Brian Cross’s “Ghostnotes” is small for a photo book, about the size of a modest stack of seven-inch singles. Since the mid-nineties, Brian Cross, better known as B+, has been well known among people who scrutinize hip-hop album sleeves and music magazines. There’s a kind of humble gaze to his work. He’s not trying to demystify the star’s majesty, just remind us of the larger worlds, communities, and traditions that make stardom possible. A young Mos Def walks along the Hudson River at sunset, the Twin Towers glowing and ominous in the distance. Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys looks out from inside his house, his vacant expression seeming to fade into the trees and clouds reflecting in the window. My favorite B+ photo has always been one taken of the Los Angeles rappers Aceyalone, Myka 9, Ganjah K, and Volume 10, standing in a semicircle. They regard each other with a mix of envy and wonder. Volume 10 holds the microphone, his mouth agape and eyes bugging out, as though even he can’t believe the words flying out of his mouth.
