a sort of voyeuristic ventriloquism
A little while ago, I came across this really good article by Toby Buckle about masculinity:
We have never before had more ability to develop ourselves as fathers, as children caring for parents, or in who or how we date. We’ve also never before had more opportunity to be traditionally masculine—to make a vocation of the army, or pulling people from burning buildings, or competing in professional sports. Despite the silly and shallow self-pity of some, there has never been a better time to be a man.
If you’re paying any sort of attention to what’s going in the world, it’s difficult to disagree with that — even though there is a huge chorus of voices claiming that masculinity is under attack.
But there was something else in that article that struck me, namely an indictment of a very widely used talking point by photographers. Buckle describes photographer Chris Arnade’s work as “a sort of voyeuristic ventriloquism: gawping at, and speaking for, people who he imagines can’t speak for themselves”.
For the longest time, I’ve had problems with the idea that somehow, photographers (or artists) give voice to those who don’t have any: what exactly is this based on or in — other than the photographer’s privilege and/or idea of who they are? That term voyeuristic ventriloquism really hit me: that is exactly it.
This is not to say that photographers should shy away from making work; but I do think if at any stage, you somehow convinced yourself that you’re telling the story of people who for some inexplicable reason can’t do it themselves, then maybe think about whether that’s really true.
And then just the other day, Samantha Hancox-Li published an article about masculinity and femininity in the same publication, and that also blew me away:
Cock your head and recognize, in the bodies and styles of the reactionary right, the same styles taken from drag culture: exaggerated talismans of masculine and feminine, exaggerated performances of manhood and womanhood, all played with completely straight faces. There's no humor or fun here, just a dead-eyed desperation to finally be enough.
Where is this coming from she asks — and dives deep into the answers. Incredible writing:
To be adored by someone you do not respect is empty. I can tell you right now it is empty. The esteem that matters—the esteem that sticks with you—is esteem from those you yourself esteem. It is in this mutual recognition that we find satisfaction. What is good in life? To be recognized as worthy by others equally real.
This reminds me of something a friend of mine told me a long time ago when we were both doctorate students. Some famous scientist had given a talk, and he had said exactly that, albeit in the science context: the reason why we were doing all of this (you know, theoretical cosmology — nobody needs any of it) is because we were doing it for each other, to, in Hancox-Li’s words, experience “esteem from those you yourself esteem”.
The Buddhist in me finds the idea problematic, at least on a basic level. Still, it does sound positively enlightened to aspire to a state where we all can accept each other for what we truly are.
The above also applies to photographers and artists: to understand success, don’t look at sales or numbers of followers or at numbers of reviews or any of that stuff. Work towards the esteem Hancox-Li spoke of: be prepared to give it, and be prepared to accept it.
That’s enough!
“Even in the darkest places, within the most broken systems,” Jasmine Mooney writes, “humanity persists”, concluding:
Sometimes, it reveals itself in the smallest, most unexpected acts of kindness: a shared meal, a whispered prayer, a hand reaching out in the dark. We are defined by the love we extend, the courage we summon and the truths we are willing to tell.
But then, within the most broken systems, those that maintain them might produce the most awful content. “When I showed my wife the video,” Jeff Sharlet writes, “her first response was ‘Holy shit.’ Because it’s a lot. The caged men, the pose, the look. My wife, Julia Rabig, a historian, identified the look as Lara Croft, Tomb Raider (we both, journalist and historian, recognize that the politics here are the look, not Noem’s generic “tough” words).”
Speaking of awful content: “Instagram, Fanvue, and none of the accounts I reached out to responded to a request for comment.” That’s a sentence from an article that is altogether too awful to even contemplate, and yet we must: “A network of Instagram accounts is using AI to steal content from human creators and deepfake their faces to make them look like they have Down syndrome.”
How did we get to this place?
If you can stomach it, there’s a follow-up article, which is even worse.
To imagine that a mere 20 years ago, people used the internet to make videos such as the one above. If you’ve never seen it, watch it now (and if you have, watch it again). It’s still absolutely incredible.
That was the time before the nerds went over to the dark side.
I might as well tell you about my latest photobook again. Alexander Wells published a long article about manipulations of historical memory in Orbán’s Hungary, which is worth your read. In effect, that’s the background read for my book, even though obviously there’s no relationship between the creations of the two.
There still is beauty in the world, and it’s important to acknowledge and appreciate it, such as Karl Ohiri collecting and preserving negatives produced by studio photographers in Lagos.
After all life goes on. And sometimes, it doesn’t, or it can’t: I had to say goodbye to one of the cats because her health had deteriorated too much. Now, there are only the memories — and her ashes (still waiting to be buried).
But it’s good to live in the moment, even if some of the moments are dark and sad.
If everything were even, there would be nothing to notice, nothing to appreciate.
With that I will conclude. As always thank you for reading!
— Jörg