New York Times
By Jonathan Blaustein
By Jonathan Blaustein
December 29, 2014
The photographer Kristin Bedford trekked through the sweltering summer streets of Philadelphia in 2013, looking for remnants of forgotten religions. In college, as a religious studies major, she’d been influenced by Arthur Fauset’s 1944 book “Black Gods of the Metropolis: Negro Cults of the Urban North,” in which he’d chronicled five spinoff religions in African-American communities.
She tried finding the churches, going door to door with nothing but the decades-old addresses listed in the book. Combing the neighborhoods, she queried neighbors, whose advice enabled her to piece things together. Eventually, she encountered the vestiges of Father Divine’s International Peace Mission Movement.
Father Divine, who died in 1965, was an African-American religious leader who rose to prominence — and controversy — in Depression-era Harlem. His philosophy was radical, preaching racial integration when such ideas could likely get a person killed. He insisted upon celibacy among his disciples, but also built his movement on a foundation of generosity: feeding the poor at intricate banquets during the tough times of the 1930s, when solid meals were hard to come by. But he also claimed to be God himself, which led some to just dismiss the movement as a cult.
Luckily for Ms. Bedford, she was invited to a contemporary version of what was called a Holy Communion banquet, and was entranced by what she saw.
“When I went to my first banquet in July, I was overwhelmed by the musical traditions and their liturgy,” she said. “The outfits that they had sewn by hand. It was so rich.”
She connected with the believers, almost all of whom are now elderly, and they told her of the extensive photo archive that existed at Woodmont, the mansion outside the city that is home to Mother Divine, Father Divine’s widow, and 18 of his most ardent followers.
Ms. Bedford was invited to stay at Woodmont, a rare privilege, in order to organize that archive, which was not properly cataloged. She agreed and spent five weeks setting about the task. She described herself as an eyewitness to history, and was excited to be actually holding photos made by James Van Der Zee, the legendary chronicler of Harlem and African-American luminaries.
After a week, she asked if she could make pictures, and was given the green light, though expressly forbidden from photographing Mother Divine. Ms. Bedford observed the followers as they practiced their faith, and she looked closely at how Father Divine was treated as an existing being, still in their physical presence. His followers keep photographs of him in each room, and set a place for him at the dinner table, where he is always served first. Furthermore, people speak to him as if he is right there with them.
She also learned that the banquet meal carries with it a sacred significance, and that its preparation is itself a spiritual act.
“They spend their days preparing for the Holy Communion banquet,” she said. “They grow their own food. They bake their own bread. They polish the silver. Each day is filled with actions to prepare for the sacred meal. So, photographing what would just seem like chores, to the outside world, was actually photographing acts of faith.”
That process, with its constant repetition as an expression of belief, resonated strongly with Ms. Bedford, as it represented a striking parallel to why she dedicated herself to photography. Ever since she received her first camera, at the age of 5, her fervor for the medium has dictated the course of her life.
“For me, photography is about showing up again and again to see what happens,” she said. “It’s about following those invisible lines of intuition that take you into places you can’t rationally explain. I’m open to walking into things I don’t understand, and maybe I’ll never understand.
“Through photography, I might get a glimpse of this unknown.”
That was not the only intersection between Ms. Bedford’s process and the philosophy of Father Divine. As it happens, one of his metaphors for a well-lived life was embedded in the language of photography. He often referred to an idealized state as “the Perfect Picture,” which subsequently became the name of her photographic project.
“He preached that followers should ‘focus their lens’ on his vision of peaceful living and racial equality,” she said.
“If a follower is able to fully embody his truth, they would be in turn creating ‘the Perfect Picture,'” she said. “In the photographs, I capture that in the small details of everyday life. They’re not making grand gestures to realize Father Divine’s vision. They’re doing it in everyday ways.”
But in time Ms. Bedford found herself embroiled in a dispute with the movement when she referred to Father Divine by his given name during an interview, which is considered blasphemous. It saddens her that the controversy developed; she had been determined to show others that this religion and other such “fringe” movements are as valid as more mainstream ones with centuries of traditions. No one group has a monopoly on enlightenment, she feels, and her photographs enable Father Divine’s disciples to be depicted with integrity, warmth and grace.
She remains deeply interested in deconstructing stereotypes and hopes that will be the enduring message of her time at Woodmont.
“I’m saying faith is faith,” she said. “They have stories that may be different than the ones you grew up with, or the stories mainstream religion has established are the right stories. But we are all telling stories, and trying to figure this out.”
