This profile of New Orleans
cultural historian and photographer Michael P. Smith was originally published
in 2004 in Beat
Street , a New Orleans
literary magazine now out of print. By that time, Smith had slipped into semi-retirement by
then as he began to succumb to the effects of Parkinson’s and possibly Alzheimer’s
diseases.
Smith passed in 2008 and left behind a legacy that represents
one of the Crescent City ’s
most magnificent treasures. Smith’s prints, negatives and other archival
material was acquired by the Historic New Orleans Collection in 2007 where it
is being preserved for future generations. His photographs also are in the
permanent collections of the Bibliotheque National in Paris ,
the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Smithsonian Institution and, the New
Orleans Museum of Art, the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, and the Louisiana
State Museum .
By Karl Bremer
Jeff Rosenheim, a former assistant of Smith’s in the early
‘80s who is now associate curator of photography for the Metropolitan Museum of
Art in New York , asserts
unequivocally that “Mike Smith’s life’s work should be preserved in perpetuity
in New Orleans for the study of the
culture of New Orleans in the last
third of the 20th century.”
New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Fest Producer Quint Davis calls Smith “one of the great documenters and great depicters of a unique aspect of American culture. Mike is not just documenting, he’s creating great art.”
But it’s the words of Larry Bannock, Big Chief of the Golden Star Hunters, that would be most likely to bring a smile to Smith’s face.
“Mike Smith wasn’t a cultural pirate,” Bannock says. “He gave back.”
“There’s a popular misconception around town that Mike is,
like, gone,” says New Orleans
photographer Bob Compton. “But that couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s
still light in those blue eyes.”
There’s also a lot more information behind those blue eyes
that Smith is frantically trying to download into his latest book, In theSpirit: The Photography of Michael P. Smith from the Historic New Orleans Collection, before it slips away. (The book was published in 2009. View an accompanying video here. ) Smith also has coauthored a book
with University of Munich
professor Berndt Ostendorf on New Orleans
jazz funerals that is essentially complete but remains unpublished.
While the subject of Michael Smith’s physical and mental
health has been of concern to many in recent months, the health and
preservation of his legacy—and his monumental archives—has become of paramount
importance as well.
“The value of this life that Michael has led is enormous,
and it would be a shame to let it slip through New Orleans ’
hands like so many other things,” declares Rosenheim .
“I had the pleasure of being involved in his exhibition at
the Louisiana State
Museum ,” recalls Rosenheim .
“I had a lot of experience working with archives of both living and deceased
photographers. And I could recognize that Michael was not just a local
photographer, but a local photographer who was connected to some of the best
aspects of New Orleans culture.
Michael not only had a remarkable commitment to his subjects but he seemed to
be blessed with being at the right place at the right time. … He did some very
innovative things, and he just ‘had it.’”
The cross-cultural appeal of the exhibit was remarkable,
says Rosenheim . “Music culture is
an international language and so is photography, and they both come together
perfectly in Michael Smith.”
Besides documenting
“He used to wire himself with sophisticated stereo equipment and record these parades and funerals.” Listening to those recordings as he worked in the darkroom with Smith’s powerful images “was like a kinetic experience.” The sounds of Smith working his way through the drum section of a jazz funeral, then the horns, shifting this way and that as he finessed his position for the maximum vantage point provide an aural context for these images that should be preserved as well, says Rosenheim.
Leslie Smith, Michael's daughter, helped guide her father's lens at the 2004 Jazz Fest. |
Jazz Fest recognized Smith in 2004 with a showing in
the Grandstand of his images printed in large format by David Richmond, and
50-60 of his images reproduced, mounted on boards and placed around the
fairgrounds as close as possible to where they were originally shot. His work
also is being exclusively featured in this year’s Jazz Fest program.
“We’re going to celebrate our 35th anniversary
through the eyes of Mike Smith,” says Davis .
“The whole infield is going to be a Mike Smith kaleidoscope of the festival.”
Since the beginning, Smith has been “Jazz Fest’s unofficial
official photographer,” says Davis .
“When you start to do a heritage festival that has New
Orleans street culture in it, Mike comes along
with it. Because in addition to being an artist and a photographer, he’s an
intrinsic part of the culture himself. When we started doing this festival, he
was part of New Orleans street
culture. Then he became part of the festival culture. He was also unbelievably
steadfast. He came every day, every year and went to every stage. Multiply that
times 35 years.”
