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Documenting the Disaster

History may be a slaughter pen, but we didn’t always get to watch.  Now we do, up to a point, and some social commentators are sure to become censorious.  It is customary to fault photography for turning disaster into a spectacle, but the critique is mistaken in many ways beyond simply blaming the messenger.  Sure, you can gawk if you like, but there is so much more going on–in the photograph and in the complex dynamics of public response.  More to the point, the photographs of the unfolding catastrophe in Japan provide a remarkable opportunity to think about where modern societies are and where they are going.  We’ve listed below some of the slide shows (as of today) that offer particularly rich archives.

The Boston Globe’s Big Picture provides extensive coverage here, here, here, here, here. here, and here.

The New York Times has arranged before and after photos taken by satellite.  The Times primary collection of over 100 photographs of the disaster is here.  They also have some readers’ photos.

ABC News has joined before and after photos in a smart format that allows you to scroll back and forth from past to present.

Totally Cool Pix has slide shows here and here.

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The Family of Man

The photographs of the devastation wreaked by the recent earthquake and tsunami in Japan are, well, simply devastating—aerial views of towns and cities literally flattened beyond recognition, acres upon acres of rubble and debris, and, of course, amidst all the scattered wreckage, dead bodies.  But for the fact that they are in color, many of these photographs could be perfect doubles for photographs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the immediate aftermath of suffering nuclear attack.  It is a haunting reminder of the persistent threat of calamity to human frailty whether wrought by man or nature.

Many of the images of rubble and wreckage show oddities such as boats teetering perilously atop buildings or hundreds of cars and trucks piled upon one another in a city street as if rather in a junkyard.  But equally prominent, and far more poignant, are photographs such as the one above of family photo albums that managed to survive the catastrophe only to come to rest among the detritus.

The family photo album is a modern affectation, of course, but within liberal, late modern cultures its presence is ubiquitous to the point of being almost universal.  And its value in this context is pronounced as a central marker of time and identity, of where “we” have been and who “we” are, as well as a family relic to be passed down from one generation to the next. Just as the photograph is an index of the thing photographed, indicating that “this” once was here, so too is the family photo album an index of the family it records.  It is not clear if these particular photo albums will ever find their rightful owners, if the mud and dirt will ever be cleared away, or if the images contained within them will live on in specific family memories—or if they will live on at all.  What is clear, and perhaps what is most important, is our willingness to recognize them among the rubble as important symbols of a common humanity that invites us to activate a powerful stranger relationality.

There but for the grace of god …

Photo Credit:  Damir Sagolj/Reuters

 

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After the Quake: When You Realize Science Fiction Is Real

You’ve seen photographs of the devastation, the images that chronicle the magnitude of the quake and the sheer mess it can make, and you’ve seen photographs of the rescue efforts, as governments swing into action to provide shelter, food, medical care for the survivors, and you’ve seen photographs of those who didn’t make it, and of those who now are wounded by grief, sometimes watching helplessly or walking aimlessly through a world turned upside down.  But you might not have seen an image such as this one:

The caption at The Big Picture said that “an official in protective gear talks to a woman who is from the evacuation area near the Fukushima Daini nuclear plant in Koriyama.”  I find the description puzzling, as the woman clearly is speaking to the official as well.  The difference reveals more than gender bias, although that should be pointed out.  We are to believe that the official is instructing the woman, guiding and helping her on behalf of her safety and others as well.  Shouldn’t communication during a disaster be from the official to the citizen, and from those who are equipped with modern technology to those who are wrapped in a blankets?  Well, yes and no, not least because effective response to a disaster depends on two-way communication: those who are deployed need information from those who have direct experience of what is happening on the ground.  Given the sensory deprivation involved with that Hazmat suit, she probably can help.

But I digress.  One reason this photograph is remarkable is that it seems to be a still from a science fiction movie.  More precisely, by considering it as a movie still we can begin to discern its ability to reveal something about our civilization.

There she stands, one of the new nomads, continuous with primitive peoples from tens of thousands of years ago and yet newly vulnerable.  Her blanket and mask were machine made, but she seems to be illuminated by firelight, and her gesture suggests that she knows the terrain and even how to negotiate with the alien questioning her.  But we know that she is in danger; it’s as if the red tent behind them is blaring a continuous state of emergency.

