Renty

 J.T. Zealy, “Renty, Congo. Plantation of B.F. Taylor, Esq.,” (frontal) March 1850.

Joseph T. Zealy took a series of daguerreotype portraits of African-American slaves in Columbia, S.C., in 1850. The photographs followed the frontal mug shot and profile conventions established for the identification of criminals. Pictured here is Renty, Congo plantation of B.F Taylor, Esq. This and other daguerreotypes will be on display at the Lakefront and Theater galleries.

J.T. Zealy, “Jack (driver), Guinea. Plantation of B.F. Taylor, Esq., Columbia, S.C.,” (frontal) March 1850.
J.T. Zealy, “Delia, country born of African parents, daughter of Renty, Congo. Plantation of B.F. Taylor, Esq.,” (frontal) March 1850


Black bodies, white science, Daguerreotypes by J.W. Zealy. Faces of Slavery

Consider the often illustrated example of the Zealy daguerreotypes, photographs of partially nude South Carolina plantation slaves that were commissioned in 1850 by the eminent Harvard scientist Louis Agassiz (and that ended up in the anthropology museum there). Ironically Agassiz wanted these photographs to be read as evidence—specifically as scientific evidence for polygenesis, the idea that human races had separate origins and were thus inescapably and irrevocably different. The chosen slaves, according to the captions found with the images, were either born in Africa or born of African parents. Somehow these images were supposed to convince presumably white viewers that the black African body was so alien that the African “race” must be, in effect, a separate species.

    “A negroid type, you became a scientific profile, an anthropological debate & a photographic subject”


All of the quoted text below is taken from Chapter 1 of the book, Reading American Photographs: Images as History; Matthew Brady to Walker Evans, by Alan Trachtenberg (1989):

    In March 1850, Louis Agassiz, celebrated Harvard natural scientist and widely admired Cambridge intellectual, arranged through the good offices of Dr. Robert W. Gibbes for a local daguerreotypist in Columbia, South Carolina, J.T. Zealy, to take a series of pictures of African-born slaves at nearby plantations. Zealy made the pictures in his studio, turned them over to Gibbes, who shipped them to Agassiz at Harvard, where in 1976, at the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, they were found in storage cabinet.


    … Agassiz had visited several plantations in 1850 while in South Carolina to address a meeting of scientists in Charleston on the topic of the “separate creation” of the human races. That notion, which denied the unity of mankind, seemed to provide a scientific or natural basis for racial inequality and slavery. After the meeting, at which the Harvard scientist thrilled his Southern audience by endorsing the doctrine that mankind had no common origin, Agassiz expressed interest in examining African-born slaves. … He wanted firsthand evidence of anatomical uniqueness and also to see if these distinct traits would survive in American-born offspring. “Agassiz was delighted,” wrote Gibbes, “with his examinations of Ebo, Foulah, Gullah, Guinea, Coromantee, Mandingo, and Congo Negroes,” satisfying himself that “they have differences from other races.” He asked Gibbes to arrange for the photographs, and took his leave.

    … The Zealy daguerreotypes reflect the unusual circumstances of Agassiz’s request. They show a conventional studio setup with a patterned carpet and the headrest stand usually hidden behind the sitter’s back. The daguerreotypes themselves feature the gold-plated overmat and wooden case typical of the commercial artifact. However, the persons portrayed here are standing naked: not “representative” in [Mathew] Brady’s sense of an imagined and desired America, but examples of specimens of a “type” — a type, moreover, of complete otherness. It is difficult to view these images now without a sense of outrage at the indecency of the poses and the system of bondage they reflect — the absolute power of masters over the bodies of their slaves. The response is heightened by the extraordinary fact of male nudity, of genitals presented directly to that daguerrean eye in what must have been a genteel Columbia, S.C., daguerrean gallery or “parlor,” of women asked to disrobe not for prurient purposes but for “science.”