But Davis is
quick to note, “Jazz Fest is really just a spoke in the wheel of Mike Smith’s
work. We’re maybe a big spoke … Having created this great body of artistic
work, he also has brought the images and the awareness of the culture to a lot
of people. His photography of those things is a window to the world, and he
helped to both popularize and legitimize those cultures.”
Larry Bannock: 'Mike Smith wasn't
a cultural pirate. He gave back.'
|
“A lot of times when I was doing patches, Mike would go out
and take pictures of landscapes and color to make it come out right. There’re
not a lot of photographers you could ask that of.”
Smith recognized the value of preserving the Mardi Gras
Indian culture and he encouraged Bannock: “Don’t just do the beadwork. Know the
culture, know the history, know why the blacks ran away and how the Native
Americans helped them.” He also urged Bannock to become registered as a “master
craftsman in black Mardi Gras Indian beadwork” with Louisiana Folklife.
“One of the people that made me a Big Chief was Mike
Smith,” says Bannock. “When I first became a Chief, I was going through a
problem, and I was talking to Mike about it.
And he said, ‘When you become a Chief, you become the center
of attention. People say things about you—negative things. That’s all part of
being a Chief.’ And the first thing he said was, ‘Buy your own equipment.’
Everything I needed to make a suit, Mike said that’s what I need. When you got
your own, nobody can come at you.
“Mike isn’t a 9-to-5 friend. He’s a 24-hour friend,” Bannock
continues. “Whenever you called him, he was there. There’s a lot of people
that’s on the street today because of Mike. Carpenters, contractors, when
things were slow, Mike would help them get jobs. He wasn’t just a little white
boy who came along and took all the pictures and made all the money. … When the
testimony is given, they can say Mike gave back—he didn’t take away.”
Becoming a part of the culture he was documenting had its
down sides, too, says Bannock. “Mike and Jules Kahn were taking pictures of
second lines when it wasn’t popular. Mike Smith was run out of places, Mike
Smith was harassed, the same thing we went through. But when Mike Smith went
Uptown, he was protected, and a lot of people knew what he was about.”
David Richmond first knew Michael Smith in 1969, when he
took Smith’s place as an assistant to local Black Star syndicate photographer
Matt Heron. He ran into him periodically in the mid-70s, although they were
never close friends.
“I had a little gallery in New Orleans
in the 70s and that was the first real gallery showing of Mike’s work—the Spirit
World stuff. But Mike didn’t hang out with that gallery group. He never
spent any time being a dilettante photographer.
He was hanging out with people closer to the culture—Jerry Brock, Jason
Berry, Jeff Hannusch.
“I really lost track of Mike for about 15 years,” Richmond
continues. “Two years ago I started this exhibit space and went over to Mike’s
place and said this can’t happen. There was nobody to really champion his work,
and he certainly wasn’t going to do it anymore.”
And, Richmond
observes, “I’ve come to the conclusion, in looking at the proof sheets of his
stuff and working with the images, that Mike didn’t just take pictures, he
received pictures. He just went out there and wrestled away until some
spiritual force said ‘You’re gonna receive this one.’”
The Louisiana State
Museum raised the bar for
recognition of Smith’s work last year when it purchased 75 archival-quality
prints for its collection. “These pictures are going to be the museum’s basis
of the representation of African-American culture in New
Orleans ,” says Richmond .
The archiving of Smith’s work “is an ongoing process,” says
Bob Compton. “The phrase ‘treasure trove’ does not do it justice. There must be
100,000 images in that Race Street
building. It physically fills up five great big rooms in an old hotel-size
house.”
Meanwhile, Smith races against time to finish In the Spirit, which his daughter, Leslie, describes as “an exploration of
freedom rituals in New Orleans ,”
from jazz funerals to the underground gay Mardi Gras.
“He’s driven. He’s afraid of not remembering, so he writes
and doesn’t sleep, but he’s got so much writing to do, and it’s a vicious
cycle.”
Bannock hopes the recognition that’s due Smith happens soon.
“There’s an old saying in the black church,” he muses. “Give
me my flowers while I’m alive.”