We Don't Need a Black Avedon By Adriant Bereal

Albeit his pictorial legacy is proven glinted and inflammable, his actions and life between each frame aren’t. Why are we so obsessed with the idea of a “Black Avedon”, “Black Mapplethorpe”, Black version of the white narcissist? What do we gain by shrinking ourselves into such narrow pathways? It’s probably the most uncool thing ever, aimless even. We’re born cooler than that! As I’m writing this I hear my brother Casey Gerald saying “There are things we should fight about.” as he told me one weekend in Washington Square Park, and Yash saying, “Nigga talk too much, call him Fred Moten.” (We love Fred Moten.) I was born on a Monday. I talk too much, and I like to fight. Today happens to be Monday, which is a great day for fighting.

I’m reminded of Carrie Mae Weems' work, “Black Boy Said” from her “Ain’t Joking” series. No matter how satirical or stereotypical, life is imitating art. Questions like “who/what are you inspired by?” spoil the thrill of learning someone, learning who they are and where they’re going. It is no different than being asked “what do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s a shortcut for reverence to pre-digest what needs time to be realized, a career which can’t be realized in one year. This is the pitfall many Black photographers are falling into by no fault of our own.

This question is premature.

Photography is a portal, a way 

. Committing to an artist’s light is committing to the journey. A lot of young artists are forced into an acceleration period to become all that’s desired from an audience in an instant.

Not only are we obsessed with being the Black-White, so are our beneficiaries who have no problem stuffing us into an acute pathway for commercial success, which I would define as the ability to make some bread not just for yourself but for others whilst cultivating a large audience. The sometimes vapid illuminations we leave on paper last lifetimes. We should realize the Black image beyond imitations of people that aren’t here anymore. There are people and places in the world that need lensing from individuals who care enough to be tender with them before and after the image is 

. Lensing someone is often uncompensable, and taken without care. Unfortunately when we put our eyes to the viewfinder it doesn’t read “Take with care” in the way rear view mirrors read “Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear.”

The power white people hold in photography or any art form is not transferable. This is not wealth transference. You can’t transfer a lack of regard for the need to pan the camera. You can’t transfer careers worth years of relationships from just being around. You can not transfer what can not be given. You 

 transfer access and opportunities to click the shutter and lens the world you live in. You 

 transfer money.

I’ve never heard a white person say “I want to be the white Denzel Washington.” Aspirational bullshit. White people don’t negotiate the real estate of their existence, they expect it. We should expect the same, not because that’s what they do, but because for 400 years we have been playing catch up trying to negotiate the livelihood of our well-being. I fear we’ve already wasted too much time in conversations like this one talking 

 the art, or making art, about how hard it is to make the art instead of 

 the art. There are obstacles such as lack of money or access for artists from lower socio-economic backgrounds which plague them severely more than others. Photography is a pay to play industry, but not all of us need to be photographers. Some of us would make great art directors given that photographers are not the only ones responsible for shaping our realization in the world of commercials. Neither of these truths make up for the fact that much of the success and autonomy of an artist’s career is also based in relationships most aren’t privy to.

And what about the nurturing? Who’s responsible for that? We all are. We owe it to one another to be honest, and pay a debt forward for someone behind us because that is what was done for us. A Black Mapplethorpe, a Black Avedon, it all sounds boring and devoid of real meaning. Our Black predecessors like The Hooks Brothers, James Van Der Zee, Carrie Mae Weems, and Dawoud Bey, who are both still alive, didn’t have Instagram at the start of their careers. They deserve our respect for making space and sending generations of light to the future. We should fight about the uselessness of a Black Avedon or Black Mapplethorpe. 

I’m not punching you in the face, I’m just simply telling you there’s dirt on your shoulder.

 to be a narcissist, carve your vapid illuminations of light in stone. Do it to a degree where we don’t mistake your images for imitations of our explore pages and mood board accounts ripping Weems out of catalogs for content. Commit.

