The opinions expressed in this essay are the author’s own.
by Lisa Rathje, Executive Director, Local Learning
What are we asking of a student when we ask for a photograph?
Are we looking for a truth of who they are? A text that may be interpreted, or a good story that requires keen composition? Does photography offer opportunities for truth as a deep self-assessment, or does it offer a chance for us to learn more about an/other? Perhaps our assignments will direct student attention to the light and texture that will best illustrate and frame a subject, or teach documentation that becomes an archival item to record a moment in time and space.
Consideration of just one of these questions shows the possibility inherent with the inclusion of photography in a class assignment. As a folklorist working in education, ethnography forms the basis of my teaching toolkit. A research tool, ethnography engages documentation—including photography, interviews, and writing to discover, describe, and interpret. As an inquiry method, it may affirm and create pathways to cultural knowledge and diverse perspectives outside the standardized textbook. Traditional Arts Education helps students better understand multiple points of view, which can lead to learning and demonstrating empathy, tolerance of difference, better sense of self, and a feeling of connectedness to others. Self-identity/knowledge is an additional, important way folklife and traditional arts add to Social-Emotional Learning.
But there are pitfalls. To ask inner-city youth to produce their story has already been done, often to the ends of creating “that” image for the teacher or for a public that yearns to learn more about a culture that they do not understand. Let’s consider this response from a high school student when I asked her to describe some characteristics of her neighborhood in one of our first sessions together. She replied: “What do you want to know about, the drugs, the pimps, how dirty it is? I can tell you all about it. I used to sell crack because it was the only good money on our block ’til I saw a 14-year-old girl using and then I said to myself, that’s just wrong. That’s just really wrong.”
In reflection, I ask: How can photography of a place work for empowerment, rather than contribute to mere voyeurism? This student was not unaware of how her story can be co-opted and wary of curious on-looking by outsiders who measure difference through the images of these stories.
I have many images from this set of classroom assignments. As I prepared this note, I found myself wanting to hold back from sharing them. Without the deeper context of the program the images could problematically reinforce community stereotypes. When thinking about truth in photography, I think about how truth depends upon perspective. And how truth can be deceptive, especially because the ways of interpreting truth are subjective.
Unpacking these sentences, I remember another moment.
We had planned a walk through the neighborhood with the students to introduce them to cultural survey work and documentation. In this activity we bring cameras, video recorders, and notepads and encourage students to talk to people and shop owners who are willing to share some of their knowledge of the place. As we began to assign roles to students (note taker, photographer, interviewer), they resisted and asserted that they would not leave the school building with us. In reflection later, after the initial resistance and refusal, we were able to gather everyone more calmly and reflect on what happened.
The students asserted that they could not be seen going into their communities with a white person and a camera because they would be seen as snitches. The photograph can tell a truth that is used as incriminating evidence.
They pointed out that this perception could lead to serious retaliation. Leaning into this realization about what photography could mean on their block, we began to look at how this affected other aspects of their lives—this fear, the inability to feel like they can make a positive difference in their community without being hurt, and their feeling that their community is the way that it is and that they cannot change it. In the end students did take some photos of their communities—using cameras borrowed from program staff or working with teachers in adjacent communities that were not their own.
As I looked through student photos from that time, I see many different truths that these students were documenting. I also see how these truths contribute to negative narratives about a community without framing and context. The student quoted above was right to question our motives to take these photos and share them with audience who didn’t know her and didn’t know her streets. So, I focus upon the photos that show something that looks different from the narrative that I see repeated on the news about these streets.
Are we looking for a truth of who they are? A text that may be interpreted, or a good story that requires keen composition? Does photography offer opportunities for truth as a deep self-assessment, or does it offer a chance for us to learn more about an/other? Perhaps our assignments will direct student attention to the light and texture that will best illustrate and frame a subject, or teach documentation that becomes an archival item to record a moment in time and space.
Consideration of just one of these questions shows the possibility inherent with the inclusion of photography in a class assignment. As a folklorist working in education, ethnography forms the basis of my teaching toolkit. A research tool, ethnography engages documentation—including photography, interviews, and writing to discover, describe, and interpret. As an inquiry method, it may affirm and create pathways to cultural knowledge and diverse perspectives outside the standardized textbook. Traditional Arts Education helps students better understand multiple points of view, which can lead to learning and demonstrating empathy, tolerance of difference, better sense of self, and a feeling of connectedness to others. Self-identity/knowledge is an additional, important way folklife and traditional arts add to Social-Emotional Learning.
But there are pitfalls. To ask inner-city youth to produce their story has already been done, often to the ends of creating “that” image for the teacher or for a public that yearns to learn more about a culture that they do not understand. Let’s consider this response from a high school student when I asked her to describe some characteristics of her neighborhood in one of our first sessions together. She replied: “What do you want to know about, the drugs, the pimps, how dirty it is? I can tell you all about it. I used to sell crack because it was the only good money on our block ’til I saw a 14-year-old girl using and then I said to myself, that’s just wrong. That’s just really wrong.”
In reflection, I ask: How can photography of a place work for empowerment, rather than contribute to mere voyeurism? This student was not unaware of how her story can be co-opted and wary of curious on-looking by outsiders who measure difference through the images of these stories.
