Photography exhibits and no-photography signs

One more quick issue to talk about here. Today I went down to the San Diego County Fair and while I was there I took some time to stroll through the photography exhibit. Plenty of good stuff and plenty of photos of cats and puppies. You know how it goes. But there were these little signs all over the place that read NO PHOTOGRAPHY OF ANY KIND all over the place. This kind of thing--in a photographic exhibit of all places--is something that I find incredibly ironic.

One of my favorites is when someone takes a photograph of something like Mt Rainier and then slaps a big copyright on the image--as if they actually made the mountain or something. You know, it's really not THAT hard to take a photograph of a pretty mountain. Photographers also do this sort of thing with "indigenous" people from around the world--they assume that they can just snap pictures and then sell/display these images without even putting a name. There was a photograph at the fair today of a young girl from Guatemala in the section with romantic pictures of Native Americans and nature scenes. Of course there was no name listed for the girl. She just becomes another digitized artifact that is carried from one place to another, and used for one purpose or another.

Often, when I look at photography exhibits I wonder about the actual utility of photography. What are people really using it for any why? Are they using it to accomplish a particular goal? In the case of this fair, many of the photographs were used to prove or illustrate a certain technical or artistic skill. That seemed to be the main theme, as usual with this sort of thing. But what about the subjects? Were they all willing participants? How many of the people pictured knew that their images would end up here? How many thought it was wonderful? How many had no idea? How many could care less?

Meanwhile, another million or billion images are snapped and uploaded to Flickr and Picasa and all of those great programs. The logjam of imagery magnifies day by day.

Disconnected

As I get closer to actually having a more consistent connection to the internet, I will start posting more. No, really.

In other news, I like reading a lot of the blogs written by economists and future economists. Like this one (thanks to Savage Minds) by Mike Konczal. Since I am already ripping off content from SM, I might as well re-post the same quote about indoctrination that Kerim snipped:

speaking as someone who has taken graduate coursework in “continental philosophy”, and been walked through the big hits of structural anthropology, Hegelian marxism and Freudian feminism, that graduate macroeconomics class was by far the most ideologically indoctrinating class I’ve ever seen. By a mile. There was like two weeks where the class just copied equations that said, if you speak math, “unemployment insurance makes people weak and slothful” over and over again.

Here is a thought that has been with me for the last couple of days: why do so many people read a publication called "The Economist," while only anthropologists buy "American Anthropologist"? Why can't there be a serious and readable publication created by anthropologists that is ACTUALLY APPEALING to a wider audience?

Soon I will be writing about my summer of preliminary fieldwork. No heroic stories of entry into the exotic field...just less than amazing airport food, overpriced car rentals, and the wonders of trying to figure out why nobody stops at stop signs in La Paz. It's amazing.

Entradas y salidas

So I am back from a short trip to Baja California Sur (BCS) for summer "fieldwork," whatever that means. It's not a new idea by any means, but the whole concept of the field is one that I am not too clear about. When does the "field" actually begin? Does it begin when I board a plane along with a crowd of margarita seekers? Does it begin when I grab a taxi out of the airport at San Jose? When I leave my hotel? When I camp somewhere in between La Paz and San Jose del Cabo? Am I "in the field" all day long, even while I am eating 1.20 peso tacos at El Fogon in San Jose?

It all seems pretty arbitrary. What is and what is not the field seems to be a matter of editorial choice or academic convention. The field starts and stops on the edges of notebooks and computer keyboards.

Ethnographic descriptions of entries and exits into the mystical field are often laced with romance, adventure, and the details of the transformative powers of extended travel. My recent travels to BCS started and stopped at the bureaucratic portal known all around the world as LAX. I always complain about this particular airport, but I should be honest and admit that it was pretty much fantastic this time around. On my way into Mexico it took about 10 minutes to get through security, since there was NO LINE. On the way home I somehow managed to beat the crowds to immigration at LAX, and I was out on the sidewalk waiting for my ride about THREE MINUTES after the stated arrival time on my boarding pass. Que milagro! World records. So much for complaining about the difficulties of anthropological travel, right?