As well it should, for what kind of world includes the figure on the right?  Its clothing isn’t something that was grabbed while scrambling for safety.  The suit and gloves were designed, tested, manufactured, ordered, and worn in training because they are part of the normal operation of managing the nuclear reactor.  That is to say, because responding to nuclear catastrophe is part of the normal operation of this society.

A friend has remarked that prophets are always right because their predictions of destruction in the future actually are descriptions of what is happening right now.  (When the effects become evident down the road may be less well known; similar to public opinion polling, perhaps we should grant prophets a margin of error.)  The earthquake had to come, and the reactor, despite the many precautions taken, was likely to crack and release radiation, and both happened because of natural and social processes that were underway, day after day, well before the bad news arrived.  Thus, we might consider how the photograph above reveals not only that a dystopian future could happen, but that we already are getting used to it.

Photograph by Kim Kyung-Hoon/Reuters.

Update: For a fine essay on the role of science fiction in Japanese public culture, see “Japan’s Long Nuclear Disaster Film” by Peter Wynn Kirby at the New York Times Opinionator Blog.

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Sight Gag: “Are You Now or Have You Ever Been … a Muslim?”

Credit: John Sherffius

Sight Gags” is our weekly nod to the ironic, satiric, parodic, and carnivalesque performances that are an important part of a vibrant democratic public culture.  These “gags” may not always be funny or represent a familiar point of view, but they attempt to cut through the lies, hypocrisy, shamelessness, stupidity, complacency, and other vices of democratic life.  We typically will not comment beyond offering an identifying label, leaving the images to “speak” for themselves as much as possible.  Of course, we invite you to comment … and to send us images that you think might deserve a laugh or at least a wry and rueful look.

 

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American Modern at the Chicago Art Institute

American Modern

An Exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago

A special exhibition that explores the evolution of documentary images through the work of three of the foremost photographers of the 20th century will be on view at the Art Institute of Chicago from February 5 through May 15, 2011. American Modern: Abbott, Evans, Bourke-White presents more than 140 iconic images by Berenice Abbott (1898-1991), Walker Evans (1903-1975), and Margaret Bourke-White (1906-1971)–all taken between the years of 1929, when the stock market crashed, and 1941, when Pearl Harbor was bombed. This exhibition not only shows, for the first time, the photographs of Abbott, Evans, and Bourke-White in relation to one another, but it also chronicles how documentary photography had a hand in transforming modern art in America.

A scholarly catalogue, published by the University of California Press, accompanies the exhibition. The 213-page American Modern includes spectacular images by Berenice Abbott, Walker Evans, and Margaret Bourke-White, and features essays by co-curators Jessica May, Sharon Corwin, and Terri Weissman. It can be purchased in hardcover in the Museum Shop or online.

Additional information is here.

xxx

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Fort Taliban

It could almost be a scene from a 1950s John Ford western.  The big sky, simultaneously inviting and foreboding, dominates a sprawling and deserted frontier plain. A small detachment of soldiers emerge out of the dark shadows, returning from the day’s patrol scouting renegade Indians.  A distant fort is cast in the sun’s bright light, a small preserve of civilization and safety caught between the dark shadows in the foreground and the foreboding clouds approaching in the background.  Only John Wayne and the horses are missing.

Of course, this is not a scene from a 1950s movie, but it does call attention to one narrative subtly (or not) implied  by past and present administrations for framing the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan.  Then we were taming the U.S. frontier to enable westward expansion, now we tame the Middle East in order to facilitate the demands of globalization; Apaches or Taliban, one “terrorist” is no different than the other, or at least so it would appear.

I don’t want to seem unduly cynical here.  There were arguably good reasons for us to invade Afghanistan when we did in 2001 in search of Osama bin Laden whose involvement in the 9/11 attacks warranted a militant response designed to bring him to justice.  But that was ten years ago.  Bin Laden still remains at-large and it is highly unlikely that he is in Afghanistan, a point muted by the fact that the U.S. mission seems to have taken on the attitude of a “manifest destiny.”

President Obama has promised that we will begin to draw down our presence in Afghanistan in the summer of 2011, but Sect. of Defense Gates notes that it will be “minimal” and that we will continue to have a “security” presence past 2014.  Fort Taliban, it seems, will replace Fort Apache.  “Manifest destiny” was not an unproblematic rationale for westward expansion in the 19th century and it seems all the more problematic here, not least because it seems to operate as a deeply seeded and unstated assumption making it difficult to challenge.