Instead of asking “who do you want to be when you grow up?” let’s ask “where can we help you go?” I reject being crystallized before I’ve had time to fix my eyes on the coast of West Africa, the Tetons, East Texas, the lukewarm apartment in Paris, my niece's graduation, and many nights exchanging oral coordinates with strangers. We don’t need a Black Avedon. Nobody does. Avedon lived. Mapplethrope lived. They turned light to poetry, and it was beautiful. I’m following the light of Elijah Mogley, Casper Kofi, Dean Majd, Casanova Cabrera, Yashaddai Owens, Cassidy Arrington, Ming Smith, Deana Lawson, and those who have something important to say.

We’re at the edge of the frame. The shutter is open. The world is waiting on you to pan the camera. Pan the camera.





Adraint Khadafhi Bereal (he/him) is an artist from Waco, TX based in New York. His work untangles the nuances of American culture by interrogating and provoking the truth to rear its head. Adraint’s work has been published by Penguin Random House and featured by The New York Times, The Atlantic, and Aperture Magazine. He is also showing work with Nina Johnson Gallery for his first solo show, "Different Regard for Life" opening this September. Adraint is a graduate of The University of Texas at Austin with a BFA in Design.

We Don't Need a Black Avedon

Descend the stairs on Bond Street in Manhattan and you will find a tiny mecca of independent publishing hidden in plain sight. Led by David and Miwa’s passionate commitment to curating rare collectors’ editions, unique titles and self-published work. Since opening in 2005, Dashwood Books has had an enormous influence on contemporary photography worldwide. Owner David, originally from England, previously assisted Mario Testino and worked as the cultural director of Magnum Photo for years before realising he wanted to concentrate on books. Manager Miwa also runs her own ‘Session Press’, focusing on Japanese and Chinese photography. Her Instagram, which documents the Dashwood openings, is said to double as a dating site for Downtown Manhattan.

We asked the pair about their lifelong love affair with photography and books.




Is there a photography book you're looking at right now? What page are you on?

Miwa

:  I am currently reading I’m So Happy You Are Here: Japanese Women Photographers From The 1950s To Now (Aperture, 2024) by Pauline Vermare and Lesley A. Martin. I am grateful for Lesley and Pauline's long and hard endeavour to complete this masterpiece. I hope many people will learn more about the variety and beauty of female Japanese photographers' work through this publication.

: I just finished cataloguing some books I picked up in London at the OffPrint fair at the Tate in May. A notable one was Mongrelism by Jono Rotman, published by Here Press. It came out in 2018, but Jono had come to see me for years showing me how the project was evolving.  It’s a really special project and the book is an unusually beautiful and thoughtful treatment of a rough subject, the notorious Mongrel Mob - a violent group of bikers from New Zealand largely made up of indigenous Maori.


What photography book do you most often recommend to customers and why?

Miwa

: It really depends on the person’s needs, but when they are looking for contemporary photography that deals with various issues, I always recommend "Périphérique" by Mohamed Bourouissa. It addresses many social factors that we need to confront, and his work is visually powerful. It's a masterpiece!

I recommend photobooks that have the potential to broaden a customer’s perspective. If someone is only looking for a specific book without being open to exploring new possibilities, it defeats the purpose of having a physical location to serve our clients. By continuously learning and educating myself, I strive to be a better photobook consultant and introduce them to more than what they initially seek.



: There are a few books that come to mind based on genre, but the one I mostly end up recommending is probably Utatane by Rinko Kawauchi. It’s kind of a gateway drug for contemporary photobooks; a book that really opens the novice’s eyes to the possibility of the medium. Beautifully designed with simple elements that really elevate it, and the photographs and pairings have soulful depth to them with a universal appeal.



What sort of work do you like to publish? How do you find it and how do you choose?

Miwa

: For my own publishing company, Session Press, my main criterion is whether the work moves me. I don't mind working with a difficult photographer (though I hope they are nice to work with, he he) as long as I truly believe their work deserves to be published. I tend to be drawn to personal documentary photos, like those by Mao Ishikawa and Momo Okabe.


: I’m looking for artists who are really known for their work through books rather than prints. Ones who bring a lot to the projects and are looking to collaborate with publishers and graphic designers to create unique books. Generally I meet them in person through the store quite casually as they are often collectors as well.



