Exercise: Kingsmead Eyes


Visit the web pages of the Kingsmead Eyes project. Investigate the original 2009 project and the latest Kingsmead Eyes Speak project.

Write notes in your learning log about how the work is presented on the website, in particular the use of mixed media – stills, video and audio.


On the face of it this seemed similar to the PhotoVoice projects I just looked at – a collaborative work where non-photographers (in this case schoolchildren) are given cameras to document their own lives. However, I found it to have more depth and hold my interest much more than the PhotoVoice projects (possibly due to the lack of full projects online for that particular initiative?).


The depth comes from the approach. The project leaders, photographers Gideon Mendel and Crispin Hughes, first spent a week introducing the project and explaining the concepts of photography (both technical and creative, including the role of documentary photography) before letting the children do their own independent shooting.

The aspect of the project workflow that interested me most (being as I am currently fascinated with notions of authorship in documentary photography) was that the children were guided through the editing process for their own images, rating them from 1* to 5*, and encouraged to critique their own work. This led to a much more personally distinctive set of images, without the invisible hand of a curatorial adult/expert.


The mixed media format of the project is a big part of why it is successful. The structure is that each child has their own page, accessed from an index grid, and the page has a combination of photographs (both of and by the child), audio, handwritten poetry (related to one of their own images) and video. One gets a real sense of individual stories being told, however minimally, and the characters of the children shone through. Small things like actually hearing their own voices over clips of their photos makes it much more immersive and engaging than photos alone. I’m not usually a huge fan of video works over still photography, but I think here it really suits the content, and works here extremely well.


Some of the work is surprisingly strong; some of the kids have a natural eye for an interesting shot. I presume they all got the same upfront photography lessons and prompts, but some of them produced genuinely visually interesting images.

The poetry angle was also fascinating; the idea of writing a poem to accompany a photograph would most likely fill the average adult with dread, but 10 year olds are less constrained by convention and have little comprehension of the embarrassment of appearing pretentious that us adults do!

In all, I found this to be an enlightening project that broke free from the norms of documentary photography to produce something that is both distinctive at the level of the whole project, and allows for the individual’s voices to come through. I wonder how many of the participants subsequently become photographers…?


Kingsmead Eyes 2009 http://www.kingsmeadeyesspeak.org/kingsmeadeyes/ (accessed 23/06/2017)

Kingsmead Eyes Speak http://www.kingsmeadeyesspeak.org (accessed 23/06/2017)

Research point: PhotoVoice

PhotoVoice is a charity with the following mission statement:

“PhotoVoice’s vision is for a world in which everybody has the opportunity to represent themselves and tell their own story.

Our mission is promote the ethical use of photography for positive social change, through delivering innovative participatory photography projects. By working in partnership with organisations, communities, and individuals worldwide, we will build the skills and capacity of underrepresented or at risk communities, creating new tools of self-advocacy and communication.” (Photovoice 2017)

In practical terms: it gives cameras, training and mentoring to specific communities for them to document their own circumstances.

from LookOut UK, 2012-13

The site itself is surprisingly (suspiciously?) short on actual photography; each project has a few example shots and lots of explanatory text. Each project has specific objectives, some internal to the project participants (developing self-confidence / self-advocacy, creative and communication skills etc) and some externally-focused (raising awareness etc). The balance is what I found interesting – some of the projects came across as much more about helping the individuals (in a traditional ‘charity’ sense) with the resultant images as by-products.

The course notes ask us to look at “the documentary value and visual qualities” of the images.

Documentary value

In terms of documentary value, the key aspect of PhotoVoice projects is the adherence to the insider viewpoint – there’s an inherent layer of authenticity. The flip side, as discussed in Solomon-Goudeau’s essay Inside/Out (2005) is that the insider can be too close to be objective, and miss observations that an outsider would pick up on.

Visual qualities

In terms of visual qualities (to the extent that this can be ascertained from the limited examples on the site) there is perhaps inevitably an emphasis on ‘straight’, no-frills documentary photography as these photographers were very much amateurs given some guidance by mentors, rather than experienced or gifted photographers.

Multiple photographers leads to a lack of a distinctive visual style, which from a  viewing perspective makes a lot of these projects of limited visual interest, if not already engaged in the subject matter. However, as touched upon earlier, the aim of these projects is not simply to produce documentary photography but more significantly to provide skills, support and agency to the individuals involved. So perhaps they don’t need to be visually distinctive to be ‘successful’ in this context.


To return to one of my pet obsessions: authorship… these are unusual projects in as much as they have multiple, untrained practitioners producing the work. The key ‘author’ in this circumstance is really the editor(s) – selecting images that meet the communication objective, constructing a narrative out of the multiple viewpoints and moments captured. It wasn’t clear to me whether the participants were themselves involved in the editing process or whether PhotoVoice had the final say on image selection (or indeed whether this varies per project). The extent to which any editorial authorship is intentional or reflexive is, of course, a perennial question for any and all documentary photography.


PhotoVoice https://photovoice.org (accessed 23/06/2017)

Solomon-Godeau, A. “Inside/Out” in La Grange, A. (2005) Basic Critical Theory for Photographers. Burlington, MA: Focal Press

Exercise: Post-documentary photography


Read the article ‘Images that Demand Consummation: Postdocumentary Photography, Art and Ethics’ by Ine Gevers (Documentary Now! 2005).

Summarise in your learning log the key points made by the author.


I didn’t get on with this essay particularly well; first of all I found it quite hard going due to its overly complex language, and it took me a few sittings to get through it and digest the line of argument. Once I felt I’d understood its main points I decided that I disagreed with a number of them.

My main issue with the essay, or more specifically the way it is written, is that it generalises to a distracting degree: opinions are attributed to whole groups of people and universal claims are made that are too easily questioned, and I found this tendency to exaggeration diluted the core arguments put forward in the the essay.

