Christian K. Lee’s portraits of Black people with guns are a bit startling, if only because it is rare to see images of real guns, presented without a negative spin, at a serious art institution like the Colorado Photographic Arts Center.
But Lee’s show does come with context. First, he is a military veteran, and CPAC has worked closely with vets since 2017, offering an annual, free workshop that includes six months of serious photo-taking instruction, along with the technical know-how to produce a portfolio or even to start a professional picture-taking career. Along with that, the center has regularly given this particular group a place on its exhibition walls.
But it also comes with context for Lee personally, who has spent the past several years seeking out Black gun owners to photograph for his ongoing series, which is featured in his current exhibition, “Armed Doesn’t Mean Dangerous.”
As the title implies, his subjects maintain their weapons legally and reasonably, using them for “sport, hobby and protection,” as he puts it. They are, to place it in the current cultural parlance, ordinary Americans, exercising their Second Amendment rights.
But — and this is the artist’s point — it’s also within the context of an America that often shows Black people with guns in a negative light. That did not make sense to King, who grew up around guns and was the steward of his own weapons in the military.
Lee’s father was a Chicago-area police officer, so guns were a normal part of his life. “I always saw him have a gun and I knew other people like my father existed in my community,” Lee said.
“So, why do I only see them on TV when it’s a crime?” he recalled asking himself. And so his artistic project began.
The series includes images of people like Tiana Tucker, who Lee photographed in her Chicago living room, sitting on an upholstered chair, gazing back at the photographer. She is wearing a blue top and fashion-forward blue jeans with threads exposed at the knees.
The picture, taken in 2022, is like many portraits that seek to evoke the personality of a subject through the lens of a camera. But it is hard not to notice the handgun paced purposefully on a side table next to her, propped up at an angle so it catches the light. The pistol is not exactly the focus of the photo — it’s more about getting to know Tucker personally — but it shows that this gun is a part of her story.
Lee, who grew up in the Inglewood community of Chicago, originally went to school for journalism. At one point he had an internship with The Washington Post. But he found the idea of doing that job as a career limiting.
“As a journalist, you’re supposed to be unbiased. And I just felt like, with the things I wanted to talk about, I couldn’t be unbiased,” he said. “They were so personal.”
He spent four years in the Army and decided to go to art school. He holds an MFA from the Chicago Art Institute.
His current, ongoing project requires considerable research. He has to find Black people with guns who are willing to be photographed. For that, he networks with other gun owners and hangs out at places like practice ranges, getting to know folks.
His photographs all take place at the residences of his subjects, so he has to build trust, and that requires time. The picture-taking part — setting up equipment, finding the correct positions — can take hours.
But the results are pointed, and they feel up close and personal.
For example, the 2021 photograph titled simply, “Trelle and his family, Killeen, TX,” shows what appears to be a family of four — father, mother and two sons — standing under the shade of an oak tree on their front lawn. The photo has two personalities. On one hand, it shows their closeness, the mother embraces the father, everyone stands very close together.
But on the other, the two sons are brandishing pistols that they seem to be very comfortable handling. There are undercurrents of both expressing constitutional rights, and an ability to self-protect should the need arise. It’s both a warm and edgy scene at the same time.
There are similar dualities in photos such as “Aaron Banks Jr and Sr, Cedar Park, TX,” which captures a father and son, dressed in matching T-shirts and denim shorts, embracing each other — and a very conspicuous rifle.
There is a related vibe in the work “Pastor Andrew Long and Trina’ Duncan, Killeen, TX.” The 2021 photo shows a man and woman standing before a concrete block wall. She is holding a pistol, and he has an automatic rifle and a T-shirt that reads “All gun control is racist.” There is a human connection in the scene, but also a large dose of the sort of personal politics that are frequently part of the social discourse these days.
So far, Lee has made about 30 portraits for the series, and he is not done. “This is a forever thing. Because everything that I choose to work on is a forever project,” he said.
Along with Lee’s images, CPAC has a second exhibition up. “Through Their Eyes: Personal Projects by Veterans,” showcases photos from nine Coloradans who are veterans and attended the annual workshop in 2024.
IF YOU GO
“Armed But Not Dangerous” continues through Feb. 22 at CPAC, 1200 Lincoln St. It’s free. Info: 303-837-1341 or cpacphoto.org.