hammond, joyce photography and ambivalence

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Visual Studies, Vol. 19, No. 2, Oc tober 2004

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Photography and ambivalence

137

Interestingly, it is on the cover of her earlier book,

Veiled Sentiments,

that Abu-Lughod conforms to the

preferences of her consultants. The picture is of an

older woman and a girl, identified by caption within

the text as 'An independent old woman with her niece'.

The two stand erect and in frontal pose to the camera.

Their solemn expressions and embellished clothes

suggest that this would, by their standards, be

considered a desirable photograph.

In many ways cover images, available to the view of any

passerby, embody some of the most important issues

facing anthropologists who use still photography in

their work. Four issues of representation especially

resonate for anthropologists/photographers who wish

to rethink their positions vis-a-vis those among whom

they work.

A primary issue, as suggested earlier in this essay,

centres on gaining permission of those who are

photographed. Coming from societies in which laws

protect people who wish to pho tograph others in public

contexts, many anthropologists have not considered the

ethics of creating images of others in different cultu ral

contexts. This is complicated by the historical precedent

of anthropologists gathering data to increase knowledge

for knowledge's sake. Anthropologists historically did

not find it necessary to ask permission to photograph

'their' subjects. Indeed, many subjects of early

anthropological work were unfamiliar with the

workings of cameras or were intrigued with the

equipment and expressly requested that they be

photographed. However, as the power inequalities of

researchers and many of their subjects began to be

seriously examined in the 1960s, the question of gaining

express permission came to the fore for those

anthropologists who began to examine personal ethical

decisions within their relationships to others.

Another ethical set of concerns revolves around the way

in which images and captions may objectify people, an

outcome that usually goes unacknowledged and is

frequently tied to unexamined conventions of past

anthropological imaging. In older anthropological

works, photographic conventions of distancing and

exotification were frequently employed, even if

unconsciously, as a means to support the

anthropological textual analyses that revolved around

difference. Depicted in their most distinctively non-

western clothing, sometimes pictured engaged in an

activity unfamiliar to the potential viewer, at other

the past were frequently cast as racial or ethnic types.

Captions reinforced the photographic visual codes and

rarely mentioned a person's name in lieu of

demographic trait information such as 'a racial type' or

'a Maasai elder'. Sometimes exotic or nostalgic western

epithets were used in captions, such as 'a village

beauty'.

The question of anonymity of anthropological subjects

is at the centre of one form of ambivalence with which

some anthropologists struggle. In keeping with past

ethical practices of protecting subjects' identities, an

anthropologist may elect to conceal a person's identity

either through refraining from photographing someone,

photographing the person in a manner that makes it

difficult to identify him or her, or by employing a

pseudonym or deliberately omitting a person's name. A

decision not to include a person's name, however, may

recreate the distanced effect of using generic captions

associated with less sensitive historical precedents. In

keeping with current ethical guidelines to allow people

to make their identities known if they wish or hidden if

they choose, anthropologists may now feel obliged to

engage in dialogue with photographed subjects to

determine their subjects' wishes on naming practices.

Inclusion of personal names may detract from

anthropologists' motivations for creating an image, as

for example, if an image is meant to document typical

proxemic behavior or representative hair treatment. It

may also prove difficult to collect or display all the

names of a large group of people who are subjects of a

photograph.

Yet another ethical issue centres on the way in which

photographs may provide visibility for people in a

manner that parallels the feminist concept of voice. For

marginalized people especially, a photographic presence

may serve as an important political statement of their

existence and significance. The anthropologist/

photographer may collaborate with subjects to ensure

that they

are

represented and represented as they wish.

Behar's cover of

Translated Woman

provides a case

study for a number of the issues discussed above. The

cover is a photograph Behar took of 'Esperanza', the

'translated woman' who is the focus of the book. While,

on the one hand, Esperanza's true identity is concealed

through a pseudonym (and in reading the book one

comes to understand the necessity for protection of this

kind),

on the other hand, her identity is displayed

through her picture. This contradiction, remarked upon


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image's construction that Esperanza agreed to the

photographic portrait. However, whether she also

agreed to her image being used as the cover of the book

cannot be ascertained from the image.

