Kokoroko: “It’s not a sequel, it’s a different story”

With a new album on the near horizon, the eight-piece band shares insight into their journey and new sounds

Photography by Vicky Grout

Likely a familiar name to UK dwellers and even those living further afield, Kokoroko is an eight-piece London-based band that’s gone from strength to strength in recent years. Fitting the bill of the old saying “like music for my ears”, the band is indeed something that anyone will be happy to hear as it fuses Jazz and Afrobeat into a harmonious merging of rhythms, improv and honey-dripping melodies. Fronting the band is Sheila Maurice Grey – vocalist and trumpeter – who plays alongside her musical family: Yohan Kebede (synthesisers and keyboards), Cassie Kinoshi (alto sax and vocals), Onome Edgeworth (percussion), Tobi Adenaike-Johnson (guitar), Ayo Salawu (drums), Richie Seivwright (trombone and voals) and Duane Atherley (bass, synthesisers and keyboards). And honestly, it’s important to think of them that way – a group of kins who each share different interests and insights. Because when they come together, no matter their differences or likeness, the music is what binds them. Below, in anticipation of the launch of their new album Could We Me More, set to release in August, I chat to the band about their journey and what we can expect from their new sound.

I’d love to hear about how you all met.

We all met at different times and in different places. Clearly we all met for a reason, though! That reason is something we’re still exploring.

To those who haven’t heard your music before, how would you describe it?


What are you all like as individuals, do you all share the same music interests and taste? 

We all have different music interests and taste, I think that’s the special thing about the band – it’s taking the things that make us individuals and marrying them together as a celebration of who we all are and where we come from.

As an eight-piece, what’s it like being part of such a big group? What’s the dynamic like?

It’s amazing. When you find one person jarring, there’s another seven people to talk to, ha. Working and playing in a big group is amazing, but it also has its challenges. This includes learning how to allow space for others as well as figuring out where you fit into the equation of a song. It sharpens you as a musician, and forces you to simplify and revisit the essence of the craft, which is songwriting.

You’re currently on tour, which sounds incredible! Where did you play, are you teasing out your new album?

We just finished an incredible run in the Netherlands and Belgium, with highlights being two sold out shows at Paradiso in Amsterdam and Ancienne Belgique in Belgium! We appreciate the love we get shown all over Europe and we’re looking forward to the France leg of tour next week! We might play a new song here and there.

We’ve been teasing bits of the new album and reworking some classics that kind of tell the story of why and how a band like us exists. 

Speaking of, can you share some details about your new album? What can we expect to hear, and how does it compare to your previous releases?

Our album is a reflection of where we are at in our creative process; it’s an honest album in every sense of the word. Expect to hear mistakes that capture the essence of the song better than perfection could. 

The album is a moment of time captured, similar to our first EP. It’s hard to compare them – they’re from a very different time and a very different place. I think we would all encourage people to try to be present when listening to the album or any album, rather than listening comparatively. It’s not a sequel, it’s a different story.

Can you pick out a couple of favourite moments from the new album and talk me through them?

We Give Thanks was special; it’s a song that really captures the energy of the band. It was amazing to watch Sheila step out of her comfort zone, being adventurous with the way she sang while also paying homage to the 70s and 80s Afro rock/psychedelic bands that paved the way. Another moment is the outro to Somethings Going On; it was the last thing we all recorded together in the studio and the energy in it perfectly sums up the weeks we spent together writing and recording the album. I think a favourite track might be Good Times, I’m torn between that one and Home.

Is there a certain feeling or emotion you’re hoping to evoke from the new album?

There is no specific feeling or emotion we are trying to evoke, we just want people to connect with our stories. Different people will connect with different things and that’s something we’ve learned from each other. That’s the exciting thing about creating something – it kind of takes on its own life as soon as you let it go. We all have different favourites!

What’s next for the band?

Hopefully to start working on another album, a film maybe; some people want to delve deeper into fashion. We are quite ambitious as a collective ha, but basically whichever medium allows us to express ourselves in the best and most fulfilling way.

Geoffrey Leung: Utah

On the road with his father, the photographer documents the rocky landscapes and sprawling hillsides of the mountain state

Cloud, uncropped © Geoffrey Leung

The road trip never ceases in becoming a muse for photographers. For Geoffrey Leung, a photographer born in Saint Paul, Minneapolis, he recently satisfied an itch to visit Utah’s National Parks with his father by means of the car. Resultantly, he birthed a documentary series capturing the mountainous landscapes, rocky hillsides and creeping fauna of the American state. “Seeing Utah’s National Parks was the reason for this road trip and the photos that came from it were incidental to the good fortune I had to spend time with my father as an adult,” he shares. “It feels vulnerable for me, but it’s a story about heritage and habit.”

