This is an unusual post for me. It’s old, first of all – I wrote it in my personal journal, on actual paper, about six years ago, while on a work trip to a country I’m not going to name here. It’s moodier than I tend to be now. And it kind of reminds me of something that would be on Tales from the Hood, not Blood and Milk. But I still agree with it, so I thought I’d post.
In Uzbekistan I never really felt like taking pictures when I drove through rural areas. Uzbek villages are made of corrugated pre-fab boxes, no matter how small they here. The houses and barns all look the same, too, with their pale cement walls. This isn’t like that. Houses and barns are different shapes and sizes and materials and colors. And, as I looked at them, I realized why.
Here, it’s poor. Considerably poorer than Uzbekistan. That’s why there are thatched roofs and unusual buildings, why you can see cows grazing next to lean-to’s and buildings painted thirteen different colors.
And the poverty makes for great photography. Poverty has texture. Clean modern buildings give you a feeling of smoothness – they’re bland and unremarkable and rarely worth the film. The homes of the poor have none of that. Each one is unique, based on what people could afford and what they could find. They’re full of color, they’re rough, and there is nothing bland about them.
In other words, a good synonym for picturesque is desperate.
Aesthetics are seductive. It is hard not to like something because it’s pretty. That can lead you all sorts of terrible places; it can lead you to mistake tragedy for authenticity. It can make you think there is some value to authenticity when people are starving. It can lead you to take gorgeous pictures of the countryside without ever realizing that you are documenting a quiet horror.
[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Mission MANNA, Alanna Shaikh. Alanna Shaikh said: New Blood and Milk post: Beautiful Poverty http://bloodandmilk.org/?p=1656 […]
Outstanding post, Alanna. “Beautiful” and “horrible” overlap more than we think.
[…] but one of hundreds) we too often let ourselves off the hook from having to think through the quiet horror of poverty and the messiness and complexity of what keeps it in place, and the difficult road ahead […]
[…] take a look at the source for a taste of what it is to be an outsider in the world of the […]
I’m a photographer as well as an aid worker, and have often used my skills to support reports etc (the old ‘one picture is worth one thousand words’), but I still remember the first time I went on a field trip in Colombia. We were visiting some internally displaced by the ongoing conflict that had been receiving food rations. Out of land and with no money they had set up makeshift homes over a swamp. On stilts and connected by old pieces of wood. From a photographer’s point of view it was heaven.
I still remember the shock that evening, realizing how blind I had been to the misery behind this beauty. I felt so guilty, to say the least.
The irony is people keep saying that what they like about my photos is that I make everyone beautiful. That I don’t portray the poor as “poor” but humanize them and show them as people, beautiful children, beautiful women subjects and not objects of the photo.
My only rule now is respect. I never take an unwelcome picture, I try to engage, I try to treat every subject how I would like to be treated.
I always wonder about photographers and if they have at least compensated their “poor” subjects or asked their permission when they snap those “great poverty” shots which lead them to award-winning images of poverty splattered all over the world and acclaimed by their peers…
I just saw an incredible exhibit of photos last night. (World Press Photo Exhibit). But it raised a lot of questions about photographing. Beauty and tragedy. What is it about human nature that makes us so drawn into tragedy? And why are photos so much more powerful than films of the same topics? This exhibit was shocking. Photos of buried dead children in Palestine. A man being stoned to death in Somalia. It left me thinking and feeling for sure.
Nice thoughts, but unless I’m reading things incorrectly, the country you say you’re “not going to name here” is pretty clearly named right there in the third sentence of the item.
Also, I’d be careful not to equate poverty with misery … they often go together, but they are most emphatically not the same thing.
Nate – thanks for catching that. I considered using Turkmenistan as a proxy for the actual country and reconsidered in my final draft. Apparently not entirely successfully.
You’re right that poverty and misery are not synonyms. But poverty is certainly a cause of misery.
Never felt entirely comfortable taking pictures of desperately poor people I haven’t properly met. But chatting to people a short time usually wipes any worries. Most people have wanted their photo taken and I always try to get prints sent out to them.
But then, I’ve always worked on local projects and a lot of the people in my photos have been children I’ve worked with or people I count as my friends. The photos usually show them at their best – painting their new school, stood in front of their new vegetable stall, playing football, or just smiling.
I certainly don’t set out to take poverty porn images, though sometimes I will snap something desperately sad.
It must be much harder for, say, a journalist passing through, to justify the images they want to use.
Alanna,
I just wanted to give you a head’s up that I quoted your unusually beautiful and vulnerable reflection on my latest post, “Poverty Tourism: A Debate in Need of Typological Nuance.” I thought it articulated well the menacing seduction of poverty aesthetics. (The link to my post is here: http://bit.ly/cNe6Hn)
I was thinking about this the other day while I was out riding in the beautiful Amish countryside of Lancaster County, PA and came to a different conclusion.
Generally, I don’t think modern life is very beautiful. Modernity tries to erase the organic and smooth over rough spots when it is those rough spots, the natural and organic, that we tend to see beauty in.
Most of us use our wealth to anesthetize ourselves to difficulty. We want what is easy to manage, not what is beautiful, so we end up living in ugly modern apartment buildings rather than in the organic, but high maintenance, thatched roof homes.
This understanding does not necessarily mean that poverty is noble and to be desired but it can help us get away from the thinking that wealth and modernism are noble and desirable.
Poverty isn’t a problem that can be solved by throwing money at it just as ugly apartment buildings aren’t a problem that can be solved with a coat of paint.
[…] though. It’s worth examining why orphanages are a bad idea most of the time, or the way grinding poverty gets mistaken for authenticity. It’s worth asking questions about well-intended schemes to free people from human slavery or […]
I like the reflective mood of this blog. It reminds me of the romanticism we often add to the basic elements of being. Some of these elements are truly wonderful, but others (as you point out) are not so wonderful when you scratch the surface – they make life difficult! I think we need to make a distinction between things that make life difficult, unbearable and dangerous, and other things that make our lives challenging but fulfilling/ content.