As the brief is to summarise the key points I will do so here but can’t resist adding my own commentary alongside, whether I found it insightful or infuriating.


  • Defines post-1970s blurring of disciplines (art/documentary) as ‘post-documentary
  • Focus is “the ethical positions of artists, many of whom make use of documentary photography” (Gevers 2005: 1) [my emphasis]
  • Interested in “stretch[ing] the boundaries of perception in such a way that space is offered to that which exists beyond the stereotype or the already known” (ibid: 1)


  • Starts by framing debate in terms of aesthetics and ethics
  • “In antiquity, aesthetics stood for the capacity to remove yourself from your own framework so you could learn to see the unprecedented from that new viewpoint” (ibid: 1-2)
    • Did it? This is a peculiar definition of aesthetics (“relating to perception by the senses”, OED) that sounds moulded to fit the line of argument
  • “Thoughts about beauty and truth seem to have ended in stalemate” (ibid: 2)
    • I’d be very surprised if thoughts about beauty and truth ever ended
  • Gevers posits that the “function [of aesthetics] of promoting perception oriented towards knowledge and insight is proving to be its opposite; it gets in the way of our view” (ibid: 2)
    • My big beef with the language here, repeated throughout the essay, is that it contradicts another key aspect of the text I agree with…
    • Gevers supports the Barthesian position of the viewer as collaborator (which in turn implies a multiplicity of meaning) yet simultaneously attributes homogenous opinions and behaviours to groups of people en masse – she writes as though she speaks for everyone
    • She uses ‘definitive’ language about matters that are infinitely more nuanced and complex than implied here
  • She closes the introduction with mention of post-documentary photographers that are attempting to foreground ethics over aesthetics in their engagement with their subject matter

Photography: objective, aesthetic, colonial

  • Here she expands on the ‘space beyond stereotypes’ concept mentioned in the preamble, to make the point that too much photography does the opposite: it objectifies
  • Documentary photography got off to a bad start by presenting itself as true and authentic, a reputation that has unravelled over the decades
  • “Although nobody believes any more in the ‘reality effects’ of documentary film or photography, everyone is still expected to behave as though they do.” (ibid: 3)
    • Really? This is another sweeping generalisation that weakens Gevers’ argument; the idea that ‘everyone’ has come to a conclusion about documentary is incredibly simplistic
  • “Representation in its totality is in a crisis” (ibid: 4)
    • I respectfully suggest that this is hyperbole; there are undeniably elements of representation that are questionable, problematic, shifting – but a crisis?


  • Gevers makes a distinction between a documentary photographer and a photographer who uses documentary photography
    • This is the insight that I found the most useful in the whole essay
  • Martha Rosler and Allan Sekula are presented as practitioners who incorporate documentary photography into their work but in a way that holds it up for examination
  • Rosler “manages to subvert such generally accepted qualities as factuality, veracity and objectivity in relation to both the photographic image and the word” (ibid: 5)
    • A fascinating aspect of Rosler’s “The Bowery in two inadequate descriptive systems” (1974/5) – quite apart from the fact that it self-announces as inadequate – is the exclusion of people (it shows empty street juxtaposed with words for drunkenness)
    • In an odd way excluding the people who are nominally the subject of the work is a way of letting them retain their individuality; it’s the ‘space beyond stereotypes’ that Gevers refers to
    • I want to come back to this idea of deliberate exclusion of the subject in relation to my current assignment – a later blog post I think
  • When discussing Sekula, Gevers uses an interesting phrase: “The photographic work never stands by itself.” (ibid: 5)
    • I get this; there’s an extra layer of context that gives the work the deeper meaning that lifts this kind of work above generic documentary photography
    • I am fascinated by this area of photographic study: how and why documentary photography ‘works’ (or doesn’t), and how this has been / is being examined by photographers / photographic artists

Representation – interpretation – counter-presentation

  • Gevers discusses how documents of inhumanity can be ‘distorted’ by presentation to an audience, using the example of the S-21 archive of photographs covering Cambodian genocide
  • She asserts that the presentation of the photographs as first of all an exhibition and subsequently a book (The Killing Fields, Niven & Riley 1995) irreparably changed the archive: “Suddenly, instead of something that concerned everyone, it now seemed to manifest a clear class difference between the prisoners sentenced to death as representatives of naked life and those observing from a safe distance.” (ibid: 6)
    • I confess that I either fail to understand the point being made, or if I do understand it correctly, I disagree with it – Gevers seems to suggest that the very act of sharing such images is divisive and perpetuates difference
    • Gevers doubles down on this aversion to public presentation of documentary material by accusing MoMA of being “oblivious to [the S-21 archive’s] problematic role in the politics of representation” (ibid: 6) which strikes me as a subjective opinion rather than an evidenced fact
    • “The public, however, regarded the photographs as art, an aesthetic appreciation that was nurtured with no shame whatsoever. Visitor numbers did not lie, after all” (ibid: 6) – this was the extract that I found most problematic in the whole essay; again, false universality in projecting a reaction onto an entire viewing pubic, compounded here by the non sequitur of visitor numbers that implies that its very popularity is proof that it was misunderstood

Alienation as strategy

  • Gevers uses the 9/11 attacks on the Twin Towers as an example of how, in an age where we are numbed by visual imagery (she mentions Debord’s Spectacle but I was also put in mind of Baudrillard’s hyper-reality), a presentational strategy of not depicting things visually can be more effective than image overload
  • She uses Michael Moore’s use of black screen in his Fahrenheit 9/11 documentary film and Alfredo Jaar’s 2002 installation on Rwandan genocide Lament of the Images (where only one photo was visible and the rest were sealed in black boxes) as examples of such ‘negative presentation’
    • This passage put me in mind of an exhibition I saw in Arles last year by the name of Nothing but Blue Skies (2016) which collated artists’ responses to 9/11 – one whole room was newspaper front pages and another was floor-to-ceiling looped TV views footage, so I really got the sensation of image overload that Gevers refers to. The most interesting exhibit was a video by Michal Kosakowski called Just Like the Movies, a skilfully edited compilation of clips from Hollywood blockbusters that recreate the narrative of the New York attacks, so it ‘shows’ you what happened but doesn’t show you the real thing, only the movie scenes that it reminded you of
  • Gevers takes this complaint of over-stimulation of the senses to an extreme in saying that “the whole idea of ‘contemplation’ has become implausible” (ibid: 8)
    •  I find this hyperbolic in the same way I find much of Debord and Baudrillard – they are either catastrophists or deliberately exaggerate for effect

