A space to lay down the words behind the images. From Asia to Africa to the Americas, the portraits are made, stories are recorded and lives are represented through photography.
We schedule the girls for a session and the men invariably join in the fun. When they approach me with kindness it is a blessing, as in the image above. In many ways he makes the rest of the work easier, sharing with us his approval and allowing the girls to be themselves more so.
He is willing to make fun of himself a bit for the sake of the girls, rather than sitting a few meters away and staring at them as is the usual in these circumstances. Whether the photography takes place in the Middle East or in Asia or in the Caribbean, my work with girls and women brings out in men a less than desirable reaction, many times understandably so.
One interaction such in the image above diffuses such reactions and allows me to work in peace. These are after all girls accustomed to doing their chores and rarely taking center stage. Their place is that of the woman in the background, secluded and separated from the activities in center stage. During our entire session she never allowed her face to be seen, only a few times lifting her head enough to see the girls having fun and smiling in turn.
I will admit that I know very little of this culture, and the other cultures within my photography. These visual records are but clues to the larger picture, but I feel deeply honored to have been given the opportunity to make such an image, to be able to later on reflect on it and perhaps gain a slightly better understanding of the people within it.
To this village I will return soon, perhaps next year in order to see the success of the schools sponsored by Humana People to People India. I do hope that this elder and his colleagues continue to support the school in their village, to send their girls to gain an education.
We are in the final stage of funding for the five schools of 2013 and could use any support. Should you feel attracted to these faces and their stories, then you may contact me through the following links with your thoughts.
A conversation is had in a classroom this past week.
The makers of such portraits as the one above deal in a form of exploitation it seems.
This argument is made in almost every situation during my years as a photographer, from the valley of Lebanon to the villages of India. Regardless of language, the above words are expressed to me without exception.
Even though the experiences have been innumerable, a simple answer has yet to be formulated because each situation is different. Sometimes it is the mother of the child, at times it is a complete stranger from a neighboring village and sometimes it is an art student from a local university. Each suspicion of injustice deserves its own response.
Most of the time, the people closest to the person whose portrait is sought are the most understanding. Much of the time, it is that student in a classroom thousands of miles away whose opinion is most hardened. This seems irrational but has been my experience.
Even though the people in the field have encountered exactly that type of photographer, they continue to give the next photographer the benefit of the doubt. Even though that student has yet to step into the field as an artist, his mind has yet to open to the idea that many people will do for others only for the sake of doing.
This young girl has every reason to walk away from the camera. Her community looks to her for one reason only, to earn money from her future as a prostitute. She walks around the village stepping over used condoms as they lay on the dirt paths, without giving them much thought. She cannot attend school because she is deemed 'below the pollution line' by the rest in her Society, the largest democracy in the world as praised by so many. She wakes up to this reality every morning and goes to sleep in the evening with this thought in mind.
Yet she stands in front of the camera with a hope that every child possesses. She refuses to be denied this one chance to express her joy, to share her story with other children in the world, in a language without need for translation.
She does so and without hesitation, regardless of the photographer. She understands that it is the act of doing so that matters for her, rather than whether the photographer will honor her wish to be seen. The tree falling in that forest does make a sound, regardless of an audience.
Rather than falling however, she rises to a place few have ever reached.
I have witnessed this and will continue to honor her.
So does another student in that classroom, the one that raises her hand and responds to the accusation of exploitation. By doing so, she restores honor to the girl above and to our own community here.
Her name is Margaret, the other student in that classroom with her hand raised high.
So many men walking around with guns. Everywhere we visit, such is the scene.
Even more surreal is their reaction to my direction. This man for instance poses as directed: turn to the left, turn to the right, point the gun at the camera. He responds calmly, like a man being photographed with his prized possession, all the while with his finger behind the trigger.
It is such moments that give my connection to strangers even more significance.
Over and over again, people that have never met me show me a respect and dignity perhaps only earned over a lifetime between the closest of friends.
This confluence never ceases to surprise me. One such convergence happens tonight, when a sweet soul from the West Coast named Jessica decides to send a note. After seeing an image from Ethiopia, she shares her thoughts with me as naturally as she might with a dear friend.
She reaffirms my trust in the everday and in the power of the image: 'It seems that the people closest to you know you the least until they look and try to understand what it is you love to do.'
This happens on location in Ethiopia and happens between two people meeting through the photographic medium. By seeing the portraits, Jessica sees the subjects as well as the photographer. By reading their stories, she remembers her past.
In her words: 'I visited Togo, Africa for two weeks around a year ago to help build a school in a small village and since then my idea of beauty has extended past American ideals. In addition to the way that you evoke emotion throughout your portfolio, a large part of why I am so inspired by your work is because I have heard the stories of people from many places and you capture their stories in your art.'