Growing up in what he deems a “great place” with top tier photography in the area, Geoffrey was influenced by his “practical” parents and was particularly good at maths. More in the way of academia, it wasn’t until around 2018 that he started picking up a camera seriously. “Up until then I was another liberal arts grad (Carleton) playing at being a professional,” he adds. Now based in New York, the photographer has rooted himself in the medium of image-making, to such lengths that his portfolio encompasses all sorts from motion to videography, personal series to commissions. All of which is influenced by the “sacrifice” of his practical parents, and their parents before them, as well as the essays from Susan Sontag, words from John Berger and many others who “take risks and are afraid to follow their gut but still do both anyways”. And Prince, of course.

Sharing a view © Geoffrey Leung

So when it came to Geoffrey’s own excursion across the desert roads of Utah – with his father by his side – he proceeded to create something that was immensely personal to them both. Not least a risk of their own as they ventured into the unknown. Although the road trip isn’t a new or surprising subject matter, to Geoffrey (and his father), it’s a narrative that they hold closely. “I think that doesn’t make this story unique, but the more personal the photos are, the more relatable they may be,” he says. Taking a picture is more like an experience for Geoffrey, who marks the process as an “interruption of experience”. Whether it be formulated in the studio or on the road, each picture crafted through the eye of this photographer is one that’s been created with rawness, care and love. “I want to photograph instinctually to avoid thinking about a moment, or worse, changing it,” he adds. “The story can only be true if I did not really influence its capturing.” In this regard, the longer he spends with a subject, the more he’s able to learn and “deeply see” about their character and being. “Experiencing something beyond its physical appeal is necessary for conveying anything beyond aesthetics.”

Pastoral 1 © Geoffrey Leung

Pastoral 2 © Geoffrey Leung

Speaking of some favourite moments from the trip, Geoffrey points us in the direction of two photographs : “one with people spreading across a rocky outlook, one of cows grazing in a green field.” Both are luminous in their depictions of greenery, emphasised by the photographer’s decision to up the contrast and focus on the finer details. But, there’s more to these works that beautiful landscapes. “I’m not saying that people are like cows, but it is a funny trickery of language that one might consider,” he explains. In another entitled Sharing a View, Geoffrey has captured his father standing on the popular Zion hike. “This is the only frame I made of this moment,” he says. “But it expresses his youthful side, which I have never really known since he’s been a parent as long as I’ve been alive.”

Not only does Utah depict the wild and uninhibited lands of the the Mountain West state – where bushes grow free and water is somewhat scarce – it also portrays the relationship between two kins, a father and son. Geoffrey plans to turn the work into a book and will continue to build on this “instinctual experience” found in his photography practice. “One of my lifelong photographic goals is to make the women in my life feel beautiful, so I’m working on that too.”

Family friend’s end table © Geoffrey Leung

Famous for its pies © Geoffrey Leung

Motel objects © Geoffrey Leung

Our van leaving Zion © Geoffrey Leung

Sioux city diner © Geoffrey Leung

Utah campsite © Geoffrey Leung

Badlands © Geoffrey Leung

Vincent Ferrane

The photographer’s new book redefines notions of time, place and intimacy

Vincent Ferrane describes the relationship he has with his wife, Armelle, as being similar to a film script, “that we had just co-written”. An apt interpretation, Vincent has lived with Armelle for the past 15 years; they have children together and she has long been his muse photographically. This harmonious partnership has been published in previous works like Milky Way, a series documenting his wife and child during breastfeeding. And now, Vincent’s lens has landed once again on his favourite subject matter, this time in a book titled Inner, published by Art Paper Editions.

To summarise, the work travels through a lockdown spent in Paris. It’s shot solely in their living room – “and it’s not a very big room space,” he says – as the photographer strives and succeeds in documenting his own representation intimacy. By definition, intimacy refers to the closeness and familiarity with another being. In Vincent’s work, he looks at the link between two bodies: “first that of a close relationship, of a space that we share with someone,” he says. “And then this intimate space, this space to oneself, this interior in which one can immerse oneself.” The resulting pictures show a parallel between photographer and subject, man and wife, as they navigate through shared territory together: the living room.

