Wednesday 31 January 2024

On Prop-agenda

On 19 August 2007, the International Herald Tribune (the online version) published a short piece about a fire in the vacant (since 9/11) Deutsche Bank building at ground zero in New York City. The piece started like this:

"People looked up, as they did that day in September, in awe and in horror. They clustered in goupd, holding cellphones to their ears and cameras to their eyes as a plume of smoke hovered over Lower Manhattan once again.

The multiple-alarm fire broke out Saturday in the vacant Deutsche Bank skyscraper at ground zero, killing two firefighters and injuring at least five others in the relic of the Sept. 11 attacks that was being dismantled.

It was more than the sight that reminded some of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks nearly six years ago. It was the sounds and the smell: breaking glass clanking its way down a burning skyscraper, a helicopter's whir somewhere above, an acrid, noxious scent filling the streets.”

Smoke rises from the Deutsche Bank Building, 
bordering ground zero in New York 
Copyright@David Borkman/AP

Some people were reminded of 9/11? That is understandable, of course, not least given the location of the Deutsche Bank building near ground zero. Yet to allude to it as excessively as these first few paragraphs does seem not only odd but clearly unnecessary. After all: this event had absolutely nothing to do with 9/11. So why repeatedly mention it? Anybody’s reminded of the repeated attempts of the Bush administration – sorry, of the Bush government [these people do clearly not administer, they do govern] – to link the attacks on the Twin Towers to Iraq? Needless to say it is – I’m not always sure though – somewhat unlikely that the political agenda of the International Herald Tribune and of the Bush government should be the same. So, what about money? The magic-formula 9/11, after all, will surely sell copies.

By the way, this is a useful reminder: “In addition to increasing government spending after 9/11, Bush asked Americans to go shopping, and they did -- bringing an economy shattered by the attacks back to full speed within a few years” reported CNN on 11 September 2006 (“9/11 trauma persists five years later”).

***

It wasn’t so much the article that had caught my attention, it was a photo (a slide show with nine shots could be found on the website) by Josh Haner/The New York Time that showed a man holding the American flag. Its caption read: Paul Isaac of Brooklyn, an auxiliary firefighter who worked on 9/11, holds a flag in support of those at the scene.

Copyright@Josh Haner/The New York Times

To read photographs is personal, and inevitably so. Such reading depends on one's upbringing, culture, interests, gender, preferences as well as dislikes; it is also subjected to one's moods. Being Swiss, I’ve never really understood (emotionally, that is) the North American love for the flag (this love exists in all cultures, I know, but the man in this picture holds an American flag and it is to this picture I’m here referring to) and so it was with utter incomprehension that I looked at this photo.

Why would a flag, in this situation, symbolize support? Not that I doubt that this man thinks that it does, and not that I doubt that quite some people will interpret this picture this way. Although, to hold a flag when a fire breaks out does seem quite a stretch, doesn’t it? But that is actually not my concern here, my concern here is that such a photo is published in the context of a blaze that so far seems just an ordinary blaze. In other words, a picture that seems to symbolize resolve in the face of an attack on the sovereignty of a nation does not at all belong into this context.

But, hey, you might say, this man meant to hold his flag in this context, he meant to show support, and it is not up to you to tell him what to do or how to do it. The photojournalist’s task is to record pictures of what happens. That’s it. Quite. But to show this photo accompanying an article that uses the magic formula 9/11 so often that one comes away with thinking about 9/11 and not about an ordinary fire is not only misleading, it is irresponsible.

Monday’s (20 August 2007) New York Times again evoked 9/11. One of headlines on the front page read: “Scarred on 9/11, a Firehouse Mourns Again.” Not only the government of G.W. Bush is profiting from deliberately made up 9/11 connections, the mass media (the headline of the blaze article of the Los Angeles Times on Sunday, 19 August 2007 read: “Manhattan blaze recalls 9/11”) is doing exactly the same.

Well, if one can benefit.

***

The issue here is a bit bigger than that of showing pictures in context while at the same time providing us with adequate information so that we can understand what we are looking at, the issue here is prop-agenda, as the British musician Brian Eno once put it. By this he means the kind of propaganda that hardly ever gets mentioned.

"Its greatest triumph is," Brian Eno wrote in an article for The Observer (that was in 2004), "that we generally don't notice it — or laugh at the notion it even exists. We watch the democratic process taking place — heated debates in which we feel we could have a voice — and think that, because we have "free" media, it would be hard for the Government to get away with anything very devious without someone calling them on it. ... It isn't just propaganda any more, it's "prop-agenda." It's not so much the control of what we think, but the control of what we think about."

Needless to say, this control is as much exercised by the media as it is by governments.