    … Without a public mask to mediate their encounter with the lens, the eyes of the enslaved Africans can only reveal the depths of their being — for, as naked slaves, they are permitted no social persona. In the absence of the clues which define Brady’s portraits as formal, heroic, at once individual and illustrious, and yet in the presence of certain conventional signs — the carpet, the stand, the case and framing mat — we confront a disturbing contradiction. The illustrations are trapped within a system of representation as firmly as the sitters are trapped within a system of chattel slavery. And they powerfully inform us of our own entrapment. We know how to view conventional portraits — but to gaze upon naked bodies, male and female, of persons dispossessed of themselves, is another matter. The effect even now can be confusing, erotic response mingling with moral disgust and outrage. Above all, the pictures suggest a potentially subversive power within the daguerrean effect of immediacy — including its eroticism — a power to subvert the very conventions of portraiture which the works of commercial studios shaped. Often we feel a similar effect in anonymous images found in old shops or studied in collections — an uncanny rapport with vibrant shadowy traces of persons on a silver-coated plate, who continue to live in spite of stilted poses and stiffness. The Zealy pictures reveal the social convention which ranks blacks as inferior beings, which violates civilized decorum, which strips men and women of the right to cover their genitalia. And yet the pictures shatter that mold by allowing the eyes of Delia and the others to speak directly to ours, in an appeal to a shared humanity.

    Zealy_Renty_Lg
    “Renty, Congo, on plantation of B.F. Taylor, Columbia, S.C.” [click for larger version]

    … By allowing their subjects to gaze through the lens directly at us, the Zealy portraits immobilize the physiognomic theory which supports [Marcus Aurelius] Root’s confidence. Stripped of everything deemed intrinsic to selfhood and “character,” if not humanness itself, they are simply themselves — what we see. The photographer takes no pains to “portray” them or to elicit an expression. By obeying his commission to present them as bodies rather than persons, as biological specimens, Zealy allows them to be as they are: black slaves constrained to perform the role of specimen before the camera. The absoluteness of their confinement to this role has the unintended effect of freeing their eyes from any other necessity but to look back at the glass eye staring at them. Their gaze defies the scrutinizing gaze aimed at their nakedness, and challenges the viewer of these daguerreotypes to reckon with his or her responses to such images.


Consider the often illustrated example of the Zealy daguerreotypes, photographs of partially nude South Carolina plantation slaves that were commissioned in 1850 by the eminent Harvard scientist Louis Agassiz (and that ended up in the anthropology museum there). Ironically Agassiz wanted these photographs to be read as evidence—specifically as scientific evidence for polygenesis, the idea that human races had separate origins and were thus inescapably and irrevocably different. The chosen slaves, according to the captions found with the images, were either born in Africa or born of African parents. Somehow these images were supposed to convince presumably white viewers that the black African body was so alien that the African ? must be, in effect, a separate species. As teachers we need to make clear that we reject the claims of these images to be scientific evidence, but are they evidence of anything else? What can our students learn from looking at them?

One of the dangers is to use these images as windows into their subjects’ plight, or their character, or their emotional life. It is hard not to speculate about how they feel: are they defiant or upset, comfortable or abused, emotionally bared or hidden? How would I feel in their position? The problem is not the questions per se but the fact that the photographs themselves cannot answer them. The images give us no reliable access to the slaves lived situation. Why? Because in between the viewer and the photographed slave stands a row of technicians and power brokers who all had a hand in shaping these images: the photographer in his studio, the plantation owner who delivered the human subjects, and the scientist who conceived the project. The photographs are more about this complex web of relations than about the slaves themselves.

It is easy to grasp the most obvious fact about these relations—the powerlessness of the slaves—but we hardly need photographs to reveal that aspect of slavery. More to the point, the images give students an opportunity to think about how important it was to control slave bodies, not just in a physical sense but in a social and cultural sense.
 

A DAGUERREOTYPE OF “RENTY,” A CONGO SLAVE
by George Higgins

He owns the leaf in his hand, his owner’s scorn.
The chemicals lop, etch, emulsify;
his gray hair radiates, a nest of thorns.
He stares back brutally, bleared, peppercorn,
some master’s crop, crushed in the glare. His eyes
are silvery, oiled, almost metallic, toilworn.
Today the cell mates clot below, most black.
In bright smocks, yellow and orange, they climb
the steps. How many behind the glass this week?
I pick a folder up from the ordered stack,
a criminal worn thin from serving time.
This one leans forward and begins to speak.

*“Plight Deepens for Black Men, Studies Warn” by Erik Eckholm, 3/20/06,
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/20/national/20blackmen.html