This particular room is a space for daily ritual, where moments of idleness, calm and being can be indulged through the simple acts of laying on sofa or armchair. “But it is very much a mental space to which we try to have access here,” he continues, “an interiority which is also looked at and shared.” To portray the quietness of days spent over lockdown together, Vincent avoided the cliches (think masks, window gazing and doorsteps) and instead zoomed in on the finer details. Hands gripping the stomach; fingers in pockets; a body cradled in the fetal position and the subtle arch of a back; every element has been carefully formulated and elevated through the a mix of artificial and natural lighting choices. “This gives both a notion of realism and creates a more painterly touch by opening up the shadows, by energising the colour palette of the skins, the drapes of the fabrics… We are moving away from a naturalistic image.” Vincent’s Inner is much more considered than candid. Everything seems purposeful, recognisable and familiar: “An everyday pose”.

Vincent’s wider photography practice takes a similar contemplative stance as it looks at the smaller details of those around him. From breastfeeding with his family and the process of female artists creating in their studio, to the beauty standards of the fashion industry and the routine of trans and non-binary people before leaving their homes; Vincent provides a portal into the lives of others. “I guess I’m delving into the everyday and the intimate, questioning why some things are hidden and how they could be shown. I’m assuming a position at the articulation between a documentary, vernacular image and an author photograph that offers a renewed look at representations that we thought were obvious or trivial.”

In the context of Inner, Vincent twists the viewers’ perception of space and time by dissecting physical bodies and the movements that occupy it. Time is suspended here. The hours are merged and the light has been manipulated – an intentional move that gives an eternal quality to the imagery, despite being made at a crucial and pivotal point in in their lives. “So many human activities have been blocked, links broken, physical and social distancing imposed,” says Vincent. “I hope that one can be sensitive to these images which do not call for sovereign or cathartic values, but rather sweet and delicate things to experience, to contemplate one’s love as something exceptional, fragile and everyday.”

Polly Alderton: The Family Portrait

In a new book, the North Essex-based photographer captures intimate and cathartic moments of family life

Polly Alderton finds inspiration in the people around her. Citing it as an “obvious” touching point, she will often angle her lens onto her children and family – the subject matter to the bulk of her work spanning portraiture and pictures akin to the traditional format of a family photo album. “I am really lucky to be able to witness my children experiencing things for the first time, and to be able to watch them grow up,” she tells me. “I think I feel very disjointed from my own childhood, so in many ways the experience of motherhood, for me, has been like a rebirth; in some ways I am growing up alongside my children.”

Polly was born in Kent and spent her formative years moving around regularly, finally settling in North Essex where she resides with her husband and four children. When asked about her past and what steered her towards the medium of photography, she reflects on the more troublesome moments in secondary school, having been excluded with only three GCSE’s. “I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to do and my options felt very limited,” she admits. At the time, Polly’s new boyfriend was studying a GNVQ in art and she’d head to the art department to hang out with him. “I was there so often that the tutors assumed I was part of the course, I was even doing the coursework.” After clocking the situation after around six months, they let Polly switch courses and, naturally, she excelled. “I was working at the time and my home life was quite unsettled, I was moving around a lot and didn’t have too much stability.” A tutor, though, suggested she apply to university. She got in to Byam Shaw school of art – a “safety net” – and Polly was able to support herself financially and independently. 

“Art felt like it was something that rescued me to start with but ended up closing doors on me,” she notes, citing the industry jargon and educational system as being somewhat of an exclusive minefield. “I ended up pregnant in the final year and left with a sour taste in my mouth about education. When my first child was born, I was always taking pictures. It was a thing I did for me and I loved it. It took me a really long time to be brave enough to show it or label it but I’m really proud of it.”

Polly has now been published in the pages of The Sunday Times, The Observer, Invisible Britain: Portraits of Hope and Resilience, Portrait of Britain Vol.1 and Vol.3, i-D, British Journal of Photography and Sudetenduetsche Zeitung. Besides the intimate storytelling found amongst her personal projects, Polly also spends her time as a still life photographer and works with the BBC, a highlight has been photographing David Attenborough in Climate Change: The Facts, as well as Mary Beard and working with Martin Parr for a series of BBC One idents. Her most recent accomplishments, though, is a publication with Setanta Books – the ninth of a bi-monthly series that highlights work of emerging artists. 

