So, I’m leaving town for about two weeks. I’ll be in Hong Kong this weekend, and Sri Lanka for 13 days after that. It’s time to hang out in some dagobas, eat a few coconuts on the beach, and have decent roast goose (in HK).

In an effort to make sure I don’t have the sad, sad Tumblarity score of zero when I return (sniff), I’m leaving you with these photographs from Roy DeCarava. DeCarava passed away this week, and I haven’t really had time to reflect on his work. Now, looking back at some of his most famous (and not-so-famous) pictures, all I can say is: if you want to inject “politics” into your art, this is the way to do it.

Look at the way the man used bodies and space. Everything is at an angle, feels a bit unfinished, like there’s a narrative you could never know. So many people in his photos are alone, silent, waiting. What are they waiting for? It’s easy to fill in the blanks when you think about who he photographed: mostly poor African-Americans in Harlem in the middle of the last century. It’s easy to imagine why they are so alone in those big, unfeeling spaces too.

But he never hits you over the head with any of it. His people are still people, with thoughts, responsibilities, personalities. The politics aren’t the politics of policy, they’re the politics of humanity. Harlem will never be the same.