Wednesday 24 January 2024

Fixer of Hearts

 … Sukey Waller, the psychologist at Merced Community Outreach Services … “A sort of hippie-ish revolutionary” … told me: “Here’s my phone number. If you get my answering machine, you will find I speak so slowly it sounds as if I’m in the middle of a terrible depression or on drugs. Please don’t be alarmed. It’s just that I get a lot of calls from clients who can’t understand fast English.” Sukey’s business card reads, in Hmong and Lao, “Fixer of Hearts.” She explained to me, “Psychological problems do not exist for the Hmong, because they do not distinguish between mental and physical illness. Everything is a spiritual problem. It’s not really possible to translate what I do into Hmong – a shaman is the closest person to a psychotherapist – but fixing hearts was the best metaphor I could find. The only danger is that they might think I do open-heart surgery. That would certainly make them run in the other direction.”

*****

Sukey quickly disabused me of two notions. One was that it was necessary to walk a razor’s edge of proper etiquette on either side of which lay catastrophe. She said matter-of-factly: “I’ve made a million errors. When I came here everyone said you can’t touch people on the head, you can’t talk to a man you can’t do this, you can’t do that, and I finally said, this is crazy! I can’t be restricted like that! So I just threw it all out. Now I have only one rule. Before I do anything I ask, Is it okay? Because I’m an American woman and they don’t expect me to act like a Hmong anyway, they usually give me plenty of leeway.”

She also punctured my burgeoning longing for an American interpreter. For one thing, she informed me that even though there were thousands of Hmong living in Merced, not a single American in town spoke Hmong. For another, in her opinion, someone who merely converted Hmong words into English, however accurately, would be of no help to me whatsoever. “I don’t call my staff interpreters.” She told me. “I call them cultural brokers. They teach me. When I don’t know what to do, I ask them. You should go find yourself a cultural broker.”

****

When I asked Sukey why the Hmong community accepted her so readily, she said, “The Hmong and I have a lot in common. I have an anarchist sub-personality. I don’t like coercion. I also believe that the long way around is often the shortest way from point A to point B. And I’m not very interested in what is generally called the truth. In my opinion, consensual reality is better than facts.”

Anne Fadiman: The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down

Wednesday 17 January 2024

In Porto

5 April 2022

My first impression of Porto: Birds. I spotted them pretty much everywhere during my few days in town. I'm fascinated by the way they walk, and even more fascinated by their elegant flight. And, I felt reminded of the observation that feathered beings can't be caressed (I believe to have come across this observation in Pauline Melville's  wonderful and highly recommendable "The Ventriloquist's Tale").
6 April 2022

I have no idea why I photograph what I photograph, it always seems to happen on a whim. What I deem important is the frame, and the composition. To me, photos are primarily reminders of where I've been, and of what happened after the picture was taken – I had a cappuccino in a nearby street cafe from where I watched a middle-aged woman practising dancing steps on the side of the street while listening to instructions via her earphones.
7 April 2022

The birds sat only for a few minutes on the roof before they ventured out for another round that eventually brought them back to the above roof. I can still hear them flapping their wings.

Wednesday 10 January 2024

Steve McCurry. Devotion - Hingabe

Sein Spitzname lautet Steamroller-Steve, die Dampfwalze. Weil er immer unterwegs ist, in Bewegung, auf Reisen, rastlos auf der Suche nach besonderen Details und Stimmungen. Er pirscht herum, beobachtet, bleibt abrupt stehen, hebt die Kamera, um ein perfektes Motiv einzufangen, das andere vielleicht gar nicht bemerkt hätten“, lese ich in einem Artikel in der Welt aus dem Jahre 2020.

Steve McCurrys Aufnahmen sind ein ästhetischer Genuss. Da er auch in Kriegsgebieten fotografiert hat, wird ihm manchmal vorgeworfen, ein romantisches Bild des Krieges zu vermitteln. Er sagt: „Ich versuche nie zu romantisieren. Mein Ziel ist es nicht, etwas schöner zu machen. Mein Ziel ist es, eine Geschichte zu erzählen – so genau und objektiv, wie möglich.“

Ich kann es nicht mehr hören, diesen „Fotos erzählen Geschichten“-Schmarren. Fotos erzählen keine Geschichten, sie können es nicht. Sie machen genau das Gegenteil: Sie zeigen ein Stück einer Geschichte, ohne Kontext. Wird ihnen kein Begleittext beigegeben, weiss man häufig nicht, was man vor Augen hat.
Mönche auf der Dammstrasse zum Eingang von Angkor Wat, 
Kambodscha, 1999

Dankenswerterweise ist den Bildern im vorliegenden Band eine Bildlegende beigegeben. Wir haben also eine Vorstellung, wenn auch eine sehr rudimentäre, was wir vor Augen haben. Das, was wir von Steve McCurry gewohnt sind: Sehr schöne, wunderbar farbige Lebensausschnitte. So wie er sie vorgefunden hat. „Ich dirigiere nicht, mache keine Ansagen, wie Menschen sich bewegen oder platzieren sollen. Ich nehme nur, was mir angeboten wird und was für eine Chemie entsteht“, sagte er 2015 dem Spiegel.