Entitled with the photographer’s name, the publication journeys through candid scenes, gripping portraiture and sun-drenched environments as she reworks the notion of a memory. From the first days of school or Christmas eve outside the church, Polly questions the role of memories and how much we can really trust them – particularly from a mother’s viewpoint. “Personally, it feels like a marker between different sages of motherhood,” she explains of the book’s concept. “It’s been quite timely. As a family, we have evolved to a different space, we’re now dealing with three big teens and only one left behind (who’s nine years old), so the dynamics have changed.” The book arose as they realised this major familial shift, conceding to the power of catharsis by documenting these moments. “Whilst I’m daunted about how this body of work will evolve, I’m excited too,” she says.

The topic of representation as a documentary and portrait photographer is an intriguing one. How should you present your subjects, should they be wrapped up in a painted narrative or eschewed with honesty? What’s captivating about Polly’s imagery is the manner in which she lenses her children, which are, as she says, quite the opposite to their real-life personas. With one child who’s confident in front of the camera and one who’s less so, she was surprised to hear someone commenting on the matter, saying: “Oh your child is so serious in your pictures, I’m surprised by how animated they are in real life”. She adds: “I realised that my portrayal of my children might not always be representative of who they are, and that’s interesting because their images do exist in spaces that are separate from them yet potentially inform an idea of who they are, even if they never visit these spaces.”

“I try to be honest about our home and faithful to this idea of preserving a truth but, equally, I’m drawn to quite dark things and often quite funny things (a combination of both ideally). So I encourage them to play about with masks and things; my youngest child loves doing a ‘dead face’ where he rolls his eyes back to show the whites and I adore it!”

Other snaps see her husband and youngest son in a broken mirror , cracked from an “OTT” play fight between their sons and consequently sealed back up with sellotape. This image sparks many observations about Polly’s role and life as a mother, to which she refers to as being once “quite needy” towards her son – who’s an identical image of his father, by the way. Back then, she envisioned them watching film marathons together and becoming just like friends. Having learned to give her child space and let him blossom on his own, it’s in these very pictures – especially the one in the mirror – that she learned of her own personal history. “When I look at this picture I understand the bigger picture and, in a way, it’s a portrait that includes me. It feels like it has some biblical element to it, I can see myself sitting in the grass below him just pining or worshipping him. I should say, if my son reads this, we watched a load of films and did loads of stuff together too, when I wasn’t being annoying!”

My Hijab Has a Voice

Jodie Bateman’s empowering series raises awareness of the difficulties Muslims face in the West

Jodie Bateman, a photographer who grew up in Earlsfield, London, converted to Islam in December 2017. During this period of her life, Jodie began questioning the stereotypes often pinned with being Muslim and living in Western society. Deciding to record these experiences with her lens, Jodie commenced work on My Hijab Has a Voice: Revisited – an authentic and autobiographical series that both challenges and empowers her subjects. Within the project, she takes predominantly self-portraiture with the odd portrait tossed in for good measure, placing herself and younger sister in the frame as they replicate historical paintings, those that often objectify women. The work is captivating, poised and provoking for the ways in which it demands attention from the viewer; she hopes to share a new perspective, to realign the stigma and to raise awareness of the difficulties Muslims face in the West. Below, I chat to Jodie about her journey into photography, her experiences with converting to Islam and what she strives to achieve through her imagery.

First, it would be great to hear about your journey into photography, what inspired you to pick up a camera?

I first fell in love with photography when I discovered my mum’s boxes of photographs as a little girl. She used to have loads of photographs printed from the little disposal cameras; she always had so many of them and I was always mesmerised by the photograph as a document or object. I remember holding it, looking into its information and then, when I got my first camera phone as a young girl – I think I was around 13 – I started shooting made up shoots with my sisters. That’s how it started. I knew from then on that I loved photography and taking pictures, so I decided to study it at college and so on.

What stories are you hoping to share in your work?

So far, it’s been a personal story about my journey and experiences, especially around the hijab and converting to Islam. Through my work, I’m trying to put a different narrative out there. I hope to take this further in the future and share other Muslim women’s experiences with the hijab too; I just want people to see it from our actual point of view and direct from our voices.

Can you tell me more about your personal experience with converting to Islam, and how this impacted your photography?

It changed my whole style. I found myself, and I realised the stories I wanted to tell and the issues I felt were important to me had changed. It’s had a huge impact on how I feel and how I am able to use photography. It’s such a powerful tool to be able to tell stories and raise awareness of issues, and being able to have your own unique voice with it.  