Standing in front of a stonewaif Esperanza directs her

attention to Behar and her camera for a fuU, frontal

image. Next to Esperanza is a photographic portrait of

Pancho Villa, the famous Mexican hero to whom

Esperanza expresses aUegiance, The subject position

that Behar guarantees to Esperanza through the

collaborative creation of the image is supported by a

strong inference within the book that it was Esperanza's

decision to pose herself next to Villa's portrait. In a

sense, Esperanza mirrors Behar in assuming the

authority to create an image that fits her purpose. The

inclusion of another portrait within her own portrait

not only communicates Esperanza's political loyalties, it

also serves as a reminder of the constructed nature of

Esperanza's own portrait.

Through photography, the reader is tacitly invited to

identify with Behar in the role of one who can learn

much from Esperanza. Behar's cover photograph ties

the reader's first encounter with Esperanza with Behar's

own first meeting of her. Perhaps the ambiguity of

revealing Esperanza's identity through a photograph,

even though her real name is concealed, paralleled by

the ambivalence that Behar expresses in how she first

approached Esperanza as a researcher. As Behar

recounts in the book, she first met Esperanza in 1983 as

a result of a photographic incident, Behar was in a

Mexican cemetery on the Day of the Dead busy

'snapping away at the sight of the tombstones people

were lavishing decorating'. Attracted by Esperanza's

striking appearance and likeness to 'something out of

one of Diego Rivera's epic Indian women canvases',

Behar asked Esperanza if she might photograph her:

She looked at me haughtily and asked me, with

a brusqueness I had not encountered before

among local women, why I wanted to

photograph her, I made some weak reply, and

she let me photograph her ,,, I jumped on her

as an alluring image of Mexican womanhood,

ready to create my own exotic portrait of her,

but the image turned around and spoke back

to me, questioning my project and daring me

to carry it out (t993: 4)

In discussions of the circumstances of negotiating

image-making with their consultants, anthropologists

photographs, several scholars have entered into

refiexive self-critique, Tedlock has twice commented in

written form on particular incidents of photographing:

One summer evening as my husband and I sat

in a Zuni kitchen with a returned pilgrim from

Kachina Village, the Land of the Dead, I

suggested that I might take a picture of the

pilgrim, 'for history and all'. The family

agreed, but the first photo revealed only a

gleaming-white electronic blur bouncing off

his glasses, and the second, without glasses, a

blank red-eyed stare. Pictures no one loved,

liked, or even wanted. Instead of a loving

family portrait, those photos betrayed my

insistent documentary urge to freeze, store,

and retrieve the authenticity of an encounter

with a returned Zuni pilgrim, a classic act of

ethnographic bad faith, (1995: 277-278)

Sometimes ethical dilemmas in photography stem from

subjects' requests rather than an agenda based on an

anthropologist's motives for photographing. In Nanda's

second edition of Neither Man Nor Woman, for

example, the anthropologist describes an ethical

dilemma that occurred while she was doing fieldwork

in India among the Hijra, As she recounts, she was

particularly concerned about ethical questions in her

research and publications 'because of the inherently

exotic, and potentially sensationalist nature of the

group' she was studying (1999: 156), One of her key

consultants urged Nanda to take a picture of her genital

area, which had been transformed through operation

from male to female:

'You must take a picture of my operated area,'

she insisted, 'so that people in your country

will also know the power and skill of the

hijras',

I felt really torn. On the one hand, I

had no doubt that such photographs were a

legitimate part of my data gathering. But I also

knew that I would never feel comfortable

showing such pictures, even to a scholarly

audience, and that to focus on a disembodied

physical part of a person who was my friend

would be contrary to my understanding of a

hum an personality as a whole, (1999: 156-157)

The ambivalence that Nanda felt is a constant theme in

many of the writings of the anthropologists whose work

I examine here. At times this ambivalence stems from a

disagreement about a decision to take or not to take a

specific photograph; many times, however, it revolves


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Photography and ambivalence 139

privileged eye, a voyeuristic eye, an all-powerful eye'.

