Introduction

During a recent call with my tutor, we discussed how my attitude to photography has changed over the first four parts of Expressing Your Vision.  I had already identified a theme running through my assignment work around ‘revelation’; starting with the history of a Yorkshire village, through human emotions and the humour in some decisive moments and on to the illumination of dark places.  My concern during the conversation was around whether my natural tendancy to ‘reveal’ was a genuine photographic voice or whether I was just being technically ‘clever’ in some way.  My question was “am I on the right track with this?” .  The conversation with my tutor was very helpful in establishing where I was in my photographic development.  Being an engineer meant that I could quickly grasp the technical aspects of photography and once I have the subject, represent it in the way the I intended.  However, my artistic voice was less prominent, but increasing in confidence throughout the course.  My tutor challenged me to think about how my experience differs from that of other professions and how easy or hard it might be for one person to do another’s job and vice versa.  If an artist could find engineering a steep learning curve, is it a surprise for the reverse to be the case?   In the final exercise of Part 4, I started to let photography be influenced by other life experience and observation, rather than ‘I think that would make an interesting photograph’.

In considering Part 5, I find myself presented with the camera as an instrument as we discussed in Part 1.  However, this time the camera captures an encounter between photographer and subject, not just as a window on a scene but a connection between the two parties.  When thinking about Alexia Clorinda’s quotation about measurement:

“I don’t pretend that I can describe the ‘other’.  The camera for me is more a meter the measures the distance between myself and the other.  It’s about the encounter between myself and the other; it’s not about the other” – Alexia Clorinda

I can relate to this in a way that I probably couldn’t before this course.  Clorinda is saying that she isn’t using the camera to describe or capture the subject, more to ‘measure’ the encounter between her and the subject.  Naturally, the use of words like ‘measure’ and ‘distance’ suggest the physical property that we can define using focus or depth of field, but the meaning here is about the relationship.  I’m reminded of the research in What Matters is to Look [1], where Aim Deulle Lu​ski was placing multi-aperture cameras in the centre of the scene he wanted to photograph.  He was trying to describe life in a unique way, by making the camera part of the scene rather than a passive viewer.  However, what wasn’t strong in his work was the connection between the artist and the scene.   I then realised that the personal connection that Clorinda refers to is often created by simply viewing.  Her work Morocco from Below [2] describes the political aftermath of the so-called Arab Spring, a period of uprising in the Middle East.  The ruling family in Morocco promised change, which was interpreted by some as a campaign to convince the rest of the world rather than help the people.  The mixture of uprising and consensus among the people was the basis for the series, which Clorinda observed by walking the streets of the major cities.  Clorinda herself describes the work as reportage, but when we look at the images, the personal connection is clearer than any narrative.  In most of the shots, there is eye contact between Clorinda and at least one of her subjects, which is a tricky prospect when taking photographs in a muslim country.  My own experiences in Morocco were that many people get angry when being photographed by a tourist as there is the belief that the image is removing their soul.  When I look at the people in Clorinda’s work, I feel the connection between them first and then gather information on context from the rest of the frame.

My initial conclusion is that photographs can describe more than what is in the frame by drawing attention to the subject in the context of the frame.  The camera is the instrument that describes the why, rather than the what in a way that is visualised by the photographer.  If you have no camera, the experience or connection remains memory which can evolve over time or change when described by the possessor.  I experienced something recently that lends itself to this theory.   While walking into town with my wife, we saw a pigeon chick walking along the pathway in front of us.  It had clearly fallen a long way from a nest above the road, but was developed enough to land on the pavement without being injured.  It walked slowly along the pavement alongside the wall that retained the hillside, clearly lost.  As it encountered each drainage hole in the wall, it peered into it to see if there was a way back to the nest.  During its walk, it repeatedly called out for help.  We watched for a couple of minutes as it made it’s lonely procession along the pathway and it was one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen.  For many years, I’ve had a powerful fear of loss so the scene playing out before me made a strong connection.  On this occasion, my instinct was to rescue the bird which is what we did; returning it to the area in the trees close to where it’s nest was. While I had a camera with me, I didn’t use it to measure the distance between us.  The memory, which is still very strong in its sadness now only exists in my wife and I and trying to describe it to others is very difficult.  The expression “you had to be there” takes on its true meaning.  Had I photographed the bird in a way that revealed our connection, that image could have provoked a response in other viewers.

My reaction to this event and Clorinda’s work prompted me to look into the role of the photographer, something that Azoulay discusses.  In her essay Unlearning Imperial Rights to Take (Photographs) [3], Azoulay describes how the initial promulgation of photography meant that parts of the world that had never encountered the medium were suddenly the subject of a photographers work.  She describes this as being akin to cheap labour.  The publications of the time were clamouring for images, regardless of the subject, context or any emotional narrative that might be at play.  The relationship between photographer and subject changed as the medium became more popular and the challenges of taking pictures that had perceived value became harder.  The photographer now found themselves as a broker or middle-man between the world and the media.  With the recent advances in social media and availability of cameras, everyone who addresses others through photographs can now become what Azoulay describes as a citizen of photography[3].  For me, the photographer has the same thoughts, feelings and emotions as their subjects so the connections made in a composition are more dynamic and frequent now than they have ever been.  Collectively, they make an image that provokes relatable and contradictory emotions in the viewer in the same way that other artists capture the imagination.  As uncomfortable as it may seem, the camera can both connect and disconnect, attract or repel the subject and viewer which is likely unnoticed when taking a selfie, but is much more important when trying to draw attention to what is an important message.

References

[1], Fletcher, R, 2019, “What Matters is to Look”, Expressing Your Vision Blog Post.

[2] Clorinda, A, 2013, “Morocco from Below”, alexia clorinda morocco from below

[3] Azoulay, A, 2018, Unlearning Imperial Rights to Take (Photographs), https://www.fotomuseum.ch/en/explore/still-searching/articles/155338_unlearning_imperial_rights_to_take_photographs