The essays in this special issue on slavery and the visual imagination share the peculiar characteristic of taking up the subject of slavery by appearing not to. Each analyzes artworks that are at a remove (sometimes small, at other times quite great) from the actual event of slavery. Richard Avedon's photo "William Casby, born a slave" immediately asserts its significance as evidence of the fact of slavery at a decades-wide remove from it; the effort to photograph slavery (in the British West Indies) in the wake of abolition fails singularly, of course, to do any such thing; the devotional objects of Brazil's Anastácia cult proffer memories of slavery to those who haven't experienced it; and the iconicity of Glenn Ligon's various references to slavery can represent as much an estrangement from the particulars of the slave past as an immersion in them. The direct visual record of slavery seems to be of little consequence, as does the end of the institution itself. 2 Why serious works of art-historical research into slavery would decline the opportunity to engage direct evidence of it is the open question posed by these essays as an ensemble. I believe that there is a great deal that is right about this approach.The visual archive of slavery in the Americas is both vast and iconic. Most iconic are the many images that were reproduced countless times as part of the fight for abolition, such as Josiah Wedgwood's medallion of the kneeling slave, captioned "Am I not a Man and a Brother?" (1787), the Plymouth Committee broadside representing 294 Africans packed aboard the Brookes (1788), and the McPherson & Oliver (New Orleans) photograph displaying R e p r e s e n tat i o n s 113. Winter 2011