Last week we watched documentaries on photographers: Annie Leibowitz and James Natchwey.  Both are known as masters in their prospective fields; Annie shoots celebrities, models, and other portraits and James captures the devastation and horrors of war and poverty.  While neither of the two are anthropologists by trade, we can learn a lot from both of them about the methods and ethics of capturing and reproducing images of people.

At the most basic level, visual anthropology is intrinsically connected with the image, what is seen by and of cultures, the visual depiction and understanding of peoples.  However, as we have seen through other short videos this week, not all photography and video is visual anthropology.  The act of recording someone’s image is an act of power, which can easily be exploited.  We have discussed hidden cameras, unauthorized distribution, and manipulation as examples of this representational violence.  Photography can also simply be artistic, or for personal or sentimental value.        

That being said, neither of the photographers I will discuss make a living as visual anthropologists.

Then what is it that makes these two relevant to our subject?

Both Annie and James represent people through photography. 



Accurate?  What kind of representation?
http://www.fanpop.com/spots/annie-leibovitz/images/1518850/title/pocahontas-photo



Annie does not always represent directly, she sometimes bends realities and depicts with metaphors.  Her subjects are often meticulously posed, using props and surreal effects.  However, Annie claims that she uses these methods to get the heart of her subjects. She says, “In a portrait, you have room to have a point of view.  The image may not be literally what's going on, but it's representative (Leibowitz, 2008)” While Annie has room to take great liberties with ‘exact representation’, this makes us aware that even in visual anthropology, you can never recreate reality.  At best, you have a visual representation.





http://www.jamesnachtwey.com/

James’s representation takes a more subjective approach.  He claims that his work “gives them (the subjects of his work) a voice in the outside world that they otherwise wouldn’t have.”  In a way, he believes that through his photographs, people are “making their own appeal to the outside world.”  Similarly, as anthropologists, we hope that our work will not just be our representation of others, but include peoples conceptions of themselves.  By shooting a photo and selecting and image, we are immediately imprinting our own desires- selections of space and time, lighting and angle.  However, James suggests that through his work, what those image conveys to the world can very much be the subject’s representation. 

Both photographers engage in participant observation of sorts.



http://hayleyprairieview.blogspot.com/



Leibowitz spent months touring with the Rolling Stones intending to capture authentic moments.  By engaging deeply in their lives, including drug use, her participant observation even raised a common anthropological question of ‘going native’~ when have you crossed the line between participation and observation?

http://rsemel.wordpress.com/

Natchwey introduces another angle of participant observation; an extended dedication to one subject.  He spent months with a single family who was living between the train tracks in Indonesia.

Ultimately, while I believe that much of these photographers’ works can be likened to anthropology; I still don’t feel comfortable labeling these photographers ‘visual anthropologists’.  The two take photos that they hope can independently evoke emotions and convey largely interpretational messages.  James Natchwey has some of themost moving and powerful photography I have ever seen.  However, I still don’t believe that snapshots are enough to accomplish what life histories and extended ethnographies convey.  I am more familiar with visual anthropology as the accompaniment of both images and words.  As a comparison, take a look at Righteous Dopefiends, an ethnography that uses images to reinforce a textual narrative.  Which do you find more effective?   

I guess this leaves the open question; is it possible to do visual anthropology entirely without words?  Can images standing alone achieve the same thing as text?



Chisa, my Home Visit Partner

Chisa is my weekend home visit partner.  I was a little nervous about meeting her at first- my utter inability to make small talk can be difficult.  I was also afraid, without need, that a pair of heels and a layer of makeup might stand between our ability to initially relate.  I was happy to be proved wring, and our first meeting turned out to be easy.  While I am entirely not athletic and Chisa enjoys sports (basketball, badminton, and soccer,) we could connected over many of our interests: movies, travel, and most importantly, food.

Chisa's Boots- I told her that they would work well in Maine...

I didn’t get a chance to go over to Chisa’s home until last week, but we went to 鳥貴族 with one of her friends.  Here is a classic example of japanese politeness; I didn’t know if we were all sharing portions so I let my friends order and decide.  I was hoping to try maybe one or two things on the menu, and wasn’t worried that two small Japanese girls would get portions I couldn’t handle.  After I don’t-know-how-many servings of every thing on the menu, I realized that I may have met my match.  That girl can EAT. There is nothing like a well-earned food coma to bring people together. 

I had a meal with Chisa’s family last week, and got to enjoy again the experience that food and company bring together.  The discomfort of going to someone’s home (and inversely, inviting a stranger into one’s own home), was lightened by laughter; a shared sentiment in any language.  Laughter at Chisa’s small dog, who was determined to make my presence known to EVERYONE in the neighborhood, or my attempts to master “Osaka-ben” by inserting Nandeyanen at inappropriate moments, I eased into my home visit family.

I regret that I didn’t think of taking photos during these experiences, but I got a sequence of good photos at Kansai Gaidai that show these changing comfort levels.  I think it was a bit of a challenge to get photos that were dually for MY project and were photos that reflected Chisa’s personality.  With questions “What do you want me to do?” Or, “where should I stand?” and it is hard to take a photo that is of someone truly being themselves.  I think a sense of humor about these miscommunications helped ease up the process.