Well, at least I have the car rental issue. When I arrived in Los Cabos and got a ride to the car rental place, I received the wonderful news that my debit card would not work for renting a car. While it works as credit in the US, my card is for some reason unsuitable in an international setting. Car rentals work on credit, so I was out of luck. To be a part of this network of travel, commerce, and communication, credit is of utmost importance. For the ethnographer who will be studying issues that are intertwined with development and tourism, this is an important fact to keep in mind--especially when it comes to looking further into the people who exist on the socio-economic margins of these social systems. In order to be connected and play the game, a car is most definitely necessary.

Travel from one geographic place to another is just the beginning. Relocation is of course important, but arrival in a different place does not guarantee the ability to learn more about or study a particular social group or issue. The ability to be able to get access to the actual system itself--by whatever means necessary--is of utmost importance. This was something that I realized this summer. Not a grand revelation, but hey, it was something.

Dealing with THE GAP

Rex over at Savage Minds recently wrote a short post about the "relevance gap" in anthropology. Pretty important topic, if you ask me. Here is the money quote:

"The time it takes for academics to study, write, and publish something about a current event is about the same amount of time it takes to enroll a cohort of students too young to remember the event."

I have written an article length response about this issue, with a critical analysis of all sides of the problem. This article will be published sometime around Fall 2017, so mark your calendars and be sure to join the discussion.

On Trash

Check out this post over at Middle Savagery. Colleen Morgan talks about the prevalence of TRASH in the Middle East, and asks, "Why do people litter?" Here is a small slice of the discussion:

It’s hard to escape it in the Middle East–loads of garbage lining the streets, blowing across the desert, and covering the beaches. I was surprised at how shocked and outraged I was the first time I saw people casually throwing large bags and empty bottles out their car windows–we are fairly well-indoctrinated in the States against that sort of behavior, outside of smokers who still toss their butts on the ground. I try to carry a plastic bag with me to the archaeological sites I visit so that I can pick up at least some of the trash, but it feels pretty futile.

In the comments section of Colleen's post, archaeologist Mike Smith brings up Mexico as another example of a place where trash is often strewn about. He writes,

There is clearly regional variation in Mexico – Cuernavaca, a tourist town that used to be our base, is much cleaner than Toluca , an industrial town with few tourists where we work now. We have noticed this in terms of street trash, graffiti, and dead dogs along the highways.

I think I gave up puzzling over Mexican trash years ago. It’s just part of life in Mexico. I don’t have any answers, but I do like the different perspectives you suggest, and I’d be interested in finding a reasonable explanation for the phenomenon, in Mexico and elsewhere.

I usually think of this issue in infrastructural terms, but it's also important to remember that sometimes notions of cleanliness can come down to personal predilections. I have wandered through pretty small pueblos where some houses and surrounding yards are incredibly neat, while others have cars, bottles, and all kinds of other "trash" cast about. This kinda reminds me of the neighborhood where I grew up in southern California; some people had impeccable golf course grade lawns, while others had junked cars piled everywhere. This isn't really an issue that simply pertains to any one particular country--at least not according to my experience. There are plenty of places in the US that have their issues with waste and trash management.

I just came back from a short three week trip down to Baja California Sur, a place where it's pretty easy to see some extremely different social and economic conditions within minutes. As for the trash issue, yes, there are places that have their share of destroyed cars and bottles and all sorts of discarded things. Places like Cabo San Lucas--especially in the more exclusive neighborhoods--certainly don't have this trash problem. Somehow, despite the fact that these homeowners definitely consume their fair share of disposable items, their neighborhoods are stripped clean of any traces of these products. Yet the surrounding colonias--where many of the laborers live--are plagued not only by sanitation problems, but also by a severe lack of power and water. Is this a political issue, or a "cultural" one? It's important to consider factors beyond mere cultural aesthetics.

