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IT'S BEEN SAID that she could contort her body in shocking ways. That when she walked or even waddled onto a stage, audiences were captivated.
She was born Freda MacDonald in St. Louis to parents Carrie MacDonald and Eddie Carson. She was a civil rights activist and she served France during World War II. She was a dancer, a comedian, an actress, a mother of 12 adopted children of differing nationalities who she called her "Rainbow Tribe," and an international star. She was Josephine Baker.
And to observe the 100th anniversary of her birth, the National Portrait Gallery honors her life and achievements with " Josephine Baker: Image and Icon."
Opening Friday, this celebration of Baker's contributions to everyday American life visits our nation's capital from her hometown, where it was organized by the Sheldon Art Galleries. Consisting of nearly a hundred pieces chosen from numerous collections, "Image and Icon" explores Baker's desire to transform her public persona.
The young Freda's life was plagued by contradictions. After being abandoned by her parents, she was brought up by a grandmother and an aunt who took her in only because her light skin provided much-welcomed evidence of her Indian heritage. Born into poverty, she spent much of her youth cleaning and baby-sitting in the homes of wealthy white families. Soon, these mounting paradoxes proved too much, and at the age of 13 Freda ran away to join a traveling road show.
Around the same time, the teenager also took a job waiting tables, through which she met Willie Wells, who she was married to briefly. And while it was uncommon for a woman during her time, she remained financially independent and, thus, never hesitated to divorce and remarry again — which she did three more times. Her second marriage to Willie Baker, whose name she decided to keep, gave Freda and the world her alter ego.
This is when "Image and Icon" enters the story of Baker's life. She went on to become a somewhat
overnight success in Paris. A corridor filled mostly with posters, prints and sketches by French graphic artist Paul Colin — who helped cement Baker's image — anchors the exhibition halls on either side of it and seems a mini-tribute to Colin's artistic talents as much as to Baker.
From there, the exhibit takes you chronologically through Baker's modes with ephemera (music sheets and programs) and photographs — some blown up to ooh-and-aah sizes one could easily stare at for hours. The more candid photos document her wartime service and provide an honest and satiating glimpse of the woman who seemed to fear nothing except, of course, the usual.
National Portrait Gallery, 8th and G streets NW; through March 18; 202-633-1000. (Gallery Place-Chinatown)
Image courtesy National Portrait Gallery.
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