Black Futures Month: Naomieh Jovin
© Naomieh Jovin
Written by Emily Capone
Edited by Jana Massoud
Photo Editor : Kahdeem Prosper Jefferson
Trauma through separation (dismemberment) is a prevalent topic within the discussion of African diaspora in America, and for good reason. While many are waking up to the realization that this separation has yet to be erased, a separation within the family unit is becoming just as prevalent. This is a permanent realization that Naomeih Jovin (b. 1995) focuses on within her photography, especially in her most recent works which display an intimate reworking of her family photo album. Showcasing the images of Haitian-American life as a young girl, Jovin separates reality with the emotion of separation as an outsider from within her own Haitian home and the world she was brought up in.
As a photographer, Jovin utilizes her own familial photography as an experiment, identifying the world that is visible from the world that is perceived, as if walking a tight rope of one that lies in between. As a Haitian and an American, the ability to become what is needed (Haitian at a family gathering vs. American in daily life) is tiring and traumatic.
© Naomieh Jovin
It may be said that, in a traumatic event, we become what is necessary to fit in. What is particularly interesting is the way in which Jovin showcases this understanding of trauma in her ability to completely erase figures with the use of color, while maintaining the physicality of others. This erasure, then, is the ability to mask the trauma, and we are left with blank spaces that are full of vibrant, beautiful color. And then there are the faces which are left behind to be shown. Why did Jovin choose to leave them? we ask. Is this person important compared to the ones who are covered?
© Naomieh Jovin
This selection covered versus uncovered faces may be a random choice, however, it may be a more open statement of being, as of her grandmother, who was unafraid to show herself as a Haitian woman (even if Jovin was embarrassed of this at a young age). This stark contrast of the Haitian woman in media coverage (e.g. diasporic, broken down, destitute) is instead fully embraced as “Gwo Fanm” for the world to see. In regards to this display of the “big woman” in her photographs, Jovin states in an interview with The Nation, “If you stand out, it lets people see you, and some people won’t like what they see.” And this statement is one Jovin showcases in her own reimagining of her family photos.
As in many societies, the camera is a weapon for truth. In 2022, Jovin’s statement is taking on a new meaning for black history, as the true nature of our “seperated” culture is revealed in real time (George Floyd’s unjustified death and countless more racial crimes). Whether a version of this truth is told through color-blocked family photos of Haitian American photographer, Naomeih Jovin, or others, like black photojournalist, Andre D. Wagner (b. 1986), the camera will remain a weapon to show racial injustice, as stated by black photographer, Gordon Parks (b. 1912).
© Naomieh Jovin
In celebration of Black History Month, we would like to focus on emerging black artists, such as Naomeih Jovin. Jovin incorporates her own family albums to illustrate intergenerational trauma and resistance, focusing on how these traumas are carried through the past and the physical body. Her work has been featured in Aperture, LensCulture Critics’ Award, 2021, the 2021 Pew Center for Arts & Heritage, and more.
