This work is a series of three photographs taken by James Presley Ball of William Biggerstaff in the year in 1896. Biggerstaff was a former slave from Lexington, Kentucky who had moved out West to Montana after gaining his freedom. In 1895, Biggerstaff was accused of murdering the African American prizefighter Dick Johnson in a quarrel over a white woman. Although Biggerstaff claimed the killing was done in self-defense he was nonetheless found guilty and hung. In this series of images, Biggerstaff is shown in life, just after his execution and in death.
The first image is a posed portrait of Biggerstaff. His head rests on his right hand and he gazes solemnly in that direction. He is dressed formally wearing a suit with a flower pinned to the lapel. The second image is gruesome and depicts Biggerstaff’s hanging body shortly after his execution. His face is covered in a mask meant to preserve his dignity in death but which only adds to the horrific nature of the image. Biggerstaff wears the same coat as in the first picture and is flanked by a Reverend, Victor Day, as well as the sheriff, Henry Jurgens. A crowd of onlookers is clearly visible in the back indicating the public nature and spectacle of Biggerstaff’s death. In the final image, Biggerstaff is shown in his casket. The angle of the image draws attention to his hand on which a wedding ring is clearly visible.
At first glance this troublesome series of images seems no different than the myriad of lynching images from this time period. Leigh Raiford describes such images as an essential component of the “reinscribing of the black body as commodity” and a mechanism that “helped extend [a unified white identity] far beyond the town, the county, the state, the South, to include whites nationwide and even internationally.” While this is certainly true of the vast majority of lynching images several features of this image complicate reading it in such a manner. The first is the presentation of the three images as opposed to a singular image of a lynched body as was the custom. Rather the photographer’s decision to use three images, including one showing Biggerstaff while he was still, creates a narrative that individualizes the work. Typical lynching images present bodies that are often unrecognizable, providing an anonymity that allows for a disassociation from the work that for white audiences at the time played into racist fantasies and for contemporary audiences makes it easier to stomach. Such dissociation is impossible with this series. By presenting Bigerstaff’s portrait side-by-side with those of his death, the photographer creates a narrative that contextualizes and brings meaning to Biggerstaff’s life as well as death. The wedding ring in the final image punctuates this narrative and again forces the viewer to think about the consequences of Biggerstaff’s death on those in his life.
The second characteristic of the photograph that disrupts a conventional reading, is not a feature inherent to the work itself but is in fact the photographer, James Presley (J.P.) Ball. Ball was born a free man in 1825 in Virginia. He learned the art of daguerreotype and quickly became extremely successful as a photographer. As one of the most successful and famous photographers of the latter half of the 20th century, Ball photographed a number of notable people including Charles Dickens, Queen Victoria, Ulysses S. Grant and Frederick Douglass. However, in addition to his famous portraits, Ball also documented the horrors of slavery as well as lynchings, publishing a pamphlet addressing the horrors of slavery from capture in Africa through the Middle Passage, ” and serving as the official photographer for the 25th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation.  In addition, Ball was one of the leaders of the movement for William Biggerstaff’s clemency.
Thus, when viewed in this light, these images necessarily take on a different meaning. If lynching images were commodify the black body for white consumption, as Raiford argues, then what does it mean that this particular set of images was taken by a photographer such as Ball? To some degree the images of Biggerstaff highlight the relevance of authorship and purpose when it comes to lynching images. Had the same set of images been taken by a white photographer for purposes more in keeping with most lynching images, they would remain part of the processes described by Raiford, lacking any notion of emancipation. At the same time, the mere fact that Ball may have intended the images to serve as a call to arms, or at the very least a powerful memorial to Biggerstaff, does not control how they would have been and continue to be interpreted. Thus, although the typical mechanisms of lynching images are unquestionably disrupted, Ball’s role and the photograph itself cannot be neatly summarized. The question then, becomes what the role of the art historian ought to be with regards to this image. Is it enough to merely draw attention to the ways in which interpretations of images are complicated by concepts of authorship, viewership, subject and object? Such an exercise seems to fall short.
 The San Francisco Call. (1896, April 8). Met Death with a Smile. The San Francisco Call, p. 1.
 Leigh Raiford, “The Consumption of Lynching Images,” p. 270. From Only Skin Deep: Changing Visions of the American Self edited by Coco Fusco and Brian Wallis.
 http://www.lonniedawkins.com/JamesPresleyBall.htm#_edn5; (The San Francisco Call, 1896)
The San Francisco Call. (1896, April 8). Met Death with a Smile. The San Francisco Call, p. 1.
 P. 246, A Spectacular Secret: Lynching in American Life and Literature by Jacqueline Goldsby. University of Chicago Press, 2006.
Also: http://www.blackpast.org/?q=aaw/ball-james-presley-1825-1904, http://xroads.virginia.edu/~ma02/amacker/photo/death.html