When requesting her permission to include the above words, Jessica responds with trust, with kindness.
The people in my images will one day be proud to know her, to have their portraits next to one of her in my portfolio.
As for the man above, it seems that the expense of the bullets keeps him and his friends from using the gun very much. This helps put me at ease as he points the gun at the camera. The Mursi Community, as noted in an earlier post, shows us only respect and kindness, coupled with a sense of humor as seen above in the man's smile.
In a previous posting, this morning is described. It will suffice to note that the morning was most difficult due to a general lack of cooperation from everyone excluding the students. This portrait is an example of a child lacking the support of her community, her teacher. Everyone seems interested in the scene, men standing around having their tea served to them, women unable to do more than stand at a distance for reasons beyond their control, a teacher that seems more interested in the end of the session rather than the substance.
The girls are lined up to my right, with a volunteer from Humana writing names down in a notebook.
The teacher, rather than speaking to the girls before their turns, wears a sullen frown and pushes the girls around, her mannerisms rough and sudden.
The girls, before our arrival, had on their own made a few patterns on the floor to welcome our team this morning. One of the patterns can be seen behind this little girl. They were looking forward to this morning and the sadness on their faces is clearly evident.
After a few girls, I decide to end the session, feeling it very difficult to make portraits of girls unable to smile, without a single source of support. Confusion takes hold of the people around us. They wonder why the camera is being put away.
After a few minutes, we agree to continue but only if the teacher goes home.
By this time, the sun has risen and we walk around the village in search of another spot. We find it, in the shade of a small courtyard. There we make portraits with smiles, portraits of happiness rather than sadness.
This young girl, along with her friends, attend a Humana People to People India school for three years. At the end of these three years, she is to join a government school for the remainder of her education.
The design of the Humana school is to bridge the distance between illiteracy and formal training.
Her attendance at this school is an accomplishment, in light of the local economic reality. While the family loses a helping hand at home or a pair of hands in the field, they gain eyes that can read and hands that can write; a combination that will perhaps one day break the economic chains that prevent her family from making a better world for themselves.
In the midst of Prostitution, this portrait is made.
Behind her is a building with a dirty, white wall. The negative is exposed to take advantage of such, erasing any remnant of her surroundings and allowing her to shine without limitations.
This is her second portrait today; she has changed into a darker shirt, combed her hair and returned with a wide grin.
There are those that question my requests many times.
Why do you ask them to change their blouse? Why do you insist on darker colors? What if they have nothing other than what they are wearing? What if they like what they are wearing?
My answer to them is her smile.
Asking her to be involved in her portrait respects her; including her in a wardrobe decision allows her to make that decision rather than be 'found' on the street.
Proposing darker colors allows her features to dominate the portrait rather than be dominated by visually strong elements. Most of the children in my work will never see a photographic studio, will never have their portrait made. This is a chance to play, an opportunity to experiment with colors, fabrics and expressions of personal preferences.
When asked, many girls waiting in line will then exchange fabrics, pieces of clothing. Giggling dominates along with smiles.
My experience in the field has taught me that children take wonderfully to such inclusion, are happy to know that the photographer wants to make a nice portrait for them, is interested in making neat their blouse and brushing nicely their hair away from their face.
Over and over again, when viewing footage of the sessions, the subjects can be seen giggling as my clumsy hands brush their hair behind their ears or correct the position of their necklaces.
The portrait above is her second in two years. Nirvanavan Foundation has proposed a school in her village and has moved forward with the plan. Let's hope that her future is different from her community's past.
Here she stands, an Arab girl beyond her years. Her name is Maryam.
Earlier in the week, her portrait is made as she presents herself in between chores. As she is the oldest girl of the family remaining at home, with her older sisters in the fields picking vegetables, all the duties are her responsibility.
She washes clothes, she cleans the home, she collects water, she helps her mother with the cooking, she serves the family, she takes care of her little sisters and she manages the home in the absence of her mother.
My photography in this collection of tents began before her birth.
Her two older sisters were also photographed by me. One is married now with her own children and one is soon to be married; both have reached an age that excludes the possibility of photography.
On this day, she decides to have some fun. She collects a pair of sunglasses and a wonderful piece of fabric. She uses a pin to hold the piece in place and stands for her portrait. She is the oldest of the girls being photographed and shows it. She stands proud, unmoved by the men watching. She is an example for the younger girls watching, balancing the fine line between independence and tradition.
In this moment, she is free of all chains, she is beyond all walls.
After the photography, we find ourselves alone, walking back to her home about fifty meters away. She is walking to my right with a continuous smile. I look at her and say: 'you are my sister, you are my daughter.'
