The Obsidian Project: Black is the Color…

‘When I look at my skin I see Earth. I see a perfect blend of massive oak tree trunks, Georgia red clay, muddy waters and all human skin tones, giving me [us] a strong, special connection with this planet we are spinning around on.’

Framed to the right, Danny’s face is in focus close up with the sun casting a deep shadow on the right side of her face. Smiling widely, she is a dark brown with blue undertones accentuated by a light blue brick background. She wears a green hat with black lines that covers her locks. The collar on her red undershirt and white t-shirt are just visible in the shot.

‘…It seems that having dark skin keeps me more visible and vulnerable compared to my other Black friends. While growing up all the way through high school, I was condemned by my peers for having dark skin. But now as an adult, I am mostly praised because of my dark complexion. While I accept compliments, both situations give me a great amount of anxiety at times. It has become overwhelming when someone’s first words to me center on my skin. … My dark complexion has defined me as pure ugliness or exotic.’

Framed to the left, Lamont’s body drapes across a white couch, his face not visible. His arms and legs are visible as he sits with one leg crossed over the other at the knee with his hands on his shin. His navy blue t-shirt is only partially visible as are his dark grey stripped shorts. The contrast between the pink flesh of the inside of his and fingers and the rich deep brown of his skin are the focal point of the image.

‘I don’t know what to say. It’s been an issue.’

Corrine leans against a large spray painted ad for the Cartoon Network show The Boondocks. Huey, a character from the show frames the right side of the image and above her head are letters from the ad’s copy. Corrine looks casually to the right, one arm holding the other at the elbow. She has big red sunglasses and a faded light blue Wonder Woman t-shirt with a long bead necklace. Her complexion is most like the color used to fill in Huey’s eyes.

‘I love how my dark skin glistens in the hot sun in the summer. It makes me look and feel like a brilliant, bronze statue. (Not many people can say that.)’

Stanton looks directly into the camera just to the right of the center of the image. His eyes are warm an unflinching. He is framed by overgrown kudzu on the fence behind him. He sits on a brown metal bench, the color of his complexion, tagged with black spray paint. His black t-shirt’s writing is covered by a black vest.

‘My aunt always told me I was beautiful. I just held on to that.’

Fee sits with her legs folded to her right side, back lit by a lamp that gives her pouting lips shine. Just the bottom of her face is visible as she sits on a sea of brown, her left arm crossed in front of her body with three wide multicolor bangles on her wrist. Her white shirt dips low. She is resolute.

‘I just want to talk about how color matters. We know that race matters, and part of race is color. Why is it so hard to talk about, amongst ourselves?’

Only my nose and eyes are visible, face and red frame glasses dusted with skin cells and sleep. I look into the mirror into the camera. My skin is an orange brown that seems to betray the labels I’ve heard all my life. I wonder.