Behar informs readers that 'Feminist writers within the

academy have devoted a considerahle amount of energy

to ... the difficult question of how women are to make

other women the subjects of their gaze without

objectify'ing them and thus ultimately betraying them'

(1996: 21). Some of her own struggle is manifested in

Translated W oman:

I know that as I walked through the streets of

San Luis photographing Esperanza with the

bucket of vegetables on her head, I often felt as

though we were playing the parts of Arthur

Munby and Hannah CuUwick, I

photographing the working-class woman at

every turn, she willingly the subject of my gaze.

(1993: 244)

Despite their articulated concerns and assessments of

negative outcomes that can result from photographic

practices, the anthropologists' use of photographs in

some of the same works that hold their remarks also

reveal their assessment of some positive reasons to

utilize photographs.

As a material object that is often prized by their

consultants, anthropologists may take photographs as a

favour to those among whom they work. Tedlock, for

example, twice mentions a Zuni child asking the

Tedlocks (her uncle and aunt in the Zuni family to

which the couple was attached) to take a photograph,

one of which Tedlock included in her book

Th e

Beautiful and the Dangerous.

The familial use of photographs is noted on several

occasions by Behar, Tedlock and Hastrup and, as

surrogate kin or, at least as accepted community

members among those whose lives they shared,

anthropologists are often witness to others'

photographic documents:

Marta focuses her camera on all of my

Mexican wares. 'Look at all the beautiful things

from Mexico', she says into the [video]

camera. She seems to be displaying for her

family back in Mexico all the Mexican things

the anthropologist has in her house, which the

Mexican herself namely, Marta, doesn't want

to have. (1996: 91)

Even though they often do not include a person's own

photographs in their work, references to their

informants' photographic collections are often

Tedlock cleverly juxtaposes information about

photographs of Zuni people taken by Matilda

Stevenson, an early anthropologist working among the

Zuni in the 1880s, and Stevenson's unethical approach

to making them, with a personal collection of

photographs of a young Zuni named Joe. Significantly,

Tedlock includes two of Stevenson's images, while none

of Joe's are placed within the book. After recounting

that Joe shared 'an old boot box fuU of curled and

faded colour snapshots, mostly from Vietnam', Tedlock

assigns captions to the non-pictured photographs that

parallel the captions she replicates from Stevenson's

published work. Examples of the captions that

Tedlock juxtaposes over several pages (1992: 173-187)

include:

ALTAR AND FETISHES OF RAIN PRIEST OF THE

NADIR

JOE AND A SIOUX IN ARMY FATIQUES WITH A

WALKIE-TALKIE

RATTLESNAKE SHRINE

PARATROOPER WHO LOST HIS LEG IN A

MORTAR BLAST

SWORD SWALLOWERS' DRY PAINTING, AND

FETISHES

JOE WITH A PRETTY TEENAGED VIETNAMESE

GIRL

SHALAKO GODS

THE SIOUX AND JOE ZONKED ON ACID

Through the ironic ploy of fabricating captions in the

scientific mode of her predecessor, Tedlock draws a

reader's attention to the objectifying properties of past

anthropological research and the dangers of her own

discussion of Zuni lives. At the same time though, she

undermines the stereotypes of Native Americans by

assigning brief descriptions of constructed moments

from one of her consultant's lives that he and others

created for his own use. She safeguards his privacy as

well by not including any of the images from his

personal collection.

With an interest in their consultants' own photography,


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masked Hewa Hewa Clowns and queries Joe on this

point:

Now wait just a minute, we thought it wasn't

allowed to take pictures of masked dancers, 'It

isn't.' Well? 'They're members of the family,

and besides, I took it right here in the house.