‘The artist’ in aesthetic terms

  • Gevers quotes Alain Badiou on the question of ethics and ‘truth’, concluding that “Truth is therefore not something that can be communicated, it is not just a matter of opinion. Truth is something you encounter (in the form of an event)” (ibid: 9)
    • Without disappearing down a philosophical rabbit hole, is Gevers differentiating between the truth of an event and the “truth” of the representation of that event”?

Personal is political

  • Gevers returns to Rosler to pick up on her stance that documentary photography has moved beyond ‘Grand Narratives’ and onto smaller and more personal subjects
    • Generalisation: both ends of the continuum and a variety of intermediate hybrids continue to exist
  • She moves this line of argument round to an appreciation of Barthes’ concept of punctum: “It is up to the viewer as co-author to give weight to the image” (ibid: 10)
    • I certainly go along with this line of thinking – Gevers gives one of the best articulations of the experience of punctum that I have read:
    • “That is the moment when we no longer just appear to be collecting information in an appropriately distanced manner – aesthetically in the narrow sense of the word – but when, in a moment of being affected, we add something to it” (ibid: 10)
  • This is where the “consummation” of the essay title becomes clearer: the viewer consummates rather than simply consumes the image
    • However, my view on the punctum is that it can’t be deliberately inserted into an image as it is inherently the role of the viewer to bring it to the image
  • What I think she is saying here is that this is the kind of image where aesthetics and ethics are reconciled
    • But to my previous point, this reconciliation is an individual, uncontrolled response and not a universal, controlled one
    • I don’t read this essay as instruction on how to achieve such reconciliation, more a recognition that it can occur

That was heavy going. It provoked a lot of thought. I found some key insights to agree with and want to explore more – and I found a maddening degree of over-simplification that eroded the credibility of the overall line of argument.


Gevers, I. (2005) ‘Images that Demand Consummation: Postdocumentary Photography, Art and Ethics’ in Documentary Now!

Exercise: Jim Goldberg’s Open See


Listen to Jim Goldberg talking about Open See and his exhibition at the Photographers’ Gallery.

Visit Goldberg’s website and reflect on how or if it works as a documentary project within the gallery space.


This subject continues the debate that I touched on at the end of my last blog post, namely whether it is appropriate to consider documentary photography as art.

To repeat my primary stance on this: it’s about the intent of the presentation:

  • If the intent of displaying documentary photographs on a wall is in line with the original intent of the work (i.e. to inform the viewer of some reality) then it is as valid as any other distribution method, such as newspapers, magazines or books
  • If the intent of displaying documentary photographs on a wall is to sell them as pieces of art to decorate the homes or business of buyers, or as investments – I personally find this problematic

The simplistic distinction I proffered in my previous post was that between a museum curator and an art dealer. At a basic level the word ‘art’ itself can have two overlapping but different meanings in everyday discourse: it can describe a creative output communicated from an artist to an audience, and/or it can describe a commodity being traded. It’s useful to separate these two definitions in one’s mind when discussing documentary photography as art.

I am minded to note the two positive aspects of documentary-as-art in the course notes, as they are points that I had not previously considered that help me understand the place of documentary photography in the art world:

  • The distribution and exposure of art has been democratised and made more accessible
  • The very commodification of the documentary photograph as an art object has generated a new source of income and funding which feeds back into the production of more documentary work

The former point aligns with the informative intent – the gallery wall is a valid communication channel for the work. The latter point assuages ethical concerns about the commodity status of art, to a degree anyway.

Open See

I like Jim Goldberg’s work; I have a signed print of his on my study wall as I type this. His Open See project is one I hadn’t looked at in detail before but subject-wise it very much fits in with the Magnum Photos ethos of photojournalism. In terms of content it is somewhat prescient, prefiguring the focus on Greece’s immigrant population some years before it made major headlines.

Ukraine, 2006 by Jim Goldberg

The communication intent is evident, and there is a creative, expressive overlay to this work that makes it easier to accept as a crossover into ‘fine art’.

If the work is sufficiently visually interesting it can draw the viewer into the message; if it is too abstract it can fail to land its punch. The Ignatieff quote in the course notes articulates the necessary balancing act well:

“Photography which loses sight of documentation risks becoming mannerism, while photography which loses the ambition of art loses the possibility of becoming unforgettable.” (2003)

There is a category of  work that I call ‘expressive documentary’, where the underlying reality of the subject matter is approached in a creative way (echoing John Grierson’s concise 1933 definition of documentary as “a creative treatment of actuality”). A lot of Goldberg’s earlier work was what I would call more ‘straight’ documentary but Open See saw him experimenting a little more. I have no problem understanding how this work is simultaneously documentary and art.

A more problematic example

A trickier case to examine would be when the work has little or no creative artifice, only a serious communication intent, and yet ends up as a commodity to be bought and sold in ‘the art world’. Simon Norfolk’s Staircase at Auschwitz (1998) was by far the most affecting image I saw in person in the last year.

Staircase at Auschwitz, 1998 by Simon Norfolk
Staircase at Auschwitz, 1998 by Simon Norfolk

I saw it at an exhibition at the Michael Hoppen Gallery in London. An art dealer’s gallery, not a museum; it had a price tag in the accompanying catalogue. The idea that this image was on display at least partly to attract a buyer made me a little queasy.


