Boy with Balloon
Boy with Balloon - Donald Black, Jr.
When I was younger I used to have this magenta colored polo shirt that, if I could have, I would have worn every day. A thick, single white stripe cut through the chest area. Inside the stripe, there was a group portrait of Ronald McDonald and his friends. I wore it once for picture day back in the late 80s. I thought I was the coolest girl alive whenever I wore it.
I was recently having a conversation with artist Donald Black, Jr. about one of his photographs titled, “Boy with Balloon.” The black and white photograph captures a Black boy—dressed in tennis shoes, jeans and a striped shirt—playing with a balloon. The image instantly directs me back to my childhood, and strangely enough, I think about my striped Ronald McDonald shirt. The boy’s striped shirt pulls me into a complicated headspace. Not only does it trigger a memory about my own personal 80s swag, but it also makes me think about the unforgettable royal blue and white striped polo shirt my brother wore on his picture day.
Here is where Black’s photograph gets complicated, or should I say, interesting. These intense thoughts about Black boys dressed in stripes begin slicing through my mind. Why can’t the thoughts about innocence and childhood and play stay on my mind? Why does this image of a Black boy dressed in stripes have to lead towards imprisonment, corruption, and isolation? This is where internalized oppression welcomes itself and dominates, what should be, a pleasurable moment with art. The portrait begins to feel eerie. The symbolism of the balloon goes from pure joy to achievement to playfulness to isolation to loneliness.
Alone with the image, I struggle to ignore the boy’s hands. His right hand is open and stretching for a string that is tied to the balloon to (perhaps) pull the balloon closer to him. For all we know, a balloon in a Black boy’s hand could mean comfort, freedom, victory, or company. And this boy in particular, appears to be close to achievement even though he is still in the act of reaching. But it is the boy’s left hand that empowers me. His left arm is raised straight up while his fingers are clenched into a fist, gripping the balloon’s string. The fist feels powerful, joyous even.
And now the stripes and the balloon and the boy’s head titled upwards comfort me. Looking at this photograph feels like a study on childhood, on captivity, on freedom, on memory and I’m here to learn everything it wants to teach me. I think about when the moment was captured, and from what I know about Black, he probably saw the little boy engaging with the balloon—thought about his own attraction to childhood and balloons—and grabbed his camera to capture the moment. If I had to guess, I’d say Black’s attraction to balloons and childhood stems from a place of longing for freedom and innocence.
But I think Black also saw a boy who was focused and determined rather than simply lonely or confined. And this is the complexity in Black’s work that I spoke of earlier, and this is what I truly admire. When you spend time with his work you discover that his genius lies in his ability to communicate layers and layers of information.
Today, the balloon is so vast it almost becomes a character. Balloons are not limited to birthday or graduation parties. Balloons have become profoundly visible in Black culture—especially when someone has died. Balloon releases have become a singular event. We run out to Party City or Dollar Tree to get balloons that represent the deceased’s favorite color or at least a color that represents them. At the event everyone receives a balloon and then someone usually says a few words or a prayer and then everyone unleashes their balloon into the sky. With this in mind, the boy in Black’s photograph could be dedicating the moment to a loved one that has slipped away from him too soon.
And what do we make of the monochrome tonality of the image? Why does Black leave it to us to imagine the color of the boy’s clothes and the balloon? Is Black trying to call our attention to old prisoner uniforms? Are the black and white stripes a reminder of the past? If this isn’t Black’s intention I sure as hell can’t get these thoughts out of my mind. Here, Black helps me tap into multiple histories—the personal and political. In the beginning of my experience with “Boy with Balloon” my mind rushed towards my own childhood. I recalled my favorite striped shirt. I remembered my brother’s striped shirt. Now, those memories have faded and I am left thinking about Black boys who struggle with loneliness and isolation.
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All it takes is for someone to drive through some of the roughest parts of Cleveland to witness the beauty and impact of Donald Black, Jr.’s photography. Black’s work is on the ground alongside the people who are from the same environment that he represents. And when you hear his story, with all of its rugged and rough edges, you’ll understand why it’s so impressive that he was able to maintain the focus needed to avoid falling into the traps that his environment steadily situated and promoted. Here, there are no stories of happy endings, white picket fences, silver spoons or long lists of impressive schools, exhibitions and awards. Instituting himself and tabulating all of his accomplishments isn’t as impressive as knowing how serious and meaningful art is to the person who is doing it to stay alive. Find more of Black, Jr.’s work at https://www.donaldblackjr.com/
Ali Black is a writer from Cleveland, Ohio. She is the recipient of the Academy of American Poets University & College Poetry Prize for her poem “Kinsman.” Her work has appeared in december, jubilat, Literary Hub, The Offing and elsewhere. Her first book of poetry, If It Heals At All was selected by Jaki Shelton Green for the New Voices series at Jacar Press and it was named a finalist for the 2021 Ohioana Book Awards.