"Bist du kein Amerikaner?"
"Niederländer."
"Cool." Es klingt wie ein Freispruch für den Ausländer.
Nach einer Weile sagt der andere Junge:
"Ihr habt doch diese Haschischcafés, oder?"
"Und Rembrandt", sagt Arkenhout.
"Jaja. Tut mir leid."
Michael Pye: Der sechste Mann
Friday, 30 January 2009
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Where do feelings come from?
I don't know this man, the father I've never lived with, but my loyalty to him is powerful and undeniable. Where do they come from, feelings like these: so strong and yet based on so little? The man, after all, is just an idea, a thought, existing before I have any experience of being his son, and yet I want to look after and defend him. I want to protect him from injustice. And I want to be looked after by him. I want him to teach me - things, everything: how to be like him. I want to be a son he is proud of. When, later, my real mother remarries while my father is still in prison, I explode with rage at the terrible unfairness of it all. I long for my parents to be together. How can she take up with another man, when her real man, her husband, my father, is still in prison …?
Hugh Collins: Hard Man
Hugh Collins: Hard Man
Monday, 26 January 2009
In the times of Photoshop
We live in the times of Photoshop. That means, among quite some other things, that photos that do not seem to look "natural" or "real" are often assumed to be photoshopped. Recently, this happened to me when I looked at the book cover of Peter Nitsch's "Bangkok" (see here). However, it was not photoshopped, as Peter Nitsch let me know. No retouching was done (and that applies to all the photos in the tome), he wrote, the photo was taken exactly as it is shown.
The problem is this: Without being told we can often not know what we are looking at for we can only see what we know, and a photo can only show what it appears to be showing. In other words, a photographer can limit unwanted readings of his pics by making it clear (in the caption, in the accompanying text) how the pictures came about.
The problem is this: Without being told we can often not know what we are looking at for we can only see what we know, and a photo can only show what it appears to be showing. In other words, a photographer can limit unwanted readings of his pics by making it clear (in the caption, in the accompanying text) how the pictures came about.
Saturday, 24 January 2009
One Step Beyond
Some time ago, when reviewing a tome called "Photo Art" (that left me with rather mixed feelings), I came across the German photographer Lukas Einsele whose work on the victims of landmines (http://www.one-step-beyond.de/) impressed me. Here is how he introduces his project:
"One Step Beyond - The Mine Revisited (OSB) is an artistic project that tells of landmines and of landmine survivors and their visible and obvious relationship to one another.
People who have been injured by landmines recall their experiences for OSB and describe the course of events surrounding their accidents. Some of them have made drawings of the places where their accidents occurred.
Following our conversations, I took portrait photographs of them with a large-format camera, and in exchange for their accounts they were given a Polaroid version of the portrait."
The first portrait shows Celestina Hashihali, a 35-year-old mother of five from Cangumbe, Angola, who lost her right lower leg on 27 September 2000. What the picture shows is her face, you can't see her body. By the way, a portrait does not necessarily mean an image of a face or a head, it can also show a full body - as I was once taught at a photo exhibition in Merced, California.
The incredibly powerful photo of Celestina's face, together with her story, touched me deeply.
The night before she stepped on the mine, she had a dream "... a corpse was brought to me on a stretcher. I saw how afraid I was, and how I tried to run away from the dead. I woke up and was deeply shocked ... we walked towards the village, then I was lifted into the air - whooo! And I was dashed down - shocking! Then I was baffled when I looked down at my leg - my foot was missing!
Then I said, 'Eeeh, that's why I dreamt about a dead pregnant woman, whose innards were hanging out to here. I was dreaming about myself.' The others were upset that I hadn't said anything earlier. They said, 'If you had told us that, we would have forced you to stay at home and saved your life.'"
One could have hardly thought of a more telling portrait to introduce this moving and impressive tome.
Lukas Einsele: One Step Beyond, Hatje Cantz, Stuttgart
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Bangkok, Thailand
There are many ways of getting to know a city. Or, to be a bit more precise, to experience some parts of a city, especially a city of the size of Bangkok, for instance. The German Wikipedia speaks of a population of 6,859 millions (2006), a presumably more accurate number provides the English Wikipedia: "... approximately 8,160,522 registered residents (July 2007), but due to large unregistered influxes of migrants from the North East of Thailand and of many nations across Asia, the population of greater Bangkok is estimated at nearly 15 million people."