Open See at TPG http://vimeo.com/22120588 (accessed 07/03/2017)

Open See http://www.opensee.org (accessed 07/03/2017)

Exercise: The Judgment Seat of Photography


Read the article ‘The Judgment Seat of Photography’ (Christopher Phillips 1982)

Add to your learning log the key research materials referenced in the text.


This is an enlightening essay on photography as art, built around the historical work of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York. It is not, however, specifically about documentary photography as art. Certain aspects of the essay did strike me as relevant and thought-provoking and I will extract these below.

The instruction in the exercise brief to add the referenced research materials to my learning log is somewhat odd: the text has no less than 81 footnotes and only a handful of these came across as being strongly relevant to my current studies.

My preference for how to respond to this essay is to:

  • Discuss the different approaches by MoMA’s first three Directors of Photography and how these relate to the debate of photography as art
  • Discuss the recontextualisation of photography in the gallery/museum, specifically the role of the curator vs the role of the photographer
  • Add my own thoughts on documentary photography being treated as art

MoMAs place in photographic history

Without crediting MoMA with single-handedly elevating photography to the status of art in the 20th century, it is difficult to imagine exactly how the history of photography as an art form would have unfolded had the museum never existed.

MoMA’s first Director of Photography was Beaumont Newhall (1908–93) and my simple take on his tenure (1940–47) is that he was, in a sense, ahead of his time. He saw the potential of photography as art but struggled to articulate this to both the museum’s management and its visitors.

Phillips’ argument is that Newall deferred to the ‘cult value’ of photography over its ‘exhibition value’ (the two kinds of value described by Walter Benjamin in The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, 1969). He treated photographs as pieces of art and emulated painting’s modes of presentation; he emphasised the ‘art credentials’ of the photograph by bringing attention to the unique qualities of the materials used and the variability of the printing process. His first MoMA exhibition with Ansel Adams was accompanied by text that introduce “notions of rarity, authenticity and personal expression – already the vocabulary of print connoisseurship is being brought into play” (Phillips 1982: 36).

Newhall’s prolific curatorial output (almost 30 exhibitions in seven years) seems with hindsight to have been a breakneck attempt to educate the US public on the artistic potential of the photograph as quickly as possible. He curated shows covering the history of the medium, the “canonisation of masters” (ibid: 38) and emerging talents such as Levitt and Cartier-Bresson. But it was possibly all a little too much too soon, and he tried too hard to borrow characteristics from other art forms.

Edward Steichen (1897–1973) was already a renowned photographer when he took over the MoMA role (1947–62), with a very different approach. He had a highly democratic, populist vision for photography and did not care for the notion of photography as an autonomous fine art.

His tenure was marked with an emphasis on Benjamin’s derided ‘exhibition value’ of photography; Steichen cared little for uniqueness and ‘aura’ and instead positively embraced the reproducibility of the photograph as a means of illustration – the photograph as mass media object.

Steichen’s exhibitions (including, most famously, Family of Man in 1955) were thematic collections that elevated the role of the curator above that of the photographer (a move that triggers interesting discussions on the notion of authorship and context – of which more below). He held no reverence for the sanctity of the original print or the personal expression that this had implied: “The photographers complied, for the most part, signing over to the museum the right to crop, print, and edit their images.” (Phillips 1982: 48). His installations drew comparisons with magazine layouts more than art galleries, and were considered more accessible to the general public as a result.

Although hired directly by Steichen, MoMA’s third Director of Photography (1962–91), John Szarkowski (1925–2007), again took a different approach to his predecessor. He returned, to an extent, to the ‘cult value’ of photography – white walls, uniform print sizes and wooden frames made a comeback. He built on Steichen’s intervening populism to reintroduce some of Newall’s underlying principles of photography as art, but with an increasingly contemporary twist.

Where Newall had emphasised the uniqueness of individual prints as art objects by comparing them to other art forms, Szarkowski was more interested in the uniqueness of the medium itself. His seminal work The Photographer’s Eye (1964) deconstructed the photograph into five formal elements intrinsic to photography (the detail, the thing itself, time, the frame and the vantage point). His work with photographers was more respectful of individual practitioners with their own ‘voices’ than Steichen’s subjugating curatorial approach.

The photographers championed by Szarkowski, such as Arbus, Winogrand, Friedlander and Eggleston, all worked in what one might term self-expressive documentary rather than traditional social documentary photography. They were all investigating the real world but from a viewpoint inside their own heads.

For me, Szarkowski stood on the shoulders of Newall and Steichen to complete the circuitous journey to accepting photography as a branch of fine art; maybe we had to go through the earlier two phases first and Szarkowski was the right person to bring it to fruition at that point in time.

Curation: recontextualisation and reinterpretation

Stepping back from the detail of these three phases, there is a connecting thread here of recontextualisation: in all three tenures MoMA was at the forefront of attempts not necessarily to promote photography as art but certainly to take photographs out of their original context and present them in a new way. Newall and Szarkowski favoured presentation akin to paintings while Steichen preferred more modern, magazine-like installations. In all cases, photographs were being recontextualised by a curator, and the key difference is the extent of curatorial involvement (interference?).

All photography is inherently taking things out of context. In the words of Garry Winogrand: “When you put four edges around some facts, you change those facts.” (date unknown). Szarkowski himself has this to say on the subject: “To quote out of context is the essence of the photographer’s craft.” (1964: 70).

The interesting and potentially problematic aspect of this context question is the additional layer of a curator – if the original photographer is already making authorial decisions on inclusion/exclusion at the level of the individual frame and the project body of work, these are potentially subsequently diluted by the selection decisions of the curator, working to their own authorial intentions. Or maybe the original authorial decisions are amplified rather than diluted – who knows?