What’s it like photographing your family, are they happy to be involved? How do you want to represent them in your imagery?

It’s easy because I am so comfortable around them, so I can really just be myself and be free in directing my project how I want to. I’ve never actually gone out of my comfort zone and not shot my family, but they are happy; they’re used to it and they like to take part and support my work In any way.

I guess it depends but, for my project, my little sister is like my muse. I have also done documentary photography with my family, representing them as they are at home as well as our relationships and bonds with each other.

Can you pick out a couple of favourite shots and talk me through them? 

This image is my favourite image from my recent project My Hijab Has A Voice: Revisited. It’s inspired by the painting La Grande Odalisque; it was known for being unnatural in how the nude woman is painted, and in my image she is posed in a similar manner but fully veiled. It may seem unnatural, as paintings and the objectification of women started as being fully nude only for the purpose of pleasing the male viewer – so it’s about reclaiming our bodies. Being fully veiled mimics these types of paintings whilst also showing the beauty in being veiled; our bodies concealed from eyes seeing us in this objectified way.

In this second image from my project My Hijab Has A Voice: Revisited, myself and my sister are fully covered. She is laying on my lap and we are connecting; it’s not sexual, it’s supportive and there are books which convey the message that, as a woman, I am educated. I always get asked if I converted for a man or if I was brainwashed, as if a women cant make an educated decision to be a certain way. it also mimics paintings, as usually they leave bits of information around like mirrors and brushes to convey this vain message that women are in competition and compete against each other.

The last image is another favourite of mine again from my project My Hijab Has A Voice: Revisited. I am holding her head, her hair is out and we are both covered wearing black. This image concept is based around the idea that all women suffer from being told what to wear; whether we are being forced to cover or being forced to uncover, we are constantly being managed by men. This image is like a symbol of support from women to women, no matter what race or religion or how we dress. We should stick by each other and not against each other.

What are the key takeaways for your audience?

I hope it’s a positive reaction and that they are interested in listening. My message is that, as a woman, I can be educated enough to make my own decisions. I don’t need to be influenced by a man, that Islam is not what the media portrays and if people take time to listen to Muslim women especially, they can learn a lot and see a more meaningful side to our stories.



American photographer Judith Black unearths intimate pictures from a six-week road trip with her family

Johanna and Self, March 27, 1995, (Chico, CA) © Judith Black

Most might quake at the thought of being sat in a car for no less than 5,000 miles with their family – kids included. What with the hum of “Are we there yet?” echoing out of the backseat every five minutes or so; the vibrational thud as a punch smacks the arm; the endless rounds of Eye Spy and toilet breaks; travelling with your family isn’t always an easy one. But it was a pursuit that American artist Judith Black was keen to embark on with her four children around 40 years ago, which is now the focus point of her new photography book Vacation, published by Stanley/Barker.

After being awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1986, Judith set out with the intention of a cross-country road trip to document the sweeping landscapes of the US, as well as the intimate and candid moments she experienced with her children – stopping off at New York, Chicago, San Francisco and various other memorable spots on the way. It took about six weeks in total from July 12 1986 to August 23; “We took some camping and a lot of photo gear,” she tells me, pacing the day’s drive to end up at a friend’s or family’s place. “We were on a tight budget. We kept track of the milage, gas, expenses and mostly to give the kids something to do.” Packed with snacks, entertainment, a 4×5 press camera, tripod, boxes of Polaroid Type 55 film, a flash and a bucket of sodium sulphite to process the negative, Judith and her family were prepped as much as can be. “I don’t remember how it all fit!”

On one stop, Judith and the family traversed to Lake Michigan to the summer cottage where her aunt lived. A hot day, Judith’s daughter “insisted on the punk look”; she snapped an image of them by the water’s edge, dunes in the background and her subjects caught in a moment that’s halfway between posing and candid. Her daughter placed in the middle in jet-black attire – almost as stark and monochrome as the series itself. Another depicts her sister’s newborn Matt at just a couple of weeks old. “They were on a swing at the park. The little frown on his brow…” It’s moments like this that make looking back on the series so momentous in its ability to mark an epoch of familial life; it’s like flicking through an old family album, a record of place and time where endless anecdotes can be uncovered. Below, I chat to Judith to hear more about the series, what family life means to her and the importance of documenting those closest to you. 

