Photography: This Year's Cotton Crop

-



These are some photos I took on the way to North Carolina two weeks ago. I love taking pictures of cotton. It's part of my heritage and who I am. Many of us (white and black Americans) would like to forget about the not so distant past when African Americans were slaves in this country, but it's difficult for me to forget because my family never completely left the county our ancestors were enslaved in. Therefore, I celebrate the beauty of that heritage in writing, pictures, and song (when I learn how to play an instrument or sing). *smile* I embrace and love that part of me that touches down deep...deep in my soul. Peace~

Comments

Babz Rawls Ivy said…
Hey Stephen Bess,
Cotton photographs beautifully. Yes our history is rich and painful. My maternal grandparents are from NC. They amassed a large farm...which I own today. They grew cotton....lots of cotton. They were just above being sharcroppers if there is such a thing. I remember going there and watching folks picking cotton and running throw the fields and trying to stay out of the way. And how nice folks were and how they had really big meals for lunch and always shared with us.

Thanks for bringing a memory of my grandparents to me. I have not thought of that in a long long time.
Monday, September 29, 2008 10:31:00 PM
Geoffrey Philp said…
Stephen, I love the juxtaposition in the last photo and I also suspect that there's a poem lurking behind this post and the photos--so much history!

1Love,
Geoffrey
Tuesday, September 30, 2008 10:24:00 AM
Anonymous said…
It's really a very relieving sight to see cotton balls spitting out of their once young buds. I can remember we used to have a few in the backyard but lost them afterwards, maybe because I was too young to realize about cottons.

Now all I can do is miss that sight so much until I see it here in your blog. Thank you for reminding me again of my happy childhood, now worries and problems on food and politics and greedy people fighting not because of principles but of who gets the bigger share of the red tape money.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008 10:36:00 AM
Sandy said…
There you go picking cotton again... :) I've never told you but you have a great eye! your photography is the bomb! hope all is well with you homie and happy belated birthday :)
Tuesday, September 30, 2008 11:34:00 AM
Sista GP said…
i recall driving through rural georgia and explaining to my son how the cotton crops became clothing. he was so amazed.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008 9:45:00 AM
Cergie said…
I like this pictures that you liked to take. They are a symbol of your memory of course.
In the past even in Europe the ancestors of most people had no rights. In the world there are still slaves ; children working for food instead of learning at school.
Hope all of that will be just memory, one day...
Wednesday, October 01, 2008 3:18:00 PM
M. Akamau said…
We have some cotton in our living room, on the shelf of our entertainment center. It stays there day after day...a reminder of who we are and where we've come from. The fabric of our lives, right?

Take care,
Michele
Wednesday, October 01, 2008 3:53:00 PM
fitzgerald said…
Great photos and I like to think back to when cotton was king too.

Your pictures cause me to hear the harmonica music playing as our people entertained themselves after spending a hard day of working the cotton fields.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008 7:46:00 PM
Stephen A. Bess said…
Lovebabz-
Thank you for sharing that wonderful story.

Geoffrey-
Poem lurking? Always. :)
~1Love

Capiz-
I happy to provide relief from this mess. Thanks for stopping in.

Sandy-
Why you ain't never tell me that I have a good eye, but I can't speak good English.

Sistagp-
It's good to make that connection. That was a learning moment.

Cergie-
Thanks for sharing that from a global perspective. Good to see you.

Michele-
Most definitely sister. Good to see you. Be well.

Fitz-
You know I gotta learn that harmonica man! Give me some time.
Thursday, October 02, 2008 1:28:00 PM
J.M said…
Let me take a hit at that poem:

For Martin

Fluffy puffs adrift
like dreams
in the wind
heading to a place
where they distill
and clothe the earth
in green.
Thursday, October 02, 2008 11:29:00 PM
Professor Zero said…
Gorgeous post. Someone here is growing cotton as an ornamental plant in their yard, and it's marvelous. I need to get some, too.
Thursday, October 02, 2008 11:36:00 PM
Rose said…
You take some magnificent pictures. I tried to pick cotton when I was 13 in Itta Bena Miss. I almost fainted and they took me back to my aunt's house on the back of a truck. Your pictures just made me remeber how hard that was and how blessed I was that I didn't have to stay and pick to help the family.
Friday, October 03, 2008 11:58:00 PM
neena maiya (guyana gyal) said…
My mother used to sing them ole African-American songs to me as a child, she even knows the stories behind the songs, the cotton reminds me of them songs.
Monday, October 27, 2008 3:09:00 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

DC Legend: Chicken Wings & Mumbo Sauce

-
Image
Mumbo Jumbo Noun. 1. Confusing or incomprehensible language or activity. 2. An obscure ritual or incantation. [Mandingo origin.] American Heritage Dictionary Of the English Language Mumbo sauce? Anyone who has ever traveled east of the Anacostia River has heard the term, Mumbo Sauce. What do I mean by east of the river? I mean if you have ventured anywhere near Benning Road, Wheeler Road, Southern Avenue, or Minnesota Avenue in North/Southeast Washington, D.C. There is no way that you can go into any Korean owned and operated “Kerry-Out” [ trans. Carry-Out food ] in DC and not hear someone order french fries with chicken wings and Mumbo Sauce. Impossible! Some like it on the chicken and others (like me) like it on the side. I’ve always thought of Mumbo Sauce as a DC thang, but where did it really come from?  Actually, Mumbo Sauce originated on Chicago's Southside in the early 1950s by a man named Argia B. Collins, who was known for his famous ribs and barbeque Mumbo Sauce. N...
Read more

Remembering Linda Pollin

-
Image
I grew up in the  Linda Pollin Memorial Housing Projects.   First of all, I did not know that it was built in memory of Abe Pollin's daughter.  In fact, I didn't even know the name, Abe Pollin.  I was a child, so I thought it was just a name given to the apartments.  At the time, my siblings and I had no idea that we lived in a housing project.  Well, the complex had a swimming pool, and the grounds were well kept. Also, it didn't resemble the well known surrounding projects like  Valley Green , Condon Terrace , or Wahler Place . The manager was Ms. Royster who was sort of a no-nonsense type of landlord based on the conversations I heard from grownups.  However, she seemed nice; plus, we all played with and knew her son, John. Well, although Mr. Pollin passed away back in 2009, I would still like to thank him for building the "LP" as we used to call it.  When I became old enough to learn that it was built by Mr. Pollin to honor his ...
Read more

Frank Brown (A.K.A. Uncle Ben???)

-
Image
Did you know that Uncle Ben was a real person? We really don't care who is fact or fiction when we want some rice to go with those red beans or peas. We just want to eat, right? Well, Uncle Ben was a African American rice farmer from Texas who won many prizes for his methods and quality in growing rice. I know that most of us think of Asia when it comes to the cultivation and quality of rice, but there was a region in West Africa that Europeans called the "Rice Coast" near Sierra Leone. That area was a strategic focus during the slave trade in the late 1760's because rice was becoming a fast growing industry in America. Uncle Ben's ancestors were most likely victims of the rice boom. Anyway, Uncle Ben's reputation grew and his rice soon became the standard in which all rice would be measured. How did his face get on the box? Did he start his own company? Well, no. That's not even his face on the box. The face on the box was a man from Chicago named Frank B...
Read more