.J.
"You know, I'm quite familiar with your work as well. I think anyone who's ever picked up a fashion magazine is familiar with Alan Jay-you're one of the best-known fashion photographers in the world. But I also saw your film when it screened at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I was moved by it, completely in awe. And you're from Detroit?"
A.J. smiled and assured her that he was indeed from Detroit. "Born and raised in Hamtramck, graduated from Cass Tech."
Aneesah smiled in return. "So did I. Graduate from Cass Tech, I mean."
They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Aneesah collected herself and went back to the matter at hand.
"Angelique, what I'd like to do is have your work featured in a special exhibit. It's obviously too late for Black History Month since it's already February, but I'm thinking about April," she said, consulting a huge desk calendar. "Will that give you time enough to have prints ready for sale?" When Angelique looked surprised Aneesah gave her a smile of encouragement. "This is going to be an extremely successful exhibit," she said warmly. "This is going to be the start of something huge for you. I'm very honored that we're going to be the first place to showcase your remarkable talent."
She looked at the pictures on her desk and on the two easels and sighed with satisfaction. "You know, you should be putting these into book form. What you need is an agent," she said firmly.
A.J. grinned widely and leaned toward Aneesah. "Thank you so much for saying that. I've told her the same thing several times. I'm glad she heard it from an expert."