There is a kind of parallel with the role of the picture editor in journalism – the editorial selection decision ultimately trumps the picture-taking one, in terms of what is presented to the audience. One key difference between a picture editor and a curator is the objective of the curation exercise: the former is trying to best illustrate a news story, the latter is trying to articulate some coherent larger communication message through ‘art’. But in both cases, the press picture editor and museum curator become what Phillips calls an “orchestrator of meaning” (Phillips 1982: 38).

At MoMA Steichen was the most extreme example of this, collating photographs as illustrations of predefined messages:

“To prise photographs from their original contexts, to discard or alter their captions, to recrop their borders in the enforcement of a unitary meaning, to reprint them for dramatic impact, to redistribute them in new narrative chains consistent with a predetermined thesis – thus one might roughly summarize Steichen’s operating procedure.” (ibid: 46)

Szarkowski may have paid more attention to the self-expression of the original photographer but ultimately is still sculpting his own ‘version’ (of Arbus, of Friedlander, etc) from the available work.

Documentary photography as fine art

The essay doesn’t cover this subject specifically or thoroughly but the preceding course notes do raise some points that I’d like to address.

The art curation process described above can, and often is, applied to documentary photographs. This brings ethical questions into play: is it acceptable that images of death, destruction, squalor, sickness and depravity are converted into art objects?

It’s possible and hopefully useful here to make a distinction between the objectives of the museum and the gallery:

  • An artwork in a museum is a public presentation, to be experienced (enjoyed / educated by)
  • An artwork in a gallery is a commodity, to be bought and sold

My personal view is that documentary photography in the informative environment of a museum is a valid and ethical communication form (whether it is ‘art’ is another question). Documentary photography in a gallery, with a price tag attached and wealthy art enthusiasts sipping champagne before it, pondering an investment – that is unethical.

To an extent I believe that some photographers allow or even encourage their documentary photography work to become treated as fine art. If the intent of the image is to communicate a ‘truth’ then why not produce limitless low-cost reproductions? By restricting the reproduction and display of their own work, photographers are effectively participating in the art market with their documentary images.

Luc Delahaye, for example, is one photographer who straddles the worlds of documentary and fine art – he shoots on a large format camera and exhibits wall-sized prints that sell for thousands of dollars, yet the subject matter is the kind of thing seen daily in newspapers, magazines and on news TV – bomb sites, angry mobs, bodies. I find this somewhat distasteful, I must admit.

To close with my take on Benjamin’s theory of two types of art value:

  • Documentary photography should have exhibition value
  • But I’m not convinced it should have cult value


Phillips, C. (1982) ‘The Judgement Seat of Photography’ in October, Vol 22 (Autumn 1982) pp 27–63

Benjamin, W. (1969) ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,’ trans. Harry Zohn,in Illuminations, New York: Schocken Books.

Szarkowski, J. (2007) The Photographer’s Eye. 2nd edn. New York: Museum of Modern Art.

Exercise: Cruel + Tender


The 2003 exhibition Cruel + Tender was the first major exhibition at the Tate dedicated exclusively to photography. Rather than adopting a chronological approach, the Tate opted to arrange the work of living and dead documentary photographers in a more fluid sequence. The aim was to encourage the audience to make connections between historical and contemporary documentary photography.

Look at the Cruel + Tender brochure. Listen to interviews with two of the featured photographers, Rineke Dijkstra and Fazal Sheikh. Add relevant notes to your learning log.


Exhibition in general

It’s an interesting place in the course notes to cover this exhibition, as in a sense it goes back to documentary photography basics – one could almost imagine it being in the early part of the first section as a context-setting exercise. Having said that, it also makes sense at this juncture, as it specifically talks about how documentary photography has been reinvigorated through the exhibition format in the last 15-20 years. As a bonus, it’s good to be reminded of some of the key aspects of documentary photography that we have covered during the rest of this course, collated here in a digestible format.

The teaching kit brochure (and by extension the exhibition itself) covers such topics as:

  • Portraiture and how to represent a person through photography
  • The problematic nature of documentary in relation to ideas about truth
  • The role of the viewer and how we are implicated in the images we look at
  • The use of series of photographs to build the way we ‘read’ works

The brochure quotes Charles Caffin from 1901:

“There are two distinct roads in photography – the utilitarian and the aesthetic: the goal of the one being a record of facts, and the other an expression of beauty.”

It also adds a third road: conceptual photography. I believe it’s become apparent in the 100+ years since Caffin made his statement that the distinction between these ‘roads’ is increasingly blurred; many works manage to be both aesthetically pleasing and informative, others manage to be disruptive / conceptual whilst still being ‘expressions of beauty’. No doubt if I thought about it for long enough I could find a photographer that manages to fuse all three categories of photography in their work.

Although I didn’t see the exhibition at the time, it seems that its main success was in revitalising documentary photography by presenting it as a genre that transcended the specific issues and had matured into a valuable form of visual communication.

Rineke Dijkstra

I’ve been familiar with both these series (Mothers and Bullfighters) before now but this is the first time I’ve discovered that they have been exhibited together. I’d say that Dijkstra falls partly into the third category mentioned above, as in there’s a conceptual foundation underpinning the documentary work.

There were two interesting things I took away from Dijkstra’s decision to juxtapose these two sets of images, and in some ways they both raise wider points about good documentary photography:

  • Their similarities:
    • Not just aesthetically…
    • … but also thematically (people in the aftermath of scary, life-changing, maybe even life-threatening situations)
    • From this I took the value in having a distinctive personal voice
  • How they subvert clichés:
    • The ‘man = fighter’ and ‘woman = nurturer’ clichés are recognised by Dijkstra but she points out that in both cases she is showing another side to the stereotype
    • The men are not macho but looking slightly shaken, ill-at-ease
    • The women don’t look like natural born mothers but look similarly unsettled and in some cases quite petrified
    • From this I took the importance of presenting the less obvious, less normally-seen side of situations

Fazal Sheikh

Sheikh is perhaps more of a traditional documentarian in that he eschews the kind of conceptual artifice that makes Dijkstra’s work so striking (but also a little un-documentary, if that makes sense). Sheikh’s work is based on being embedded in situations and returning to his subjects over time. He does this to achieve more natural and ‘real’ images once any feelings of mistrust have dissolved. He’s also surprisingly democratic in how much he lets the subjects drive how they are represented.

