Damn Good Designer Genes, Joseph Patrick II

Damn Good Designer Genes, Joseph Patrick II

J oseph Patrick sits beneath his Bare Witness Triptych, his eyes glowing with excitement as he details the vision behind his exhibition, Body of Work. His main camera, a Mamiya RZ67, sits beside him on the wood table. 

Inspired by photographers like Carrie Mae Weems and Herb Ritts, Patrick has forged a path from photojournalist and fashion photographer to contemporary artist. Enter Body of Work. The exhibition includes 17 images from seven different series: Cinnamon and Brown Sugar I and II, Damn Good Designer Genes, Alone Together/To Gather Alone, Bare Witness Triptych, Crystal Blossom, Untitled(s) and Black Venus/I’m Black, No Sugar.

A common reaction to a woman’s nude body is to fetishize, criticize or sexualize it. What if we were to remove these lenses of misogyny and instead add a single lens of appreciation — or even curiosity? 

Gallery Hours: Tuesday-Friday 11 a.m.-7 p.m.; Saturday

10 a.m.-2 p.m.

Both 36-by-24 inches, Cinnamon and Brown Sugar I and II feature two women, but their faces are turned away from the camera, as if Patrick has chosen to hide their faces from the viewer. The figures lean against each other leisurely. With a gradient sky-blue background granting them a commonality, you can really focus on the bodies and enjoy the differences between them. The cool-toned skin of “Brown Sugar” plus the warm, golden skin tones of “Cinnamon.” Brown Sugar’s tight, textured hair and Cinnamon’s locs. The lighting perfectly illuminates the smoothness of their skin and curvature of their lines — the captivating individuality of Blackness. 

Cinnamon and Brown Sugar I and II sit as a dynamic set — a story of reclamation and identity. Named after terms once used to fetishize Black women, Cinnamon and Brown Sugar now bask in these reclaimed titles to poetically celebrate the female form. 

Next to this set hangs a three-part series titled Damn Good Designer Genes. Each portrait features a different woman who faces the camera with washes of color adorning her skin. In the first photo, the model holds an unfurled white flower to her crown in the left hand, while she fingers a single petal with the other. Strokes of sunflower-yellow frame her face as her neutral-toned skin is highlighted by the ocean-blue backdrop. Her facial expression is placid and calm, her eyes delicately closed. 

The second photo shows a figure leaning her crown on her hand in front of a scarlet-orange backdrop. Her face is glowing with shades of tangerine, while her décolletage and shoulders are painted a sapphire-blue. Eyes closed, lips parted, she looks like a sleeping beauty, seemingly caught in a dream. 

In each photograph, each woman is captured just above the chest lying on her side. These are the portraits of lovers and muses waiting to be devoured by desiring eyes. Cast in a world of color and blooming flowers, these two women embody goddesses of healing, grace and peace. 

The third and final piece in this triptych showcases the woman with dashes of red and gold on her skin, sitting against a dark, forest-green backdrop. Unlike the first two figures, her eyes are open — she has no flower. She seems to exude the kind of confidence that comes from the abundance of nature and divine femininity. This last image hints at a transition — that a transformation is coming. 

Next hangs “Black Venus,” a black-and-white photograph depicting feminine sensuality and invigoration. The subject grips her hip while light cascades down the side of her body. This woman feels like a secret — like the camera chose not to capture her face, but to keep her identity hidden. Black Venus isn’t just one woman, or even a mirage — she’s a call of embodiment to awakened Black women. “She’s imposing, but not threatening,” Patrick says. 

Patrick has discovered a way for nude Black bodies, lighting and poses to speak to one another and begin a formal dialogue in a single image. Each series is a new opportunity to normalize Black bodies and deradicalize Black beauty. The shadows that trace a muscular thigh. The light that captures a bare breast. The shine and definition of coily tresses. The smoothness of freshly lotioned arms. 

Black nudity can be a source of vulnerability, but it can also be an opportunity for strength. Black bodies have been subject to appropriation, othering and fetishization. Patrick showcases the beauty of each Black body, whether through black-and-white images or color. 

With Body of Work, Patrick helps lay a path for the evolution of contemporary nude photography and future Black photographers. 

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