Jonathan Blaustein is an artist and writer based in New Mexico. He contributes regularly to the blog A Photo Editor, and you can follow him @jblauphoto and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/12/29/philadelphia-city-of-father-divine/?_r=0#
The photographer Kristin Bedford trekked through the sweltering summer streets of Philadelphia in 2013, looking for remnants of forgotten religions. In college, as a religious studies major, she’d been influenced by Arthur Fauset’s 1944 book “Black Gods of the Metropolis: Negro Cults of the Urban North,” in which he’d chronicled five spinoff religions in African-American communities.
She tried finding the churches, going door to door with nothing but the decades-old addresses listed in the book. Combing the neighborhoods, she queried neighbors, whose advice enabled her to piece things together. Eventually, she encountered the vestiges of Father Divine’s International Peace Mission Movement.
Father Divine, who died in 1965, was an African-American religious leader who rose to prominence — and controversy — in Depression-era Harlem. His philosophy was radical, preaching racial integration when such ideas could likely get a person killed. He insisted upon celibacy among his disciples, but also built his movement on a foundation of generosity: feeding the poor at intricate banquets during the tough times of the 1930s, when solid meals were hard to come by. But he also claimed to be God himself, which led some to just dismiss the movement as a cult.
Luckily for Ms. Bedford, she was invited to a contemporary version of what was called a Holy Communion banquet, and was entranced by what she saw.
“When I went to my first banquet in July, I was overwhelmed by the musical traditions and their liturgy,” she said. “The outfits that they had sewn by hand. It was so rich.”
She connected with the believers, almost all of whom are now elderly, and they told her of the extensive photo archive that existed at Woodmont, the mansion outside the city that is home to Mother Divine, Father Divine’s widow, and 18 of his most ardent followers.
Ms. Bedford was invited to stay at Woodmont, a rare privilege, in order to organize that archive, which was not properly cataloged. She agreed and spent five weeks setting about the task. She described herself as an eyewitness to history, and was excited to be actually holding photos made by James Van Der Zee, the legendary chronicler of Harlem and African-American luminaries.
After a week, she asked if she could make pictures, and was given the green light, though expressly forbidden from photographing Mother Divine. Ms. Bedford observed the followers as they practiced their faith, and she looked closely at how Father Divine was treated as an existing being, still in their physical presence. His followers keep photographs of him in each room, and set a place for him at the dinner table, where he is always served first. Furthermore, people speak to him as if he is right there with them.
She also learned that the banquet meal carries with it a sacred significance, and that its preparation is itself a spiritual act.
“They spend their days preparing for the Holy Communion banquet,” she said. “They grow their own food. They bake their own bread. They polish the silver. Each day is filled with actions to prepare for the sacred meal. So, photographing what would just seem like chores, to the outside world, was actually photographing acts of faith.”
That process, with its constant repetition as an expression of belief, resonated strongly with Ms. Bedford, as it represented a striking parallel to why she dedicated herself to photography. Ever since she received her first camera, at the age of 5, her fervor for the medium has dictated the course of her life.
“For me, photography is about showing up again and again to see what happens,” she said. “It’s about following those invisible lines of intuition that take you into places you can’t rationally explain. I’m open to walking into things I don’t understand, and maybe I’ll never understand.
“Through photography, I might get a glimpse of this unknown.”
That was not the only intersection between Ms. Bedford’s process and the philosophy of Father Divine. As it happens, one of his metaphors for a well-lived life was embedded in the language of photography. He often referred to an idealized state as “the Perfect Picture,” which subsequently became the name of her photographic project.
“He preached that followers should ‘focus their lens’ on his vision of peaceful living and racial equality,” she said.
“If a follower is able to fully embody his truth, they would be in turn creating ‘the Perfect Picture,'” she said. “In the photographs, I capture that in the small details of everyday life. They’re not making grand gestures to realize Father Divine’s vision. They’re doing it in everyday ways.”
But in time Ms. Bedford found herself embroiled in a dispute with the movement when she referred to Father Divine by his given name during an interview, which is considered blasphemous. It saddens her that the controversy developed; she had been determined to show others that this religion and other such “fringe” movements are as valid as more mainstream ones with centuries of traditions. No one group has a monopoly on enlightenment, she feels, and her photographs enable Father Divine’s disciples to be depicted with integrity, warmth and grace.
She remains deeply interested in deconstructing stereotypes and hopes that will be the enduring message of her time at Woodmont.
“I’m saying faith is faith,” she said. “They have stories that may be different than the ones you grew up with, or the stories mainstream religion has established are the right stories. But we are all telling stories, and trying to figure this out.”
Jonathan Blaustein is an artist and writer based in New Mexico. He contributes regularly to the blog A Photo Editor, and you can follow him @jblauphoto and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/12/29/philadelphia-city-of-father-divine/?_r=0#
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