What is the last photograph you took?

Miwa

: I always take photos of people at Dashwood. However, the last photo I received was from my designer, Geoff Han, for our upcoming publication by Wing Shya. It’s a test print, and it looks beautiful and promising. I’m excited to receive the final version of his book soon. Dashwood Project, run by Anne Christensen and David Strettell, will have his show around mid-November, along with his signing event. It will be exciting.

: I’m trying to lose some weight right now so I document my weight daily photographing my scales to keep track.


Do you take pictures aside from on your phone? If so, what camera do you use and why?

Miwa

: Rarely, but I have an old Fujica 6x4.5. I think it’s the smallest medium format film camera out there and it folds to fit in your pocket.



Can you send/scan a photograph or page that represents an important moment or memory related to your book collection?

Miwa

: I own many photobook references in my library, but Martin Parr and Gerry Badger’s The Photobook: A History was the first book that truly inspired me as a publisher, writer, and photobook consultant. While I appreciate criticism and reviews online, I still prefer print for the slow processing of understanding what authors want to convey.



: This was the cover of the first book we published, The Chance is Higher by Ari Marcopoulos. The cover subject is a London based musician called Alice Temple who had just had this large back tattoo completed and I encouraged Ari to photograph her.

The book was masterfully designed and produced by one of my favourite book designers, Gilles Gavillet. Miwa and I are collaborating with him on a book later this year by Takashi Homma.

Did you grow up surrounded by books?

Miwa

: My father, a mathematician, loved reading, and our house was filled with various types of books, including the Bible, the Koran, art history, Buddhist sculpture, literature, and philosophy. He used to buy me beautiful picture books at Sanseido-shoten in Jinbocho, and those early visual exposures certainly shaped my vision. In addition, My grandfather was a painter who aspired to be like Cézanne or Monet. Though he wasn’t as talented as those masters, his painting of the Buddha statue at Senso-ji, the oldest Japanese temple in Asakusa where I grew up, felt more authentic and impactful to me. It was the only time I praised his work, teaching me that true expression comes from within, not from imitation.



: My parents were in advertising and antiques and had a passing interest in art. We had a large house growing up and rented out rooms to students. Some of them were studying art and became friends and I got interested in art through them. My older sister, Jo, was a fashion student at Central Saint Martins in the 80s - she introduced me to a lot of fashion photographers growing up.



What would you be doing if you weren't running Dashwood? Is there an alternate career/life?

Miwa

: That’s a tough question, as I’m deeply immersed in my work at Dashwood and it’s hard to think of anything else. However, I would love to do something meaningful for a larger community while being surrounded by people I adore.



: I’ve worked with photographers in one form or another since I was 19 - first in fashion as an assistant and then in documentaries with Magnum Photos, so Dashwood is really my third career. I’m sure I’d be working with artists in some form or another whatever else I did.

Photobook Recomendations From David and Miwa of Dashwood Books

R&T S1 E3 Abdulhamid Kircher

Filmed over the course of seven years, the photographer Abdulhamid Kircher evolves as his subjects shift from strangers, to nature, to self. His diaristic work becomes a reckoning of masculinity, heritage, and sense of belonging as he addresses his fractured relationship with his father. The film follows Abdul as he builds up to the release of his newly published monograph, 'Rotting From Within’.

Abdulhamid Kircher

R&T S1 E3

Book #009 in the '6x4 Photobook Series' is ''Flash (Ah-Ah!)' by Zac Bayly.

These books are designed, assembled and bound in-house, with images printed in the 6x4 mini-lab format. This method allows us to produce high-quality books ourselves in small runs. All books are signed and editioned by the artist.