Look here, man, you can see it's a flash

picture. Do you want it? It's a Polaroid. Maybe

you could figure out how to make some bigger

ones to give to the rest of the guys. Mom, and

me'. (1992: 186-187)

Hastrup also discovers some truths when she is shown

an Icelandic family's photo album. She terms the

photographs 'icons of memory' and writes that they

'were among their dearest treasures'. She was shown

pictures of the family's two sons in their christening

gowns, but was surprised to see the boys photographed

at the ages they were:

Further questioning revealed that when the

boys had actually been christened the family

had no camera; but w hen they were 1 and 4

years old, respectively, the parents had the

opportunity to borrow one. Then they had

dressed the huge babies in their old christening

robe and taken photographs of them 'so that

we had their christening pictures', the mother

explained.

Christening pictures they were, but on which

scale were they authentic, and in which sense

were they archives to the family's past? They

certainly were representation of 'pastness' but

they were not history (cf. Tonkin 1990: 27),

This incident taught me, first, that we have to

question the relationship between visibility and

veracity. Next, I learnt by direct experience

that history is not fixed, it consists in a series

of representations that may or may not

coincide with one's own conventions of

representation. (H astrup 1998: 66-67)

Despite her sceptism in the veracity of photographs, a

sceptism shared by Tedlock and Behar in particular,

and despite her assertion that photographs are quite

inadequate to the demands of ethnography since they

cannot communicate anything except what someone

wants to say about them, Hastrup uses photographs in

her 1998 ethnography A

Place

Apart, an

Anthropological

Study of the IcelandicWorld.

Of particu lar interest to

me is her inclusion of a photograph she took at a ram

From the periphery of the event, where I

moved about in order to be inconspicuous, I

took pictures and made notes, trying hard to

look like an honorary male. It was impossible,

and eventually, I had to leave out of sheer

emb arrassmen t ,,, I was satisfied, however, to

have been there and to have been able to

document this remarkable event .., I even had

photos from the sacred grove of a male secret

society.

When, later, I saw the pictures, they were

hopeless. Ill-focused, badly lit, lopsided and

showing nothing but the completely

uninteresting backs of men and rams. While I

was taking them I had the impression that I

was making an almost pornographic record of

a secret ritual. They showed nothing but bore

the marks of my own inhibition, resulting

from my transgression of the boundary

between gender categories.

This is the point: the nature of the event could

not be recorded in photography. The texture

of maleness and sex which filled the room had

been an intense sensory experience, but it was

invisible. The reality of the total social event

had been transformed into a two-dimensional

image, a souvenir (cf. Sontag 1973: 9). For me

it invokes a particular memory, for others the

information is very limited.

Probably better photographers, or just male

ethnographers, could have made a finer

photographic record of the ram exhibition.

They would still have to realise, however, that

pictures have a limited value as ethnographic

'evidence'. While one can take pictures of

ritual groves and of the participants in the

ritual, one cannot capture their secret on

celluloid. This has to be told. (1992: 9)

Yet in her 1998 ethnography that includes 11 of her

black and white photographs, Hastrup includes one of

the ram festival. Aside from the photograph's

respectable look as a photograph, the image seems to

fulfil the same role as the other photographs of the

book - a simultaneous personal testimony of fieldwork

in Iceland (indeed, three of the book's photographs

specifically depict her Icelandic field sites) and a visual

record that accompanies the textual examinations of

her fieldwork experience and its results.

In her written work, Hastrup emphasizes the


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'feature of visibility' that Hastrup contends 'has in all

likelihood deeply marked people's sensation of its

historical magnitude' (1998: 118). Two photographs in

particular - 'Appropriating the vastness of nature: the

church at IngjaldshoU' and 'Return to silence' -

emphasize the importance of visuality through visual

communication. The former depicts a church rendered

very small against the snow swept, bleak landscape, and

the latter depicts a few faraway houses huddled under a

hillside, facing the shore of the ocean. Both black and

white photographs encapsulate a feeling of starkness

and create a contrast of human habitation to nature

reiterated in the contrast of the black and white images.