Abdia Abdi Khalil and her son Hameed, Somali refugee camp, Mandera, Kenya, 1992.jpg
Abdia Abdi Khalil and her son Hameed, Somali refugee camp, Mandera, Kenya, 1992 by Fazal Sheikh

His approach underlines the complexities of real-life situations and the necessary simplification that documentary photography generally imposes. It comes across that seeing his work in an exhibition (or maybe a book) format would provide the depth and context necessary to see his subjects as individuals rather than just representatives / metonyms.


Cruel + Tender https://www.oca-student.com/sites/default/files/CruelTender.pdf (accessed 21/11/2016)

Rineke Dijkstra http://www.tate.org.uk/context-comment/video/rineke-dijkstra-cruel-and-tender (accessed 21/11/2016)

Fazal Sheikh http://www.tate.org.uk/context-comment/video/fazal-sheikh-cruel-and-tender (accessed 21/11/2016)

Research point: Primitive typologies

The course handbook suggests that we research some of the work mentioned in this section, with the specific questions:

“Can you find any examples of work carried out amongst indigenous peoples that, in your view, honestly document the lives of their subjects without falling into some of the traps that we’ve been discussing here? If so, how has the photographer achieved this?” (course notes: 96)

It aided my analysis to parse out the ‘traps’ discussed in the notes:

  • Romanticism (e.g. the ‘noble savage’)
  • De/re-contextualisation (e.g. primitive nudity -> erotica)
  • Primivitism / infantilisation (projecting a lack of intelligence/maturity onto subjects)
  • Dehumanisation (treating subjects as specimens not individuals)

I certainly found all of these traps had, to varying degrees, been fallen into in the Tribal Portraits catalogue, but I have covered this already so will focus on the new artists introduced in the subsequent notes.

Peter Lavery comes in for some criticism for his decontextualised tribal portraits, and to be honest I think it is justified. He pretty much falls into all four of the above traps, notably the last: there’s an almost Victorian sense of ‘collecting specimens’ in his aesthetic, with the mono palette and the velvet backdrop.

Interestingly, his website explains his objective as quite the opposite of what I perceived: “to make portraits for himself of people he met in his travels and who interested him not as types but as individuals”.

The decontextualisation is explained thus: “I wanted to play down the exoticism of my subjects […] I knew that I was interested in the being under the body of paint or feathers and primitive weapons’” – yet to me the taking of the individual out of their environment enhances, not reduces, the exoticism. By presenting them against a plain black backdrop, Lavery is drawing attention to, not looking past, the ‘paint and feathers’. The fact that the portraits aren’t captioned with individuals’ names further strengthens the argument that these are types more than they are individuals.

The African work of Juan Echeverria has some parallels with that of Lavery, in as much as it decontextualises the subject from their environment and places them against a plain backdrop for examination. As with some of the work in Tribal Portraits (notably Lenhert & Landrock) the nudity takes on a different reading in the studio context; these subjects are not so much being observed as gazed upon.


I found the work of David Bruce to be more satisfactory and respectful, falling into fewer of the clichés. Yes, he uses black and white and that gives the images the ‘timeless’ look that encourages a romanticised interpretation, but on the whole he does less decontextualising and more shooting in the natural environment. Also, he doesn’t produce many gratuitous images of bare female flesh, something that other photographers can all too easily fall back on.

Researching contemporary practitioners in this genre, it seems that Jimmy Nelson has it all sewn up (or is a whizz at SEO) as he is every Google result on the first page for the term “photography indigenous tribes”…! This seems to largely be around Before They Pass Away, his long-term project he has undertaken to capture the world’s remaining indigenous tribes before they disappear.

This self-appointed chronicler of the soon-to-be-lost is unashamedly an art photographer more than a documentarian, and makes no bones about the aesthetic imperative in his work – his pictures are “intended to be aesthetic rather than factual”, and in his own words, “There is no sociology, no statistics. It’s how I see the world […] Yes, it’s idealistic.” (Guardian 2014)

Nelson has avoided some of the clichés by choosing a more positive and less patronising aesthetic than most – he makes the tribes look strong and proud. Ironically, he received much criticism (including the Guardian article quoted above) for the representations being “false and damaging” in their idealised, romanticised aesthetic. You can’t please all the people all the time.

Jacob Maentz is a good example of a photographer that has captured various indigenous peoples without resorting to clichés. He shoots in colour, which gives a more ‘real’ and contemporary feel to the work, and shoots unposed, observed scenes of the subjects in their natural environments.

He can sometimes veer towards idealised, beautifully-composed images and seldom shows particularly hard-hitting or problematic subject matter, but overall I think he does a better job than most of showing an ‘honest’ depiction of these primitive societies. For one thing, his detailed captions describe not only individuals but their circumstances, making this more of a set of images of people than of ‘types’.

For me there are a few criteria that might make a project on indigenous tribes more likely to be seen as ‘honest’:

  • Shot in the natural environment
  • Unposed/observed
  • Colour looks more ‘authentic’ than black and white for this kind of work (unlike the traditional view of documentary photography?)
  • Naming the subjects in captions leads to a more human connection with the viewer, and reduces the risk of seeing the subject as ‘specimen’

The insider/outsider debate

Looking at this from a particular school of thought – that of Abigail Solomon-Godeau in her 1994 essay Inside/Out – there is a fundamental dilemma within the question of whether an indigenous people can be accurately portrayed.