I have many images from this set of classroom assignments. As I prepared this note, I found myself wanting to hold back from sharing them. Without the deeper context of the program the images could problematically reinforce community stereotypes. When thinking about truth in photography, I think about how truth depends upon perspective. And how truth can be deceptive, especially because the ways of interpreting truth are subjective.
Unpacking these sentences, I remember another moment.
We had planned a walk through the neighborhood with the students to introduce them to cultural survey work and documentation. In this activity we bring cameras, video recorders, and notepads and encourage students to talk to people and shop owners who are willing to share some of their knowledge of the place. As we began to assign roles to students (note taker, photographer, interviewer), they resisted and asserted that they would not leave the school building with us. In reflection later, after the initial resistance and refusal, we were able to gather everyone more calmly and reflect on what happened.
The students asserted that they could not be seen going into their communities with a white person and a camera because they would be seen as snitches. The photograph can tell a truth that is used as incriminating evidence.
They pointed out that this perception could lead to serious retaliation. Leaning into this realization about what photography could mean on their block, we began to look at how this affected other aspects of their lives—this fear, the inability to feel like they can make a positive difference in their community without being hurt, and their feeling that their community is the way that it is and that they cannot change it. In the end students did take some photos of their communities—using cameras borrowed from program staff or working with teachers in adjacent communities that were not their own.
As I looked through student photos from that time, I see many different truths that these students were documenting. I also see how these truths contribute to negative narratives about a community without framing and context. The student quoted above was right to question our motives to take these photos and share them with audience who didn’t know her and didn’t know her streets. So, I focus upon the photos that show something that looks different from the narrative that I see repeated on the news about these streets.
I choose the photo representing a building near where some of the students lived, but not where any of them lived. I see the student looking up and unable to find a way to frame its size within the limits of the lens.
None of the students took photos of their own homes. They showed too much, and yet not enough.
None of the students took photos of their own homes. They showed too much, and yet not enough.
I also choose this photo taken in a local convenience store. The student points out that this is a favorite cereal, but they can’t always buy it because it is so expensive. I notice how much more it costs here than in the supermarket only accessible by car. I also see the student’s flash reflected in the security mirror above their favorite cereal.
And even as I pick past the photos that reinforce the stereotypes, I wonder about what this can mean for truth. For photography.
I pause on the final set of photos. It is a set of portraits taken by artist Nataki Bhatti. She designed a self-portrait activity for the program, asking students to work with the photos she took and create a new piece of art. Students were also working with spoken word artist Iya Isoke, who had them find the words that they wanted in their own representations. The students embraced this activity, using light and shadow, words and colors, to represent themselves in a way that inched toward, if not a truth, at least a vision of who they were and how they wanted to be seen.
As I looked at a final painted portrait that I include below, my heart breaks. I see the truth of an amazing student who brought so much to this arts program, and am asked to reconcile this with the knowledge that he is now incarcerated. I look at the portrait, seeking a truth. The youth all shared these portraits with the public to disrupt other images, dominated by narratives characterized by lack and deficits. They wanted to tell a new story through these images. Yet for many, this program and these assignments were not enough. Does that make the truth of this work any less powerful?
And even as I pick past the photos that reinforce the stereotypes, I wonder about what this can mean for truth. For photography.
I pause on the final set of photos. It is a set of portraits taken by artist Nataki Bhatti. She designed a self-portrait activity for the program, asking students to work with the photos she took and create a new piece of art. Students were also working with spoken word artist Iya Isoke, who had them find the words that they wanted in their own representations. The students embraced this activity, using light and shadow, words and colors, to represent themselves in a way that inched toward, if not a truth, at least a vision of who they were and how they wanted to be seen.
As I looked at a final painted portrait that I include below, my heart breaks. I see the truth of an amazing student who brought so much to this arts program, and am asked to reconcile this with the knowledge that he is now incarcerated. I look at the portrait, seeking a truth. The youth all shared these portraits with the public to disrupt other images, dominated by narratives characterized by lack and deficits. They wanted to tell a new story through these images. Yet for many, this program and these assignments were not enough. Does that make the truth of this work any less powerful?
Education researchers Lois Weis and Michelle Fine note in their edited collection Construction Sites (2000) that urban students need and are constructing spaces “in which they engage in a kind of critical consciousness, challenging hegemonic beliefs about them, their perceived inadequacies, pathologies, and ‘lacks’ and restoring a sense of possibility for themselves and their peers, with and beyond narrow spaces of identity sustenance” (3). These photography assignments constructed new truths and pushed into the narrowness of cultural identity afforded through stereotype. Yet truth was also present in the reality that these photographs may snitch. These photos may share too much. Or the truth was complicated by deeper social and cultural injustices and challenges. I opened this note with the question: What are we asking of a student when we ask for a photograph? To tell on a community or to tell about a community? To make a visual story of what is there or to share a vision of what may be? Ultimately, I name these as false dichotomies, and I continue to engage students in this use of photography in my assignments. If nothing else, the creation of these images is about the engagement of student agency.
|
|
Local Learning: The National Network for Folk Arts in Education connects folklorists, artists, and educators across the nation and advocates for the full inclusion of folklife and folk arts in education to transform learning, build intercultural understanding, and create stronger communities. We publish the Journal of Folklore and Education, and offer training and resources to engage learning through cultural arts, traditions, and expertise. Learn more at www.locallearningnetwork.org |
|