So why do people litter in the US, Mexico, and the Middle East? Why do people litter anywhere in the world? Do they cast things aside because they're lazy, because they don't care about the environment, or because there is no other place to put things? Do they ditch their cans and bottles alongside the road out of habit? In the US and many other parts of the "west," where most trash is shipped to large landfills, are these societies "cleaner," or do they have the funds, equipment, and infrastructure to take our waste and hide it away out of sight? Just some things to think about. Ultimately there is no single answer...but I have a difficult time accepting the idea that littering can only be understood in "cultural" terms. For a nice coda, have a look at this photo:

Spy Hill Landfill. Photo by D'Arcy Norman.

Ya, I´m out of the office...

So...every summer there is a dead space here on this site. This is mostly because of the fact that I have been traveling to either Oaxaca, Quintana Roo, Yucatan, and/or Baja California Sur since 2007. Some years I am able to manage to post a decent amount, and others (namely this one) the site pretty much drops off the face of the earth. This summer I made the calculated decision to leave my laptop at home for some tactical reasons (it´s not all that easy to camp and bring a bunch of dumb computer equipment that screams STEAL ME). The only problem with this choice: there really aren´t a ton of internet cafes here in BCS. Unlike other parts of Mexico, internet cafes are kind of a rare commodity. Who knew? Now, I do.

Anyway. It has been a summer of reading books by writers such as CM Mayo, Bruce Berger, and JW Krutch. I am reading all of the books that have been written about this peninsula by non-Mexicans. I should add Harry Crosby and Pel Carter to that list. The next phase, of course, is to read everything else I can find. I will start by finishing the well-regarded book by Fernando Jordan, who travelled all over the peninsula and covered some pretty extensive ground.

For now I need to get out of this blazing hot internet cafe and see what´s happening with the game between Greece and Argentina.

Oceanside, CA

Deborah Small: The Desecration of Gregory Canyon

Gregory Canyon is a place of cultural and spiritual importance for the Luiseño people, who live in San Diego County, CA. It is also a place that is slated to become a landfill. I have heard news about this project--and the resistance to it--for the last year or so. I recently came across Deborah Small's great blog, which gives some good background about this issue:

Check out the rest here.

The Economics of Immigration: Robert Shapiro

I came across this post via Mark Thoma's blog. Pretty relevant stuff these days:

Waves of new immigrants often spark economic anxiety and cultural discomfort, as well as occasional violence and wide-net crackdowns, on the Arizona model. Even here, a nation comprised almost entirely of immigrants and their descendents, we’ve seen these reactions not only in recent times but also a century ago, when waves of poor immigrants from Europe arrived here. With a hundred years’ distance, however, we can now see that those early waves of immigration were generally associated not with economic dislocation and national decline, but with extraordinary economic boom times and America’s emergence as the world’s leading economy. And for much the same reasons as a century ago, recent evidence indicates that the economic effects of the current waves of immigration are also largely positive.

Read the rest here.

Memorial Day Weekend, Carlsbad, CA

Academia, Anthropology, and HTS: Two Recent Posts Worth Reading

First, read through this post over at Savage Minds. Be sure to read the comments as well. Then, go read this post over at Zero Anthropology.

What is HTS? How should anthropologists deal with the ethical and political issues that arise with this program? Is any aversion to HTS merely a retreat to the Ivory Tower of academia? Have anthropologists who are speaking out against HTS jumped the gun?

I am glad to see these discussions taking place--and I would like to see more. I am actually pretty surprised how many people in the halls of academic anthropology don't know much about the histories and politics of HTS (which extend back further than HTS itself). Hell, I don't know nearly enough about this whole ordeal. There is always more to learn. That's why it's important to read, to listen, and to think things through. At the same time, everyone has to make certain choices at some point.

Yes, it is critically important to take the time learn as much as possible about a given subject. But it is also important to learn when and where to adhere to a particular position. When it comes to the military, war, and international politics, what role can and should anthropology play? Is there just one role, or does everyone involved have to make their own personal, political, and ethical decisions? Or are these decisions best left to larger institutions such as the American Anthropological Association?

5 South

Photographs and Anthropology: Context Matters (Take 2)

The above photograph was taken in the summer of 2005
at an anti-war rally in downtown San Diego.