NB: Only a limited amount of these books are available online, they will predominantly be sold at book fairs DoBeDo Projects takes part in. Follow 

Size: 27 x 20.8cm
No. of Pages: 42
Edition No: 50
Print Type: Digital print on uncoated black stock
Publisher: DoBeDo, 2024

Flash (Ah Ah!) by Zac Bayly

'Flash (Ah-Ah!)' by Zac Bayly

For Abdulhamid Kircher, photography is a compulsive act. After picking up a Yashica point and shoot camera as a teenager, he first dabbled in self-portraiture, uploading these images to Tumblr. Later, he began using the medium as a way to get closer to people, capturing his family and taking intimate portraits of people on the peripheries of New York (he cites Diane Arbus as a formative influence). “I have this obsessive nature of trying to document everything around me,” he says. “I was really fascinated by being in the streets and meeting random people. When I had that camera in my hand it made me feel more powerful and gave me more of a reason to go out.”

Over the course of seven years of intermittent filming, a Reely and Truly episode documents Abdul as his hairstyles change over time and his voice drops. With heightened self-awareness, he looks back at the displacement that came with his adolescence. Now, as Abdul releases his work publicly for the first time, he describes his photography as a diaristic processing of relationships. His new book, 

 at carlier | gebauer in Berlin – is a deeply personal masterclass in unearthing and understanding generational trauma and the paternal figures who surround him.

Below, DoBeDo sat down with Abdulhamid Kircher to talk about his approach to the medium, his early days on Tumblr, and his conflicted feelings about commercial photography. 

DBD: Tell me about your new exhibition in Berlin?

AK: It’s intimidating because it’s my first show, and the gallery represents a lot of big artists. I want to make sure it’s done the way it needs to be done, but I also realise that the shows they usually do may not cost this much to produce. And the amount that my work would sell for is not anywhere near their other artists. So it feels like a lot of pressure.

DBD: It’s also a super personal body of work.

AK: Yeah. My best friend is also making a documentary about the people in the work, like my grandparents, my father, my mother, and my aunt. It’s really about understanding the people you see within the book, who come to life on the screen.

DBD: Where did you grow up? And where do you live now?

AK: I was born in Berlin. Around the age of eight, after my mum and my dad split up, and she met my stepdad, we moved to Washington DC because her new husband worked in the Pentagon. After a few months, we moved to New York. From there on out, I lived in New York but would go to Berlin every summer.

DBD: Why would you go to Berlin for the summer?

AK: My family was there, all my grandparents, my mum’s family. And my Turkish side of the family too.

DBD: You mention the “rich kids” at your high school – which school was that?

AK: I went to NYC Lab. Before that, I was in one of the worst high schools called Murry Bergtraum. Luckily my mum pushed me to go to Lab. If it wasn’t for that, I don't think I would've found photography. My photography stemmed from Tumblr. I initially bought a camera to take photos of myself or have my mum take photos of me, and I would upload them on Tumblr. Naturally, from just having the camera on me all the time in the city, I started taking photos of random shit. It really clicked for me when my friend gave me a little Yashica point and shoot. From that moment on, I knew that this was what I was meant to do.

AK: My first film camera was a Yashica T3. And my first digital camera was a Canon Rebel T3i with a little flip screen.

DBD: You said your friend gave you that Yashica?

AK: I'm not friends with him anymore so he doesn't need a shoutout. But he was like a brother to me. I spent a lot of time with people older than me.

AK: Yeah, and he treated the camera very much like a diary. He would basically take photos of everything in his life, and was getting prints made and collecting this huge archive. Seeing that early on really changed the way I treated the camera. And then I would literally just meet people in the street and see how far I could dig into their lives.

DBD: Then, when you were 19, this tall British guy says, "I want to make a film about you."

AK: I was excited. There are two people that have really impacted my frame of mind:  [Nobuyoshi] Araki and Wolfgang [Tillmans]. My way of image-making is very much Araki in the sense that I have this obsessive nature of trying to document everything around me.

DBD: Tell us about your new book, Rotting from Within? You were obsessed with these individuals who were perceived as outcasts, then in San Diego, you started shooting nature and water. Why the change of subject?

AK: San Diego was probably the lowest I've ever been in my life. I had just started dating my partner. As soon as I met her, I knew this was the person I wanted to be with forever. Having met a person like that, leaving my family home for the first time, then living by myself, in a place where you need a car to get around… It just got really bad at one point, but I'm very grateful for my time in San Diego because I tapped into this other side of myself and the way I see my work now. But I do think it had a really detrimental impact on my brain.