Without a single second of hesitation, Maryam responds: 'you are my father, you are my uncle, you are my brother.'
If there is one moment in my photography that can be selected as my inspiration, this is it.
Sometimes we ask a girl to close her eyes, sometimes to move her hands.
She does both and holds still for a few minutes while chaos ensues around her. The folks in this small cluster of homes are just waking up, getting ready for their day. The surrounding areas are already awake, tending to their crops and livestock.
This community is different; they are known as the Kanjar Community. Presently, they prepare their girls to become either prostitutes or women that tend to the home, the former of which have more esteem and prestige while the latter take care of the home, cook and clean, wash and sweep.
This young girl is a daughter of this community. Her future is decided by others.
For the time being, she is a student and attends a school on this roof sponsored by Nirvanavan Foundation. She learns to read and to write, aspires perhaps to be different. Time will tell.
As she holds her hands up, the sun beams upon her face, beads of sweat form on her face. We walk to her and blot her face dry in between exposures. She and her friends giggle but she remains unbelievably still, maintaining her composure throughout. With her eyes closed, she is able to defy the sun, perhaps even her community.
Hopefully in the future she can do so with her eyes open.
At first, she is photographed in the clothes she is wearing. As we make more photographs, she and the others change into their traditional blouses and dresses. All the girls at this home photograph easily, with her leading the way. Once one shows the others how, the photography flows.
She is a natural.
After a bit, the man of the house signals us to stop, a common practice with this community. Just as the excitement builds, or perhaps because of such, our work comes to an end. Time and time again, it seems to me that when girls perceive an opportunity, men decide to remove it from their view.
This perhaps is the single most frustrating part of my work since it deals almost exclusively with girls and women. The opposition of men and boys is unrelenting, in every single street, neighborhood or town. They always seem to be there, always pretend to be concerned, always do so without gaining an informed perspective, always.
Admittedly, the last sentence above is made without having a complete, informed perspective myself. I am a stranger to them, a man with expensive equipment, walking around with guides, making pictures of their children, more specifically their girls. For me to truly understand, much would need to change in my life, much would have needed to change before my birth.
I make these statements based on certain limitations, certain preconditions.
Can it be otherwise?
Perhaps in the future, my perceptions will change and a fuller understanding of this friction will unveil itself. Until then, my patience will be tested every single time a man comes into a scene and voices his 'concern' regarding the work, even when that man is from another town and is a stranger himself to the girls in front of me.
We arrive this morning at the teacher's home around 7:30 a.m. to her surprise. She greets us in the street and then walks back inside to make tea without our knowledge. We think that she is getting ready, therefore waiting in the van. Then she walks to us with a tray of tea and we accept with some humiliation and a great deal of appreciation, all while about a dozen men are perched on a ledge less than one meter away staring at us without pause.
We then drive to the school perhaps a little over one kilometer away. The girls are nowhere to be found due to the lack of information from the previous day. Regardless, they arrive shortly and the excitement builds. There is however a strange feeling, one that brings itself to the surface when we begin with the photography.
It is the teacher. After a few girls have their portraits made, all with sullen faces, the reason becomes clear. Girl after girl, the teacher pushes them to be photographed, really pushes them and without a single word of encouragement. At times, she removes a scarf or an article of clothing should she feel it is inappropriate. After several attempts to speak to her, a decision is made by me to end the photography and is shared with the rest of the team.
They cannot believe it. They feel that perhaps my mind will change even as my equipment is put away. They feel really bad and plead with me to do otherwise. My answer to them is this: send the teacher home in front of the children and then we can begin once again.
After a few minutes, they do so. Then the mood changes. The sun is higher now and we need to find another place. We do so across the street, find a small bench and arrange a reflector. All of a sudden, the girls begin to smile. The very same girls that wore sullen expressions now are completely different, as in the portrait above.
Such is one day in the process of the photography. When people see a portrait with a smile, they seem to think that the smile is natural. While the smile is natural, at times it is restrained by forces acting externally. The work behind the photography is to allow that child to be themselves by removing the barriers being placed upon them, whether that barrier takes the form of an unhappy teacher or the usual group of boys acting up from a distance.
In response to this story, my dear friend Anna wrote the following:
'It is amazing what happens when someone stands up for those who need a voice. By sending that teacher home and having the children witness it, it allowed them to see that they should be honored rather than silenced. My hope is that they hold that moment in their hearts forever.'
'There have been times when things have come up at school and I have felt frustrated and rushed and grumpy. That is when I have to stop and say, who is this for? Is it for the children? Well then, zip it girl--it isn't about me. ... Once I stand in the moment, it is all good. Many times, that isn't what happens regardless of your profession. The "I" overshadows everything else. It is funny what happens when the "I" is quiet.'
