Rob Welborn, New York Times, 1971:

It is not surprising that Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones) — a black artist who, having been successful in the mainstream literary world, returned to Newark, N. J., to head a black cultural center and involve himself in local politics — is at the forefront of this movement. His latest book, In Our Terribleness, in which he collaborates with photographer Fundi (Billy Abernathy), is an example of the new direction that black art is taking.

In a mid‐sixties poem, Baraka uttered a subtle and brief manifesto for the future of blacks: “to turn their evil backwards is to live.” He has also said: “We want to conjure with Black life to re‐create it for ourselves.” In Our Terribleness fulfills both those de mands. It is a poetic‐photographic essay that both re creates and defines black life for the black reader. It is an expression of soul, and soul is a kind of “terribleness” that black people have nurtured as they survived in America.

The book, with cover and interior set entirely in Pabst Oldstyle, was designed by Fundi’s wife, Laini (Sylvia Abernathy), who is best known today for here album art. See Letterform Archive’s article about Laini.

Laini (née Sylvia Abernathy) designed several record covers for Chicago-based Delmark Records in the 1960s. She is one of the few African American women of the period to be credited as a designer.

Read more about Laini in a piece by Florence Fu at Letterform Archive:

Among her album designs, the cover for Joseph Jarman’s Song For… is the most elaborate and typographic, making modern use of antique typefaces, including the Victorian-era Relievo No. 2 (1879) and Windsor Outline (1904). Futura Black and Broadway form a dizzying text frame. Unlike other albums of the time that either take on a cool, mysterious attitude with tinted monochrome photography, or a bouncy, energetic character with kinetic type, Abernathy takes a different approach. By only using contrasting colors of red and green, she produces a vibrating, psychedelic effect where their edges meet — echoed by the optically-ambiguous mirrored portrait in the center.

Laini (née Sylvia Abernathy) designed several record covers for Chicago-based Delmark Records in the 1960s. She is one of the few African American women of the period to be credited as a designer.

Read more about Laini in a piece by Florence Fu at Letterform Archive:

For the avant-garde musician Sun Ra, type takes a back seat so the illustration can shine. Abernathy abstracts a drawing of the sun into painterly swirls with rays of sunlight that beam to the edge of the frame — fitting for the artist whose stage name was coined in honor of the Egyptian God of the Sun. The glowing, orange mass against the red background reflects the surge of energy in the Afrofuturist’s synthy, cosmic sound.

A subsequent reissue (date unknown) with rotated cover artwork.

Laini (née Sylvia Abernathy) designed several record covers for Chicago-based Delmark Records in the 1960s. She is one of the few African American women of the period to be credited as a designer.

Read more about Laini in a piece by Florence Fu at Letterform Archive:

For Leon Sash’s I Remember Newport, Abernathy continues to play with contrast, but in a more subdued composition appropriate for the accordionist’s feel-good, straight-forward tunes. Abernathy simplifies the graphic of the American flag with a few stripes of red and white and a black-and-white image of Sash in place of the field of stars. The album is topped off with stacked blue type, set in a solid Playbill and an outlined Grotesque No. 9.