An alternate frame for thinking about the U.S. presence in Afghanistan might be suggested by this photograph from the Helmand Province.

A single, unrecognizable soldier trudges along a sun baked, mud soaked road leaving boot prints in the sand. Past and future, left and right, are virtually indistinguishable from one another, and in any case neither seems to beckon the attention of the soldier, whose forward progress out of the top of the frame is single-mindedly directional.  Where he is headed and where he has come from is unclear.  What is clear is that sooner or later his boot prints will have been erased, perhaps to be replaced by another set, but maybe not.  One other thing is clear as well.  Once the soldier is gone, the sun baked, mud soaked road will remain.

Yes, only John Wayne and the horses are missing.  And the happy ending.

Photo Credits:  Finbarr O’Reilly/Reuters; Adek Berry/AFP/Getty

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The Human Form: How Much for that Image in the Window?

Photography’s subjects include the other visual arts along with their institutions such as museums, theaters, galleries, shows, festivals, and auctions, and their modes of spectatorship such as gallery tours or 3-D movie audiences.  So it is that occasionally the daily slide shows include images such as this one.

A woman is walking past an artwork at the 2011 Armory show in New York.  It is significant that she is shown in silhouette, that the photograph’s caption didn’t include the name of the artwork or artist, and that both spectator and artwork are framed in black.  Art and spectator are unified by a shared darkness, which also places them in a figure-ground relationship.  She is tied to the artwork even though not looking at it (she is walking by as if it weren’t even there to be seen), and it becomes the vehicle for revealing her presence (as if it had been designed for that purpose).  Neither inference is true, yet that is irrelevant to the photograph’s artistic effect as it is viewed by another, unseen spectator: you.

Way back in the twentieth century, it was easy to speak of the human person ensnared in structures of alienation, and to believe that the art could expose that alienation.  One could read this image in that way, but, well, the colored panels are just too bright, and the human form is not so much trapped as simply passing by.  By featuring both the jawline and the tightly bound ponytail, the silhouette has a decidedly anthropological cast.  She seems to be almost primitively human, as if part of one of those 19th (and 20th) century “ascent of man” pictures that were a centerpiece of evolutionary anthropology during its racist and sexist heyday.  But isn’t she going in the wrong direction?  Yes, and that is one reason we can assume that the old hierarchies no longer apply.  But what is going on?

The answer lies in the artwork behind her.  She is carrying her culture with her while passing through the historical corridor of modern art, while the art seems both more vibrant and the more enduring structure.  Its form imitates the bar code or other modes of systematic information display as they are designed for machine processing.  She is not so much alienated by that information as simply different from it; not so much alienated from the rectilinear code as the life form that is symbiotically related to it.  She is a human being while it is a human design, yet she is relatively primitive as it no longer needs her input while being more directly transferable across the  domain of information systems.  (Consider which one is easier to reproduce.)   As one of its tertiary functions, however, it provides the lighted background so that she can remain visible.

And remaining visible may be a gift worth having.  This image from the Shenyang stock market was taken far away from the Armory show, yet it uses a similar artistic repertoire.  The human figure is caught, albeit only in silhouette, as it is passing across a lighted data array.  The gauzy screen that is partially visible provides a nice artistic touch, suggesting a medium in both the technological and spiritual senses of the term.  Again, however, the mood can’t be fraught with angst: true, this time the colored columns are somewhat intimidating, as if in a dream that is going bad  (the blurry numbers tower above him while an alarming red band cuts across the screen at waist level), nonetheless, he is a happy fellow, smiling brightly as it hurries along.  As he is going in the same direction as the woman above, we might wonder what is there, off in the back lot of the march of progress?

More to the point, however, we might ask what value there is in highlighting the human form in a very modern world.  Both the stock exchange and the Armory show are marketplaces, and the human figure thus acquires not only aesthetic but also economic significance.  Photojournalism, which seems resolutely dedicated to realistic documentation of people and places, also can provide a different artistic platform for thinking about larger questions of how humans can inhabit the markets and other impersonal information systems that constitute modern life.

Artworks in their own right, photographs such as these can raise good questions about the human image, and, with that, about our place in a strange world of our own making.

Photographs by Timothy A. Clary/AFP-Getty Images and Tian Weitao/Xinhua-ZUMAPRESS.com.