The above photograph was taken in the summer of 2004
during a trip that I made to Costa Rica. I had just eaten
dinner, and was walking with friends when I noticed this
gathering of street performers.


The above photograph was taken in the summer of 2007
during my trip to Oaxaca, Mexico. This was taken in
the zocalo, where vendors, street artists, and others
congregated in the tourist center, awaiting passersby.

Which of the above captions is correct? Does it matter? The photographer Brett Weston, who is still one of my all-time favorites, wasn't all that interested in describing the meanings of his photographs. In 1970s interview with James Danziger, Weston candidly expressed his opinions about various interpretations of photography: “This verbal-gobbledy-gook just bores the hell out of me, I’m sorry. It might excite certain psuedo-intellectuals but it doesn’t excite me. All this art talk on painting and photography is a pile of horseshit.” (Danziger and Conrad 1977:168). In some ways old Brett Weston had a point: photographs do have a certain power in and of themselves. At the same time, they are also open to immensely divergent interpretations, meanings, and understandings. So what does this mean for anthropologists who use photography as one of their tools?

Some people argue that photographs and other visual images speak for themselves, and that descriptive captions should not be added to them (this is an argument that I see more commonly from art photographers like the late Mr Weston). At the same time, in many ethnographies, photographs are additions to the mainly textual argument that is presented. And while they often have short captions, there is usually very little consideration of the the context of the photograph itself--when it was taken, who took it, what was happening at the moment, etc. Often, photographs are used as little more than illustrations of ethnographic and other anthropological texts, as opposed to vital pieces of data and meaning in their own right.

The "meaning" of a photograph can be easily manipulated, taken out of context, or changed completely. Controlling that meaning can be very difficult, and is sometimes impossible. This is especially true when images become available online, where people can grab them and use them for a variety of purposes that completely escape the original context of production.

So what can be done about this? My point here is that context matters. It matters because it affects the ways in which a photograph is received and understood by different audiences. Adding contextual cues can direct viewers toward particular points or conclusions. At the same time, I do not think that photographs MUST have contextual data added to them in order to be anthropologically useful or valid. I do, however, think it's pretty important to keep these kinds of issues in mind when using photography for particular purposes. Photography is anything but the literal truth emblazoned on film or digital sensors. To me this point can never be repeated enough.

I am going to end this post with a few questions, since this is something that I am thinking through myself: What makes a photograph ethnographic, anthropological, or even scientific? Is there a strict set of rules that can be followed? Or are the possibilities only limited by the creativity and imagination of the anthropologists who wield those powerful and ubiquitous little photographic machines that record life in all of its amazing--and utterly boring--manifestations?

*This is a re-worked version of this post, which I wrote about a year ago. Same question, different day.

**By the way, caption #3 is the real one, just in case anyone was wondering.

Corner Tienda, Santa Maria Atzompa, 2008

From Oaxaca, 2008

I completed my M.A. fieldwork in the community of Santa Maria Atzompa, which is located about half an hour outside Oaxaca City. This was an amazing, challenging, and unforgettable experience. This photograph was taken during one of my interviews in 2008. Atzompa is a community with a long history of ceramic production; since around the 1960s the government has encouraged these ceramicists to start producing their wares for tourism markets. Today, many members of the community do in fact make pottery in hopes of selling to tourists who find their way to Atzompa in search of "traditional" crafts. While I was there in 2007 and 2008, the overall flow of tourism was pretty severely reduced--much of this was due to the social and political upheavals that took place in 2006.

My research started off in one direction, and, after several conversations with community members from Atzompa, ended up focusing on something completely different: tourism. This was my introduction to the politically charged nature of tourism. While the Mexican government and many international institutions continue to push tourism as an unquestionable answer to economic "underdevelopment," communities such as Atzompa deal with the fickle nature of the industry. One small hint of political trouble and the spigot of international tourism runs dry all too quickly. Sure, tourism can be beneficial in many ways--but the key word is CAN. There are no guarantees by any means. Along with the positives come a whole slew of hard to predict (let alone control) drawbacks. And this is why there is rarely one all-encompassing solution to "development" issues.