Hastrup's choice of distance in creating the

photographs creates a visual parallel to her written

descriptions. A reader senses through visual means the

same interpretation Hastrup articulates through her

experimental ethnographic text. In harmony with her

musical metaphors, the poetry she includes at the

beginning and end, and her decision to alternatively use

first and third person when referring to herself such

images convey another sensual dimension to Hastrup's

characterization of herself and her subject. The

photographs may indeed be 'thinner' than the thick

description that Hastrup elsewhere attributes to text;

her choice to include them, however, signals that she

assigns positive value to their communicative

properties.

The historical debate as to whether photography should

be a part of science (as a document) or of art (an

interpretation) is, in some respects, still a part of the

ambivalence that anthropologists may feel toward the

medium. Yet what may contribute to feelings of

ambivalence toward photography may also be

considered a desirable combination of factors. In Th e

Beautiful and the Dangerous, Tedlock succinctly alludes

to these combined properties:

Wanting images that were simultaneously

documentary and interpretive, in order to

learn about the butchering process [of a deer]

and to evoke the dismemberment of this lovely

once-living heing, I decided to hounce my

electronic flash gun off the whitewashed ceiling

at the classic f5.6. My shutter clicked and the

gun flashed. (1992: 125)

The reader of The Beautiful and the

Dangerous

is

presented with one of the photographs in question in

one section of the book and images of beautifully

Most of Abu-Lughod's lyrical images of Bedouin people

in both Veiled Sentimentsan d Writing Women s Worlds

may be seen as contradictory to the sense of Bedouin

aesthetics of a proper picture. Yet the anthropologist's

choice to include candid images of people engaged in a

wide variety of activities suggests that she finds

photography to be an expressive form in the translation

process of constructing an ethnography in the same

way that the poetry of the Bedouin people expresses

truths about their lives. The intimacy of the

photographs further communicates Abu-Lughod's

position within the group as a trusted and beloved

family member and friend.

The 'interpretive turn in anthropology' seems well

suited to the use of a camera in a sensitive pair of

hands, and it is the foregrounding of their

interpretation that Tedlock, Hastrup and Behar seem to

emphasize in their photographic work in a variety of

ways.

While Tedlock and Behar foreground their use of

photography as a visual mode of interpretive

communication in written statements, I contend that all

of the anthropologists discussed in this paper use

images in a self-conscious manner to highlight them as

interpretive devices (cf. Dominguez 2000). The

juxtaposition of the photographs with some

ethnographic textual treatments that may be

categorized as experimental may aid the reader/viewer

in understanding the photographs as careful,

interpretive constructions similar to a first

person anecdote, a poem or a series of reflexive

statements.

NEW DIRECTIONS

Given the prominence of written texts in

anthropological history and their foreseeable ongoing

importance into the future, the inclusion of

photographic images in books can contribute to the re-

evaluation and formulation of changes in photographic

forms. The juxtaposition of text and image is one that

some anthropologists are still exploring to the mutual

advantage of both communicative forms.

'Photomontage with Texts' by Lisa Pope (the

pho togra phe r) and Amy Heffernan (the selector of

quotes) is such an experimental form. It is a

collaborative work that often juxtaposes photographic

portraits of well-known women anthropologists such as

Elsie Clews Parsons, Ruth Benedict, Margaret Mead,


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Other anthropologists have begun to explore a number

of innovative approaches to photography as a tool for

empowerment. Although still photographs literally

render people within the frames voiceless, a consciously

constructed power of presence (El Guindi 1993) may be

likened to a visual voice and be a tool of empowerment.