DBD: Did that push you to find new subjects to photograph?

AK: I turned to inanimate stuff because I had just built this immense archive of all these people, and all of a sudden, there were no people around me. I had always been drawn to photographing everything around me, and when I started going to the beach, I just noticed the environment evolving or changing every time I went. I felt like I still needed to be taking photos, even if it was just for the act of it.

DBD: Was the program your first time studying photography?

AK: I never went to photo school – I studied culture and media in undergrad and was actually the only photographer in my cohort in grad school. But at The New School, I would take random photography classes that I merely used to get access to the facilities and equipment. I had a few friends in photo programmes and everyone's work just looked the same. I didn’t want to fall into that place because I already had my own vision and how I was making work. I put a lot of energy into making sure that I was staying true to myself and my work.

DBD: How did your girlfriend play a part in Rotting from Within?

AK: In the back of the book, she narrates my diary entries. It was so important to have her involved because she was the catalyst for me understanding my relationship with my father and just the work in general. At grad school, I knew I wanted to focus on that body of work, but I was still struggling with how to grapple it. It wouldn't have been possible without her, so she needed to be part of it because she was there when I was uncovering everything. She understands me almost better than I do myself.

DBD: So she was able to thread it together?

AK: Exactly. Even with my thesis paper, it was all a jumble of thoughts and ideas, and she's very good at bringing it all together and making my brain make sense.

DBD: What does she do? Is she a photographer too?

AK: No, she hates photography. She just likes working on my stuff, which is good for me. She writes and is an actor mainly, but she's working on her own scripts as well.

AK: Hopefully my work picks up a bit after the show and the book, and I can do more shows around the world. Then I can think about restarting the process and focusing on another body of work, zone out for a bit, just scan everything, print everything, make selections, and start from square one. It's just a matter of deciding which body of work is next. It could be the Tony one, or this other part of my family, or an abstract book.

DBD: How have you been able to pay for life in New York while doing fine art photography?

AK: Before grad school I was babysitting while living at home. I would literally just make money so I could pay for film. While I was in grad school, I started assisting Rosie [Marks]. That really changed the way I was able to live my life. My thesis show cost me $20,000. And I did this job with Rosie right before that, I think I made $10,000 or something crazy like that. The overtime was crazy, we were shooting late into the night every day.

That's what I'm still doing now. Somehow every time I'm about to be completely broke, some assisting job comes through. And if you're making $700-800 a day, even if you just do two or three jobs a month, that's enough to cover rent and expenses. Assisting has allowed me to focus on my work and travel and do all these things without being tied to anything.

DBD: Does assisting also help from a technical perspective? Have you learned how to light things differently, for example?

AK: Not really because, funnily enough, I don't use lighting for my work. I've also totally weaned flash out of my work. I love trying to reach the purest form of taking a photo and documenting something exactly how it is being presented to me.

AK: Yes and no. I feel very conflicted. In a way it feels like I'm not succumbing to this capitalistic world. But I am because I'm still supporting it by assisting and reaping the benefits. I've spent a lot of time and energy trying to not make commercial work. And I’m not shunning anyone that does it, but photography plays this very specific role in my life. Once I turn it into this capitalistic tool, it will ruin it for me. I have tried to do some little editorials here and there, and they made me feel really bad. 

Watch Reely & Truly Epsiode 3: Abdulhamid Kircher 

Abdulhamid Kircher (b. 1996) is an artist from Queens, New York. He was born in Berlin to German and Turkish parents, and immigrated with his mother to the United States at the age of eight. His work is a living archive of place and people, as it is also a dedication to the language of photography, the mechanics and aesthetic possibilities of the form. Through his devotion to classical forms of image making and the radical experimentation required for each of his subjects, his process bridges the idea between document and narrative. He received his BA in Culture and Media from The New School in 2018 and his MFA in Visual Arts from the University of California San Diego in 2022.

Abdulhamid Kircher Interview

For British photographer Sarah Stedeford, photography is all about people.