"It has been reported that Tanuki fell from the sky using his scrotum as a parachute. " Tom Robbins

This opening line of Tom Robbin’s novel, Villa Incognito, doesn't specify where Tanuki landed, but this pot-bellied invasion hit Hirakata city hard.  I spent a lot of my first weeks in the neighborhood around the seminar houses wondering why the hell this big-balled canid was posted sentinel in front of hundreds of homes and shops.  It took some questioning and a little old fashion ググるing (Googling) to discover that, unlike the American ‘lawn gnome’ the tanoki isn’t popular for his good looks alone.  The tanuki, a wild badger-dog, is part of Japanese folklore.  He is depicted as a shape-shifting troublemaker, and was historically placed in front of Soba shops that sold tanuki soba noodles.  When I asked some Japanese students, they told me that tanuki is a symbol of luck.  However, like many cultural symbols, his image seems to have many meanings.  His image represents mischief, virility, and overindulgence on sake. A veritable shape-shifter, Tanuki is both comic and heralding, linked to the traditional and the commercial.

Of course, this is only one facet of neighborhood Hirakata.  It was difficult to narrow down my description of the area to a more intimate and individual experience in such a short period of time, so what I write now is still very much based off of first impressions. I can at least describe my neighborhood through individual experiences.

Early morning Ambassadors

To do any complex anthropological study of my neighborhood, I knew that I would have to speak to the people who lived there.  My challenge was to break through the barrier of language and wariness with the residents and shop owners around seminar house one.  I easily see 15 people on my way to and from school every morning, but there is no easy way to make strangers want to give you their time.  By the end of last week I was beginning to get desperate for a patient translator and the courage to politely harass strangers around my house when a man confronted me one morning, to my surprise, in French.  He told me that he always tried to greet gaijin in French, in case he got a response.  He had lived in Paris for four years for work, and now lived down the road.  Our ability to communicate in French was enough to hear his reasons for living in France, for work, and a bit of his life story, (although hardly enough for a personal narrative).

This was my first challenge dealing with visual anthropology ethics, but I explained to him the purpose of my blog first in French, and then translated in Japanese.  He was happy to take a picture with me, and took over the set up of the photo.  He explained that we would pose shaking hands- to show the relationship between Japan and France.  Through a series of chance and observation I am beginning to discover more about the area I live in. 

"An Overture to the Commencement of a Very Rigid Search" - J. Safran Foer

Since I began my year abroad, I have been asked countless times- why did I choose the combination of France and Japan?  It may be easier to field this question to David Sedaris, I don't have an easy answer.  I expected dynamically different experiences from each semester, but I appreciate the cross-over of cultures along the way.  This is why, for my blog dedicated to Japan, I choose not to start with my departure at Kansai international airport, but instead in Paris, at the palace of Versailles.

In the fall of 2010, a Tokyo born artist, Takashi Murakami, opened an exhibition of Japanese pop art at Versailles.  Extremely controversial, Murakami’s brilliantly colored animated sculptures were displayed in the bedrooms and halls of Louis XIV’s palace.  The ‘clash’ between classical history and Japanese pop art has since then inspired a hoard of critics and polemic controversy.  During my visit, mobs of visitors disclaimed the art as disgraceful or, much to my amusement, attempted to avoid looking at it altogether.   I was surprised by how unanimously the display was condemned.  It was clear that the artist combined modern and ancient for a purpose, whether or not the result was popular.  It begs the question, in which spaces are cross-cultural identities shared, and in which are they seen as mutually exclusive?  I am bound to find out, but this time from the other point of view; from Japan.

Link: http://www.coolhunting.com/culture/murakami-versai.php

Japanese culture has been filtering into my life gradually and subtly for a long time.  Somehow, glimpses of culture that belonged to historically insular Japanese society worked their way into the nucleus of my small Maine community.  I see this in the law student who quit school days before the bar exam to pursue a career in Bunraku puppetry.  Or, the vietnam veteran whose shed is a workshop for Raku pottery.  I came to Japan following a trail of personal curiosities, about the culture, the artisans, and the traditions that have captivated so many people around me.  

My greatest challenge here so far has been understanding part of a culture that runs on a stream of technology and fast-paced communication.  I'm a borderline neo-luddite, so I find it hard to understand the speed at which Japan has modernized and expanded.  I am coming from a state with the ‘last frontier’ of America to the electric light culture that is anime and pachinko parlors, Harajuku and host bars.  In seeing anthropology as “making the strange familiar and the familiar strange,” I have definitely come to the right place.  

Osaka at Night

Overwhelming  Bamboo

So far, my impressions of Japan have been more or less on a superficial level.  Even thought I am meeting new people and developing relationships every day, I am still very much observing life here.  When I begin to adapt to the rituals and patterns of daily life here, the obedient attention to crosswalks, the routine of classes and grocery shopping, the exchanges with Kansai Gaidai students, I find myself abruptly introduced to pockets of Japanese life that are new and unexpected.  Watching Soul Train and delivering pizza for a bohemian Japanese man at four am in Osaka, hiking around Hotani campus in the unexpected snow with french speaking Japanese students.  The best part about travel is unquestionably the people you meet and the doors they open; to webs of connections and networks of acquaintances.  I love people- it's why I study anthropology.  I am looking forward to the following months here- and hope to begin to uncover the undercurrent of life that makes this pacific ocean country so incredibly unique.