The power of presence is explored by Behar in

Th e

Vulnerable

Observer specifically in reference to events

that are threatening to the lives and well-being of

others: ,,,'do you, the observer, stay behind the lens of

the camera, switch on the tape recorder, keep pen in

hand? Are their limits - of respect, piety, pathos - that

should not be crossed, even to leave a record? But if

you can't stop the horror, shouldn't you at least

document it?' (1996: 2). Nancy Scheper-Hughes,

advocate for a 'barefoot anthropology' that takes a

militant stance on the primacy of the ethical, sounds a

similar note, distinguishing between anthropologist as

spectator and anthropologist as witness:

I think of some of my anthropological subjects

.,, for whom anthropology is not a 'hostile

gaze' but rather an opportunity for

self-

expression. Seeing, listening, touching,

recording can be, if done with care and

sensitivity, acts of solidarity. Above all, they are

the work of recognition. Not to look, not to

touch, not to record can be the hostile act, an

act of indifference and of turning away. (1995:

418)

In

Death Without Weeping

{1992),Scheper-Hughes uses

photography as a visual testament to the difficult lives

of her Brazilian barrio consultants. The full frontal

gazes of the people attest to their awareness of Scheper-

Hughes' camera. Her captions and textual discussions

similarly support the documentation quality of her

photographs which recall those of such photographic

activists as Lewis Hine, Along with photographs of iU

and dying children, a woman begging for the sake of

feeding her children and a child's corpse, Scheper-

Hughes includes an image of Nestle milk products and

women organizing for self-help, Scheper-Hughes does

not include photographs of impoverished subjects

gratuitously. Hers is an activist agenda that uses images

as well as text to inform and argue for change.

One important trend for empowerment within

anthropology is that of photo-elicitation (and, more

specifically, photovoice). Information derived from

showing consultants photographs can be traced back to

women's art forms, by expanding on the collaborative

efforts of an anthropologist and her consultants and

emphasizing an activist agenda. In contrast to earlier

work based on the photographs of anthropologists or

museums, much recent work centres on photographs

taken by consultants themselves, Lynn Blinn and

Amanda Harrist, for example, used Polaroid snapshots

of re-entry women students that the women themselves

made. The anthropologists spearheaded the project in

order to explore with the women the challenges of

combining the demands of school and home life

(1991). Caroline Wang, Mary Ann Burris and Xiang

Yue Ping introduced a photovoice project to rural

Chinese women as 'an innovative methodology that

puts cameras in the hands of rural women and other

constituents who seldom have access to those who

make decisions over their lives' (1996: 1391). In the

past eight years, a wide range of projects in many

countries have drawn from the photovoice concept.

CONCLUSION

The representational issues with which anthropologists

have grappled - objectification, objectivity and

authenticity, ethnographic authority, visibility/voice,

and the gaze, are ones that have led many female

anthropologists to feel ambivalence towards the use of

photography in their work. As the juxtaposition of

images and text for a number of prominent women

anthropologists has revealed, that ambiguity has led to

a variety of thoughts and approaches of using

photography within ethnographic texts.

In new arenas that depart from the burdens of past

ethnographic practices, some anthropologists have

begun to explore their conflictual feelings toward

photography using photography itself as a means to

that end. The limitations of the medium are explored as

strengths in work that draws on such photographic

properties as ambiguity, fragmentation and emotive

properties. The anthropologists discussed in this essay

have already begun to challenge the disciplinary

boundaries and to draw upon others' insights. Works

such as Jo Spence and Joan Soloman's anthology

What

Can a Woman Do with a Camera?

(1995), Elaine

Reichek's art/photo montages, Barbara Kruger's

photographic activist posters and a variety of other

feminist photographic works that critique western

hegemonic visual discourses are among the resources

available to all anthropologists.


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144 /. D.

Hammond

Others in uneven power relations. It is also a tool to

create means of empowerment for subjects and

anthropologists alike. The deconstruction of old

dichotomies and boundaries, combined with a new

means of expressing and acting on such significant

themes as empowerment, visibility and collaborative

communication herald future directions for

anthropologists who wish to combine photography

with their works and lives.

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