Although I spent - from 1988 to 1998 - many months in Bangkok, and explored many parts of the city, the only area that I'm somewhat familiar with is the lower Sukhumvit. Given all the changes that have meanwhile taken place (I was last there in 2007), I'm however not really sure that I would still recognise "my Bangkok".
Recently, I came across two photo books that I thought would refresh my memory: Thailand. Same same but different by Thomas Kalak, and Bangkok by Peter Nitsch. Both were published by Rupa Publishing in Munich.
The photos in Thailand. Same same but different, despite the book title, were, according to the preface, all taken in "Bangkok's streets and backyards" and they do give indeed, as Remo Masala states, "the impression of sculptures and installations". Not all of them, no, but quite some. Thomas Kalak has a good eye for the odd and sometimes bizarre: several big green umbrellas, assisted by a much smaller one in violet and gold, for instance, that cover the entrance of a drugstore against the rain and/or the sun is a wonderful find as is the sign in the shape of a tooth that indicates a dental clinic. And, there are many more. Needless to say, most visitors to Bangkok come across such sights but give them hardly more than a passing look, Thomas Kalak however collected them. Are these shots worth a book? No idea, really, but I thought it an interesting project.
Bangkok by Peter Nitsch is a very different kind of book although the two tomes have one thing in common: both come with an accompanying text by Jochen Müssig that has nothing to do with the photos. To be fair: the last paragraph of Bangkok (the text as a whole provides interesting infos) attempts to link the words to the photos but does it so cliché-ridden ... "he captures brief, unique moments" (well, moments are by definition brief, and they are also by definition unique) ... that I could have easily done without them.
So what about the photos? Some I thought excellent - the woman on her knees handing over food to the monks whose heads are invisible (but why call this shot "Lumphini Park"? A thoroughly superfluous information), the elegantly composed shots of the Marble Temple at Wat Benchamabophit, and of Wat Phra Kaeo, for instance; others were not exactly to my liking - the book cover in particular, a brightly lit skytrain station with even more brightly lit streets below (an over-use of photoshop, it seems) that could be just about anywhere. There were however also some that I would love to put under glass, and into a frame, and hang them on my wall. The shot from Soi Thong Lo that shows a casually dressed young woman going in one direction and an elegantly dressed young woman on the moving stairway above going in the other, or the black and white composition of a building front with a man looking down from one of the upper floors, or the look of the young man on the red bus on Thanon Ratchawithi. Very well captured moments, I'd say.
Although I spent - from 1988 to 1998 - many months in Bangkok, and explored many parts of the city, the only area that I'm somewhat familiar with is the lower Sukhumvit. Given all the changes that have meanwhile taken place (I was last there in 2007), I'm however not really sure that I would still recognise "my Bangkok".
Recently, I came across two photo books that I thought would refresh my memory: Thailand. Same same but different by Thomas Kalak, and Bangkok by Peter Nitsch. Both were published by Rupa Publishing in Munich.
The photos in Thailand. Same same but different, despite the book title, were, according to the preface, all taken in "Bangkok's streets and backyards" and they do give indeed, as Remo Masala states, "the impression of sculptures and installations". Not all of them, no, but quite some. Thomas Kalak has a good eye for the odd and sometimes bizarre: several big green umbrellas, assisted by a much smaller one in violet and gold, for instance, that cover the entrance of a drugstore against the rain and/or the sun is a wonderful find as is the sign in the shape of a tooth that indicates a dental clinic. And, there are many more. Needless to say, most visitors to Bangkok come across such sights but give them hardly more than a passing look, Thomas Kalak however collected them. Are these shots worth a book? No idea, really, but I thought it an interesting project.
Bangkok by Peter Nitsch is a very different kind of book although the two tomes have one thing in common: both come with an accompanying text by Jochen Müssig that has nothing to do with the photos. To be fair: the last paragraph of Bangkok (the text as a whole provides interesting infos) attempts to link the words to the photos but does it so cliché-ridden ... "he captures brief, unique moments" (well, moments are by definition brief, and they are also by definition unique) ... that I could have easily done without them.