Erik, Laura, Johanna, July 20, 1986, (Lake Michigan) © Judith Black

What inspired you to go on a road trip with your family, and why turn it into a photographic series?

American photographers are aware that the cross-country trip of 4,000 to 5,000 miles one way is something of a quest. The road trip is made for discovering the country, having adventures, exploring the land (it’s huge, beautiful and ugly). The tradition goes back to the early exploration of the west, and the use of the new medium of photography to chart and record the land for the government, the amateur and the artist. Fast forward to the 1980s when I applied for a Guggenheim Fellowship, many recipients in photography have used the road trip to get out of their comfort zone… it was part of the idea of the fellowship: to travel. At the time, railroads joined the east and west coasts, American families of enough means travelled to see the national parks, the great cities, the wonders of the landscape. My thought was to follow in the footsteps of Edward Weston, Robert Frank and many others, but with my family in tow.

I set out on the journey partly because that was the focus of the Guggenheim grant, and partly just to see if we could make such a trip. I didn’t need to produce any results from the trip, so we were free to see what happened as we drove from place to place. My grant proposal was to make this journey from the east coast where we lived, to the west coast with my four children, and to photograph along the way. The kids were 18, 16, 15 and 12. Rob, my partner and step-father to the children, had traveled extensively, mostly by hitch-hiking; the hippie way. I didn’t know how the trip would work out, but it was a response to the more male adventure trip from Weston to Frank to Soth. 

Hank and Christian, May, 2, 1993, (Palo Alto, CA) © Judith Black

What memories or anecdotes can you share from the trip?

The first photo in the book is one that I took with my first Brownie camera at age seven in 1951 – capturing Aunt Edie with her dog, Lance, at the family cottage in Michigan. In 1986, I was able to take another photo of her with her dog Rover in almost the same spot. The titles and notations in the book hint at the narrative by suggesting familial relationships. There are many other anecdotes, probably at least one for every stop we made! And for each of the trips included in the book. 

A trip with four kids who were teens? We didn’t kill anyone! Five people in the car for a long trip can cause some irritation, to say the least. We finally resolved who could sit next to whom on the last couple of days. My brother was driving by that time. One child could sit in the front, I could sit in the middle of the back seat and each child could touch me. Otherwise, we had a lot of ‘He touched me’, ‘She looked at me’; we were ready to be home!

Maggie and Matt, March 1, 1986 (Seattle, WA) © Judith Black

The work is immensely intimate, which appears to be an intentional move photographically. Why work in this manner, and what stories are you hoping to share about your family?

I have been a mother since I was 23. With four children by the age 29, there was no time to leave home to explore even the streets close to home. I was about 34 when I returned to school to earn a masters degree so that I might be able to support my family. Photography seemed like a better choice pragmatically, rather than painting! So, I quickly realised that the intimate self-portraits and portraits of my family were what I knew best and could reveal with some kind of honesty. The photos in Vacation are about those times when I was on ‘vacation’ from being home. Sometimes it was the cross-country trip, sometimes it was when the kids were on vacation with their father, sometimes it was during visits to see my folks on the west coast. These are times most of us experience and they can be really fun or they can be upsetting. 

Dianna, Miki, Angie, August 15, 1986, (Concord, CA ) © Judith Black

Any particular meaning you’re trying to convey in the work?

What is that Tolstoy quote about families? ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’ Not all family stories are happy. Not all are really awful. But all have some kind of complication. The memories that our family album photos hold are different for each member. There is a complicated story for almost all the photos in this book, especially since we are looking back over almost 40 years.

What’s next for you?

Right now, I’m enjoying the success the two books I’ve published – knowing that people around the world will connect somehow with our ‘family album’ amazes me in some way. The people are particular to our family, but the stories hidden or written in the titles are more universal. It would be wonderful to have an exhibit of the vintage prints. I loved working in the darkroom and it would be nice to do that once again before too long. That would be a big project!


Judith Black’s Vacation is published by Stanley/Barker

Lynne, Milt and Christopher, August 31, 1986, (New York City, NY), Rob’s family © Judith Black
Til and Robbie, February 15, 1987, (Ithaca, NY) © Judith Black
Angie, September 17, 1989, (Concord, CA) mud monster © Judith Black
Pierre and Pig, July 6, 1991, (Ithaca, NY), 40th birthday bash © Judith Black
Jim and Rob, August 1986, (Chicago, IL) © Judith Black