Sarah Stedeford is the latest artist to collaborate with DoBeDo for the Photographers T-Shirt series, featuring images from her 2022 project 

. These were taken during the various marches against the Conservative government’s ‘Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill’ passed that same year, which marked numerous changes in human rights laws, including granting the police authority to carry out stop-and-searches, house raids and arrests on anyone they suspected of attending, or even planning to attend, a protest. This at a time when the UK’s immigration policies were growing – and continue to grow – ever more inhumane.

We catch up with Stedeford to find out more about her singular practice and the themes that underscore it, as well as the message behind the T-shirt.


DBD: What are the ingredients to a “good” picture, in your mind?

SS: I'm definitely drawn to honesty and authenticity in images. As well as stylistic and artistic expression. I really love the work of artists with a unique way of seeing, ones who have their own visual language. Images need to work on two levels to interest me: I need to find it visually interesting, but it’s also important that it has a story to tell. I'm also drawn to images that make me look at something from a new perspective, where the photographer has captured something maybe very mundane, over-documented or misunderstood and presented it in a completely new way. I think this is one of the many powers of photography, that you can almost see the world through someone else's eyes, and that this has the power to change the viewer’s perspective in the future.




DBD: Could you talk a bit about developing your style?



SS: A large part of my style has developed from the analogue process itself. Mistakes that you naturally encounter working with film and in the darkroom have inspired and shaped my work. Working with the photograph as an object, something you can touch and feel and that exists in the physical world. Colour shifts, contact sheets and annotations that would usually be kept in the back or thrown in the bin, have become part of my final works.




DBD: For those that haven’t seen it, could you talk a bit about your ongoing series 

SS: Beautiful Croydon is a portrait series that documents hair and beauty styles in Croydon, South London. Everyone photographed was scouted and photographed in the same instant. The series documents the rich culture of Croydon and the many different cultural and stylistic inspirations that are present in the same location.

In photographing the real people of Croydon, the project breaks down preconceived ideas and misconceptions of the area. The series celebrates the community and the underground street style that is present here.

All of the people photographed have an energy of strength, resilience and beauty, and together tell a story of the local area. The images also serve as a documentation of this place as well as a document of fashion and beauty styles in this time.




DBD: You’ve taken some really great pictures at protests, including the photographs used for this T-shirt. Can you describe what draws you to documenting demonstrations?



SS: Themes of anarchism and a focus on grass-roots activism run through my work. I’m drawn to communities and people-led movements and, like many, I have concerns about how this country, and the world, is getting more and more authoritarian; how power is increasingly being shifted away from the people and towards those in power. To see people come together peacefully to protest for the rights of themselves and others, as well as for future generations, gives me a lot of hope. The government recently stated that “mob rule is replacing democratic rule”, in particular reference to the current ongoing pro-Palestine protests. However, at all the protests I’ve attended, including the pro-Palestine marches, there’s an overwhelmingly peaceful and positive energy. Protest is an important part of a democratic society. In fact, without protest there is no democracy. As one of the protest placards photographed for the 

 series read, “RIP DEMOCRACY” – a reaction to the new laws now in place to prevent and police protest.




DBD: Yes, tell us about the Kill The Bill protests, and the decision to use these images for the T-shirt.



SS: Having to protest in order to protect the right to protest shows where we’re at with human rights in the U.K. at the moment. There’s a ridiculously long list of human rights and positive changes that have been won through protest: without it we would be living in a much darker world. Protest is where real people-led change comes from. So the simple message that “protest is not a crime” is a powerful way to tell this story, and to push back against the mainstream narrative and new laws now in place, which criminalise the act of protest.




DBD: And how about the slogan on the front: “The people united will never be defeated”?



SS: It was important for me to bring the positive energy I feel at protests to life with the T-shirt. These subjects can be overwhelming and

depressing but when everything is getting heavy, going to a protest and meeting and marching with other people as part of a community, recharges me and makes me feel hopeful, so I wanted this to translate. The message itself is a protest chant, which was suggested by Eden who’s pictured in the portrait. I felt like it summed it up perfectly: it’s exactly the message I wanted to put across.


T-Shirt #033 by Sarah Stedeford is now available in our 



See Sarah Stedeford’s 6x4 photobook, 