In the essay (summarised by La Grange, 2005) Solomon-Godeau contrasts the two approaches of documentary photography: pictures taken by ‘insiders’ (authentic, confessional but subjective, self-absorbed) and those taken by ‘outsiders’ (touristic, voyeuristic, exploitative, objective, sometimes unrepresentative). By definition, projects on indigenous people are by outsiders – because the insiders are sufficiently primitive as to not have the technology to make photographs.

Thus a true insider’s view is inherently impossible; once a society has the faculties to record itself, it is no longer primitive.

Therefore, the best that can be expected is a sufficiently empathetic outsider, self-aware enough to recognise reflexivity and authorship and stay as true as possible to a neutral observer stance.

One could make the case though that even being observed by an outsider, however respectfully, irreparably changes the community – classic ‘observer effect’ in action.

Thus I conclude that it is ultimately impossible for photographers to “honestly document the lives of their subjects”, unfortunately.


Peter Lavery http://peterlavery.com/portfolio/humankind/ (accessed 12/10/2016)

David Bruce http://davidbrucephotography.co.za/juhoansi-bushmen/ (accessed 12/10/2016)

Juan Echeverria http://www.juanecheverria.com (accessed 12/10/2016)

Jimmy Nelson http://www.beforethey.com (accessed 12/10/2016)

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2014/oct/29/jimmy-nelson-indigenous-people-survival-international (accessed 12/10/2016)

Jacob Maentz http://www.jacobimages.com (accessed 12/10/2016)

La Grange, A. (2005) Basic Critical Theory for Photographers. Burlington, MA: Focal Press

Exercise: Tribal Portraits


Browse the catalogue Tribal Portraits: Vintage and Contemporary Photographs from the African Continent, Bernard J Shapero Rare Books.

Write a brief reflective commentary in your learning log.


Though the subject matter is broadly similar, a close look at the range of images in this catalogue reveals several different approaches to the subjects, and provoke accordingly different reactions.

The ‘best’ images to me – and by that I mean most interesting and informative – were those by George Rodger and Mirella Ricciardi (more on her later). Rodger combined unusual subject matter such as tribal rituals with an excellent photographer’s eye. The ‘keyhole’ image chosen for the cover is perhaps the most striking image in the whole collection. The keyhole also works as a visual metaphor for looking in on another society.

Rodger Keyhole.jpg
The Nubas of Kordofan, Southern Sudan, 1949 by George Rodger

There’s inevitably a sense of ‘othering’ going on, as there is with all colonial photography to a degree, but Rodger’s images are of legitimate historical interest and largely respectful of the subjects.

The other photographer whose work caught my eye was Mirella Ricciardi. Her work is in the same curious-but-respectful space as Rodgers but with even more of an obvious eye for a striking composition.

All shot in the late 1960s, Ricciardi’s images seem to seek to portray the subjects as both more human (ordinary) and more beautiful (extraordinary) than the other – male – photographers in the catalogue. I came away from this wanting to know more about Ricciardi and her work.

A few others stood out as treating their subjects (visually at least) with a certain amount of respect mixed in with the curiosity. Georg Haekel and Mervyn Cowie stood out in this regard, though their compositions are less engaging than Rodger’s or Ricciardi’s.

Stephane Graff was an interesting one: a contemporary artist, his work included here is a handful of portraits with the subject’s faces obscured, and one nude (again with face obscured) that shifts his style towards generic erotica. Indeed, looking at his other work online, he does take a reasonable amount of erotic photography and the Africa work seems tangental to his regular style.

The other contemporary photographer in the catalogue, Antoine Schneck, is more respectful and creative.

A few of the photographers here, such as C. Vincenti, Pascal Sebah, Seydou Keita and a number of anonymous photographers, worked in studios rather than out in the lived environment, which I found a little odd. If the intent was to observe the people, to do so in their own environment would seem most natural; moving subjects to a studio implies more of a typological than anthropological interest.

There was a subset of these images, thankfully small, that struck me as thinly-disguised fetish material, soft porn for the colonial era. Lehnert & Landrock’s work in particular fell into this category. There is no legitimate justification for the studio nudes in such poses, it’s simply satisfying prurient curiosity. To some extent, all of the photographers here may have exploited their subjects, but it is in these lascivious images that this exploitation is so overt and unsettling.

In summary, this catalogue demonstrates that there’s a huge range of approaches in which photographers have captured African tribes since the 19th century, from romantic/nostalgic anthropology, through respectful curiosity, to the simply voyeuristic. None gives the ‘full story’, of course, but merely points to the multiple ways there are to approach any subject matter.

So what was the attraction? Not so much in taking these pictures – as there does seem to have been a legitimate anthropological interest underpinning most (not all) of the work on show here – but in the viewing of them by the public? A large part will no doubt have been the novelty of the unclothed body in the generally prudish first world. But beyond the potential sexual interest, is there something inherently attractive in primitive living? Does such a bare, simple lifestyle appeal to human nature on a subliminal level?


TribalPortraits https://www.oca-student.com/sites/default/files/oca-content/key-resources/res-files/tribalportraits.pdf (accessed 11/10/2016)

Exercise: BPB 2008


Read the two essays in the BPB 2008 programme and look at the work the curator selected for the exhibition.

Write a short press release of around 250 words in your learning log – in your own words.


“Memory of Fire: The War of Images & The Images of War” at the 2008 Brighton Photo Biennial

The third Brighton Photo Biennial, curated by writer and critic Julian Stallabrass, brings together historical, contemporary and commissioned works from over 35 photographers, all looking at aspects of how war has been – and is currently being – depicted photographically.

Taking the Iraq War as its contemporary reference point, the exhibition looks at how the use of photographic imagery has changed, paradoxically becoming more narrow and controlled while the rest of the world gets more open and connected. It contrasts the highly sanitised versions from embedded photographers with the broader and more neutral chronicling of the untethered ‘unilaterals’ working in war zones.