So what about the photos? Some I thought excellent - the woman on her knees handing over food to the monks whose heads are invisible (but why call this shot "Lumphini Park"? A thoroughly superfluous information), the elegantly composed shots of the Marble Temple at Wat Benchamabophit, and of Wat Phra Kaeo, for instance; others were not exactly to my liking - the book cover in particular, a brightly lit skytrain station with even more brightly lit streets below (an over-use of photoshop, it seems) that could be just about anywhere. There were however also some that I would love to put under glass, and into a frame, and hang them on my wall. The shot from Soi Thong Lo that shows a casually dressed young woman going in one direction and an elegantly dressed young woman on the moving stairway above going in the other, or the black and white composition of a building front with a man looking down from one of the upper floors, or the look of the young man on the red bus on Thanon Ratchawithi. Very well captured moments, I'd say.
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Cultural time (2)
I had a good laugh when I read how Lícia, who teaches in Brazil's Northeast, reacted to the concept of cultural time that I described in my last post. Not only that the kids in her school are usually some minutes late, she wrote, and that there are parents who want to pick them up a few minutes before the class is over, but also this: ten minutes before the class ends, the school secretary comes to her classroom to remind her that the lesson should soon come to an end!
My impression is that where time really matters, be it because of a medical emergency, be it because a lot of money is at stake, cultural time differences are not an issue. They only appear to come into play when people deem an activity unimportant, uninteresting, and/or superfluous.
My impression is that where time really matters, be it because of a medical emergency, be it because a lot of money is at stake, cultural time differences are not an issue. They only appear to come into play when people deem an activity unimportant, uninteresting, and/or superfluous.
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Cultural time
To be sure, time does not really exist, except in our minds. It is one of the tools that help us organise our lives on this planet. And, like most of the tools that human beings employ in order to not get lost, the concept of tîme has been turned into a lucrative business by some ... watchmakers, for instance.
We all know that the concept of time is understood differently around the globe. I used to believe that people in warmer climates do not know what time is. Swiss time, I mean. Now imagine my surprise when one day in Santa Cruz do Sul, where I was teaching, I found the school door locked at three minutes past twelve. Okay, I did know that the school was officially closed from twelve to one but ... I simply assumed that Brazilans would not adhere to my rigid notion of time. I asked Ricardo, the school owner and always a valuable source when I needed Brazilian things explained: Well, he said, Brazilians might not be on time when coming to school but they are always on time when leaving.
Tracy Novinger, in her recommendable Intercultural Communication: A Practical Guide (University of Texas Press, Austin 2001), demonstrates how to deal with cultural time - by taking things lightly, and with a smile, that is. Here's one of her wonderful examples:
"In the end, one should maintain a sense of cultural relativity, as well as a sense of humor. As one story goes, an Arab discussing cultural differences with a Mexican friend asked about the meaning of the expression mañana. On hearing the explanation, he nodded in understanding and replied, 'That is like the Arab bukara, but bukara does not have the same sense of urgency.'"
We all know that the concept of time is understood differently around the globe. I used to believe that people in warmer climates do not know what time is. Swiss time, I mean. Now imagine my surprise when one day in Santa Cruz do Sul, where I was teaching, I found the school door locked at three minutes past twelve. Okay, I did know that the school was officially closed from twelve to one but ... I simply assumed that Brazilans would not adhere to my rigid notion of time. I asked Ricardo, the school owner and always a valuable source when I needed Brazilian things explained: Well, he said, Brazilians might not be on time when coming to school but they are always on time when leaving.
Tracy Novinger, in her recommendable Intercultural Communication: A Practical Guide (University of Texas Press, Austin 2001), demonstrates how to deal with cultural time - by taking things lightly, and with a smile, that is. Here's one of her wonderful examples:
"In the end, one should maintain a sense of cultural relativity, as well as a sense of humor. As one story goes, an Arab discussing cultural differences with a Mexican friend asked about the meaning of the expression mañana. On hearing the explanation, he nodded in understanding and replied, 'That is like the Arab bukara, but bukara does not have the same sense of urgency.'"
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