Die Sujets sind ganz unterschiedlich; hier einige ganz willkürlich ausgewählte: Kutschi-Nomaden beim Abengebet, Kandahar, Afghanistan; In einem Krankenhaus wird ein frühgeborenes Kind behandelt, Jaipur, Indien; Kriegsveteranen besuchen den US-Friedhof, Manila, Philippinen; Junge Schüler der Shaolin-Kampfkunstschule Tagou, Zhengzhou, China; Eine Frau legt die Beichte ab, Medjugorje, Bosnien-Herzegowina (Jugoslawien); Ein Team sucht nach Landminen, Kandahar, Afghanistan; Menschenmassen beim Kumbh-Mela-Fest, Prayagrau (früher Allahbad), Indien.

Vielfältiger geht kaum; mangelnde Diversifikation kann man dem Mann wirklich nicht vorwerfen. 

Mutter und Tochter auf ihrem Balkon in Beirut, 
Libanon, 1982

Texte gibt es in diesem Band kaum. Und die, die es gibt – inklusive des Vorworts von Pico Iyer –  könnten kürzer kaum sein. Sie alle weisen auf verschiedene Aspekte der Hingabe hin. Ich selber assoziiere damit etwas Kontemplatives und empfinde das Betrachten dieser Fotos als eine Einladung zum ruhigen Verweilen.

Die Bilder in Hingabe entstanden auf vielen Reisen. Auch wenn man Hingabe, wie Steve McCurry dies tut, sehr weit versteht – so kann sie sich in einer Geste, einem Blick zeigen – , bei nicht wenigen Aufnahmen hatte ich den Eindruck, sie hätten nichts mit Hingabe zu tun. Was natürlich auch daran liegt, dass ein Teil der hier versammelten Fotos bereits in anderen Büchern von McCurry zu sehen gewesen ist, was den Eindruck einer Wiederverwertung unter einem verkaufsträchtigen Titel nahelegt.

Ein älteres Ehepaar kehrt nach der Arbeit auf dem Feld nach Haus zurück, 
Gostivar, Mazedonien, ehemaliges Jugoslawien

Nichtsdestotrotz: Viele der überaus gelungenen Aufnahmen regen an, sich mit der Vorstellung von Hingabe auseinanderzusetzen, die Pico Iyer als universelle, demütigende Sehnsucht charakterisiert, „uns vor dem, was wir lieben, zu verneigen und es in den Armen zu wiegen.“

Steve McCurry
Devotion. Hingabe
Prestel Verlag, München 2023

Wednesday 3 January 2024

"Take pictures, show the world that our children are dying!"

"—Tell the world, the man had said in broken English as he pushed me through the door. — Take pictures, show the world that our children are dying!

I take out my camera and look questioningly at the three women. They nod.

The women lay a transparent plastic sheet around Fatima, they wrap her in white cloth. It is rolled around her several times before being knotted at both ends. They cut holes for her eyes and mouth.

On the floor there is a coffin; her mother Hasina is already lying in it. One of the woman recounts what happened. — They were on the way to the market and happened to be where the missile hit. Hasina had eleven children; she leaves ten behind.

Fatima is lowered into the coffin beside her mother. Washed clean — on her way to Paradise. Outside the cubicle two of her brothers cry."

***

The Norwegian journalist Asne Seierstad, from whose book A Hundred and One Days. A Baghdad Journal (London: Virago, 2004) this quote stems, offered Fatima's picture to Aftenposten and to The New York Review of Books. Both declined to print it. "A dead child's face is too strong an image for the international press," she comments.

We all know that, apart from military and government censors, editors and photo-editors decide what we are getting to see, and what not. It is rare that photos which they deem too upsetting (severed limbs, for example) make it into mass media publications. But when they do one often wonders why, apart from the photographers who shot them, only editors and photo-editors should be entitled to see such images. Surely not because of ethical concerns for, in times when there seems to exist no other value indicator than profit, ethics in journalism translates into a very simple question: is there a real danger that we will be sued (and that we will probably loose a lot of money) when we print these pictures?

From time to time we get to see pictures that — had it been up to the censors (military, government or mass media; they however do not always work hand in hand) — we shouldn't have seen. The Abu Ghraib-photos, for instance, or, more recently, the ones showing German soldiers with an unearthed skull in Afghanistan. So, everything is fine then, for isn't this proof that censorship doesn't really work, that "the truth" always comes out?

Well, what pictures show is one thing, what they do not show quite another. Which is why we need to see as many uncensored photos as possible and, when looking at them, we need not to forget to ask: what happened off-camera? And: what happened when the camera was not there? For when we so reflect, we make photos do what they are capable of doing: to tell us more than the famous thousand words.

Hans Durrer, 2006