The works on display also take a critical look at the political control over visual imagery, and the extent to which warring states use still and moving images not only to justify wars to their own peoples, but as audiovisual shows of immense power to their enemies – ‘shock and awe’ as weapons of war.

Photographers such as Simon Norfolk, Paul Seawright, Joel Meyerowitz and Sophie Ristelhueber circumnavigate the difficulties of in situ war photography by choosing to instead document the aftermath of war. As Sarah James puts it in her essay to accompany the exhibition, “the technological nature of today’s warfare has resulted in a war that is nearly impossible to document as it happens.”

The static, unpopulated scenes of deserted war zones serve a different purpose to traditional conflict photography; their resemblance to landscapes invites contemplation more than compassion or horror.

“Memory of Fire: The War of Images & The Images of War” is at the 2008 Brighton Photo Biennial at various venues from 3rd October to 11th November 2008


BPB 2008 programme https://www.oca-student.com/sites/default/files/oca-content/key-resources/res-files/bpb2008.pdf (accessed 03/10/2016)

Exercise: To print or not to print


Read Claire Cozens’ Guardian article about Guerrero’s photograph [of human remains in the 2004 Madrid bombings].

What would you have done had you been the editor of a British broadsheet newspaper?

A similar case revolving around a photograph of a dead Iraqi soldier in the Gulf War prompted Michael Ignatieff, the author of Magnum Degrees, to write and reflect on the ethics of photojournalism. Read ‘But Should You Print It?’


Pablo Torres Guerrero photograph

The controversial image featured a bloodied limb in the foreground, which different UK newspapers treated differently:

  • Times, Daily Telegraph, Sun and Daily Mail airbrushed/cloned out the limb altogether
  • Independent and Daily Mirror printed the photo in black and white
  • Guardian desaturated the body part to grey

My view is that none of these responses was the most appropriate.

I agree with the Guardian’s deputy editor of news that the original image “put us over the threshold”, but I found all of the above responses to have fudged the issue in different ways.

  • Those who de-emphasised it using colour didn’t go far enough
    • as they still showed it
  • Those who airbrushed it out went too far
    • as they had visually manipulated the material too much for what is supposed to be a photojournalistic image

I can think of two ways in which the photo could have been used without either of the above issues arising:

1. An overt visual censoring via a black bar covering the body part. Text accompanying the photo could explain the censorship (on the grounds of both respect for the victim and the sensibilities of the readers). This is, in my view, the most ‘honest’ alternative:

Pablo Torres Guerrero 2004 – censored version

2. Even more simply, a cropped version could have got over the same sense of carnage:

Pablo Torres Guerrero 2004 – cropped version

‘But Should You Print It?’

This article by Michael Ignatieff raised a few interesting issues that I hadn’t yet come across in this debate. He starts with listing the four areas of sensitivity in photographic ethics: violence, privacy intrusion, decency and faking.

Faking would seem to cover the Times, Daily Telegraph, Sun and Daily Mail treatment of the Guerrero image above, and I agree with the author’s stance on such manipulations: “They cannot be detected. They must always be admitted. The credibility of photojournalism must not be eroded by covert manipulation” (Ignatieff 200?). This leads me to wonder: would the above UK newspapers have been exonerated by adding a disclaimer admitting the manipulation?

The bulk of the article is about violent imagery. It picks apart aspects of the argument, such as whether it is right to take, publish and award prizes to images of violence and suffering (he implies his responses are yes, yes and no respectively).

He also touches on the desensitisation debate with his consideration of how one judges when (and how often) to use violent imagery:

“Photographs of violence do cause distress to many people and that has sometimes to be accepted; but to inflict distress at random is to weaken the case for doing it at all. Circumstances must determine cases, and certainty is elusive.” (ibid)

He also suggests that the geographic scope of a news outlet can move the line of acceptability, with a national newspaper being able to ‘get away with’ more shocking imagery than a local one: “A smaller community may expect its paper to bind wounds, not expose them.” (ibid). This phenomenon of sensitivity increasing with proximity has been observed at an international level before, but maybe it also atomises down to a community level.

One of the most interesting aspects of the article is the checklist of four tests that he applies to controversial imagery:

  1. Is the event of sufficient social or historic importance to justify the shock?
  2. Is the objectionable detail necessary to understand the subject matter?
  3. Does the subject freely consent?
  4. Is the photograph expressive of humanity?

He asserts that an image has to meet at least one, not all of the four. Applying the list to the Madrid image, I’d say that it may meet 1 and 4 but does not meet 2 and 3.

Where Ignatieff’s article goes a little further than I expected is in his discussion of the specific photo by Kenneth Jarecke of the incinerated Iraqi soldier. Ignatieff moves beyond ethical issues and into moral ones, highlighting the subtle difference between the two. He justifies the publication of the photo (in the UK and France, but not in the US) as he believes that the Western reader must face up to the fact that this war was supported by a significant proportion (possibly the majority) of the populations of the Western powers engaged in it, and that the ‘true horror’ of a war should be shown to those who support it:

“It is right that we should contemplate the results of our convictions … The concept that war is horrible is altogether different from the stunning, practical realisation of horror we have willed.” (ibid)

I may be paraphrasing more than Ignatieff would like, but he seems to be saying that a fifth justification for horrific imagery is this: Does it educate people about the negative consequences of their beliefs?


Editors ‘clean up’ bomb photo http://www.theguardian.com/media/2004/mar/12/pressandpublishing.spain (accessed 29/09/2016)

But Should You Print It? https://www.oca-student.com/sites/default/files/oca-content/key-resources/res-files/shouldyouprint.pdf (accessed 29/09/2016)

The War Photo No One Would Publish http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2014/08/the-war-photo-no-one-would-publish/375762/ (accessed 03/10/2016)