Musings of a Budding Photographer

The photos in this entry were taken at the school where Finn and the Irish musicians performed, as described in the previous entry.

It started at the end of my time in South Africa when I captured the shot that encapsulates South Africa for me; the barbed wire against the red sunset (in a post from December). Since then I have become somewhat obsessed with finding images like that one; ones that you could literally write 1000 words about. So far in Malawi I have taken some photographs that I am pretty proud of… but I must question why I pride myself on these images.

First of all, let me preface this with some truths:

*I know nothing about shutter speeds, light meters, focus…. All the technical stuff

*I only use a point-and-shoot digital camera (Canon PowerShot SX120 IS)

*My sister is much more of a photographer than I and has taken some amazing photos, especially of people. She does the whole dark-room thing, messes with exposures and chemicals and what-not…. all over my head. But she and my mother have always told me I have “an eye” for photography. I always feel weird about that, saying, “Nah, I don’t! I just look!”

I wrote about this just a little in a previous entry, how it is so easy to take a “compelling” photograph in Africa because, well, there’s just seemingly more to work with. For me, it is more challenging to take compelling pictures in Shelby, NC. But what I have been asking myself lately is, ‘why?’ What is it about little bald black heads that is so much more interesting to look at than a bunch of blond heads? For instance, in the following photo (my favorite one from that day), would it be as cool if it were a little white boy with blond hair?

or this one:

Photos I have taken of groups of Malawian children seem so much more striking. I thought, hmm, maybe the lack of hair makes the viewer focus more on the face. So many children here carry the trauma they have seen on their faces:

while others just light up at the sight of a camera:

I absolutely LOVE this picture!! The action!! All of the faces!! But why is it so “cool” that Andrew Finn is the only white person in the frame? Talking with Finn about this, he had some great insights that I agree with and helped me answer many of the questions I posed earlier:

The message in this photo is that while they don’t look alike, Finn and the boys still have so much in common. There is a human connection going on that defies color and culture. This photo proves that these children are more than just postcards for donations- this shows they are actual people. Look at how much fun everyone is having! There aren’t as many differences as we may think; we can all delight in taking a photograph. Therein lies the power. So, the answer to the question about little black heads vs. little blond heads is no, it would not be as cool if it were a little blond boy because the story behind it is that it's all about the cultural exchange, about highlighting differences and diminishing them at the same time. A smile is a smile in any language.

I am also trying to analyze how the look of poverty can become so exoticized in photographs. A photo of an emaciated African child with flies buzzing around it hits people so much harder than a photograph of a Beverly Hills plastic-surgery junkie in her mansion, when I think both are just as sad. It’s sad that the child seemingly has no option and it’s sad that a woman with such unwarranted wealth can think of nothing better to do than get lipo. This is just a made up example, but you know what I mean? Both nauseate me, just for different reasons. It’s easier to inspire people donate money to an NGO through photos of skinny black arms and tattered clothes than it is to inspire people to write their Senators about taxes and health-care reforms through pictures of extravagant American lifestyles. So why don't I start snapping away when I am at a swanky Embassy party full of ex-pats dressed to the nines; ex-pats that work for Aid organizations nonetheless? Where is the real story?

Hmm. 

Anyways.

Sometimes during an interview/narrative session, I ask the person we are talking to if it is ok to take their photo. Our translator and friend, Blessings (also pictured in a previous post) always laughs and says, “Of course its ok!” He says that people never really ask to take pictures, and for the most part Malawians don’t really care. I have to ask though, I feel rude not asking. But you know, maybe for the rural Malawians we have talked to, it is one of the few chances they might have to be immortalized. In a country where death is so common that there are coffin shops on every other street, perhaps to them this photo means that somewhere, somehow, they will be remembered. I’m only guessing.

None of this is to say I am going to give up photography because I feel guilty. No way. I am going to continue showing that little African boys can find joy in watching a group of white musicians play music on instruments they have never seen before because, to me, that’s what its all about. Thus, I am thrilled to continue looking and taking photographs in the name of my quest for the photo.

I’ll let you know what I find.