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Sight Gag: It’s a Mad-, Mad-, Mad-, Mad- World

Credit: Jack Ohman/The Oregoniana

Sight Gags” is our weekly nod to the ironic, satiric, parodic, and carnivalesque performances that are an important part of a vibrant democratic public culture.  These “gags” may not always be funny or represent a familiar point of view, but they attempt to cut through the lies, hypocrisy, shamelessness, stupidity, complacency, and other vices of democratic life.  We typically will not comment beyond offering an identifying label, leaving the images to “speak” for themselves as much as possible.  Of course, we invite you to comment … and to send us images that you think might deserve a laugh or at least a wry and rueful look.

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Announcement: Seminar on Visual Rhetoric and Public Culture

VISUAL RHETORIC AND PUBLIC CULTURE

June 12-15, 2011/Wayne State University

with Professor John Louis Lucaites

Studies in visual rhetoric have rapidly expanded into a significant portion of rhetorical, critical, and cultural studies. The critique of visual texts – films, photographs, tattoos, bodies – has become a new focus for rhetorical analysis. This seminar will examine  various forms and theories of visual rhetoric in the context of public culture, ideology, and civic participation. How does “seeing” reflect and promote rhetorical practice and systems? How do images and iconic photographs teach ways to “see” and “be seen” as citizens in our liberal-democratic public culture? How do we negotiate power through performance of display, observation, and vision?

Application Deadline is March 15, 2011

All PhD students interested in being exposed to leading communication research and theory are encouraged to apply. Most expenses for accepted candidates will be paid by the Department of Communication at Wayne State University. Covered expenses include airfare, lodging & meals, and course materials. A welcoming reception and social events will give participants time to get to know each other and to discuss and exchange ideas. A small group of doctoral students from throughout the nation will be selected to join this unique program. Download the application form at www.comm.wayne.edu/summerseminar.php.

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Watching Over the Protestors

The protests against Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker’s effort to eliminate collective bargaining for state employees is moving into its third week.  Nearly 100,000 protestors have amassed outside of the Capitol building, the vast majority in opposition to the Governor’s bill.  On Sunday the Governor ordered the Capitol locked down for “safety reasons.”  The police initially indicated that the building would be cleared, but for reasons that are not entirely clear decided to leave those camped out in the rotunda alone even as they closed the doors to the entrance and refused to let anyone without a state issued ID to enter.

By some accounts the Governor’s order to keep “the people” out of the State Capitol is a violation of the State Constitution and one District Court has already issued a restraining order that of this writing has yet to be acted upon, but constitutional or not, it is hardly a wise move to try to silence the voice of the people with such transparently authoritarian methods. According to some reports the Governor has lost significant symbolic capital in his abject refusal to negotiate with the unions, as well as with his more recent efforts to quell all dissent.  But as the photograph above—and many others like it—envision, there is a different and more important point to be made about the ways in which this political contest appears to be unfolding.

The caption to this photograph reads, “Police watch over the small number of protestors that remain in the Capitol rotunda.”  And so they do, quite literally, as they are separated from the protestors in the well of the rotunda by a full story and thus look down upon them.  Notice in this regard too how casual they are, clearly attentive to what is going on below them and yet not threateningly so.  While they carry side arms, no weapons are drawn or at the ready; the riot gear so common in protest imagery in general is noticeably absent.

Of course, the police serve a dual role as both protectors of the public and enforcers of the law, but what is important here is that they look to be more the protector than the enforcer.  Indeed, there is a sense in which the police are the primary focus of the photograph even as they frame the margins of the scene otherwise centered on the protestors, a point underscored by the high and long angle that puts the viewer above and remote from the action below.  Rather than to stand in opposition to the protestors, the police appear to be something of an extension of them, as is common with the center-margin scheme.  And more, while one might ordinarily imagine such a line of sight as distancing the viewer from the scene as a more or less passive (if not also omniscient) observer, here, perhaps because of the location in the State House, it seems to animate a more active, democratic spectatorship: As the police watch over the protestors, so the viewer—now identified with “the people” in the manner of a vox populi, vox dei consciousness—watches over the police.

Notice finally, and perhaps most importantly, that the photograph effectively distances the police from the Governor of Wisconsin. While they have not entirely turned their back on his orders, neither have they completely enacted his will by completely evacuating the rotunda.  And so what the viewer is given to see, perhaps, are the true, legitimate arbiters of state power and authority standing their watch in the way that a democratic government was intended to do, serving as a visible buffer between tyranny and liberty.

Credit:  Scott Olson/Getty Images

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