We arrive at the school and all the children are ready within fifteen minutes. The good people of Nirvanavan Foundation arrange them by gender and height, making it a little easier for the photography.
As always for this school, the sky is cloudy this morning. For some reason, this happens every time we visit. We decide to wait a few minutes, making some informal portraits. Then the sun decides to appear in between clouds and we make portraits, resting when the sun hides again.
The pink wall is still pink, like the most perfect backdrop. In color, it provides a most pleasant backdrop. In black and white, the value of the wall is high enough to provide a washed out background.
Against this background she stands, a student of the school and a member of the Kanjar Community, a community that trades in the world of commercial sex. Their women are sold by the men to local customers as well as faraway nationals. Their woman work locally and also work in the brothels of the larger Indian cities.
As a matter of fact, while her portrait is being made, the women below are making themselves ready for the day's customers. Of course, while we are present those customers are few and far in between.
Nirvanavan Foundation has a successful school in this village, on the roof of this building. It's small but effective, with a teacher that cares.
Can a school change this community? Many of the local villagers will say it's useless.
Then again, these are the same local villagers that treat them as below any caste yet use them for their sexual needs. It seems prudent to think otherwise and hope that education is the first step.
Her portrait as well as the portraits of others like her are for sale through my website, with the proceeds benefiting the school.
In this small collection of homes, some of the girls have been released from a future of prostitution for the time being. They attend government schools and have displayed promise over the past four years. Unlike the other villages of prostitution, some of the families in Pipli seem to have adopted a different life.
Time will tell. As these girls turn sixteen, our hope is that the pressure to join the older women in the flesh trade is limited, giving way to a different path. This is made even more difficult in light of the fact that the esteem of the sex workers is higher than that of the housewives, the latter given the responsibilities of cleaning, cooking and so forth for all of the members of the family, including the women forced to work as prostitutes.
While surely nobody will argue that the life of a sex worker is desirable, to some of these girls, seeing the sex workers walking around dressed beautifully, gaining the attention of strangers, has an effect on their youthful eyes, especially when they see their aunts or mothers toiling away making bread or cleaning excrement, both human and animal.
We cannot assume to place ourselves in their sandals. We can only hope that those sandals are at least given a choice, a real choice.
The man and woman above are from Pipli, where the majority of men and women are pimps and prostitutes respectively. Leaving their identities and work descriptions a mystery, let us hope that they are wonderful examples for their youth, in charge of families that have chosen otherwise for their children.
To learn more about this important work, one may visit the following websites, where the prints are also for sale to benefit the various foundations.
Last year a Humana People to People India School operated in this village. All was calm and we had the cooperation and guidance of the teacher in making exquisite portraits of the girls. We made portraits on the roof of their home and then moved to the field to continue the work, all without a single problem.
We were served lunch on a wonderful day later in the week when the foundation had organized a 'Culture Day' for all of the schools. That lunch was served in the same home and all of us ate together on carpets laid out on the floor.
With these memories in mind I arrive at their village this year, dropped off by the driver and alone. The volunteers from Humana People to People have been left behind at the last village to have their lunch and then head back to the main town. The driver will return in three hours to collect me and my equipment. I am alone and with about a dozen Hindi words to my credit.
In my mind, this is an easy village, one full of friends from last year. While this may be correct, a certain sense of trouble is in the air when the first response from a few people is to tell me to leave. Pretending to lack an understanding of their words, I decide to sit down and wait it out, more so since it's a bit early for photography. With me sitting there, about a dozen boys, older and younger, decided to sit down with me. This is usually trouble since they lack a sense of discipline and respect without an older presence. This proves to be correct. The boys decide to poke at the equipment, demand to see the albums, mock the lack of language and the usual. I am pretty used to all of this but unused to it being all alone.
I decided to do the one thing that usually anesthetizes their need to dominate, make pictures of them. In my experiences with men and boys from around the world, this has worked well. Since most of my work is with women, the men generally feel slighted and ignored, usually for the first time in their lives. Here is a man that places women and girls first in their midst. The trick is to reverse this conception, make portraits of the men and then diffuse the situation.
Since a digital camera is with me this time around, it's even easier to show them their portraits. We begin by making a few for fun, then some men begin walking over for their formal portraits. The one above is made after a few of the younger boys poke fun, as usual, at some older man walking by. By walking over to the man and showing him some respect, his portrait is made in peace.
At this time, a few of the older boys decide to help. This is a turning point since the girls are just waiting for the atmosphere to change. It has for the moment and we collect a chair and head out to the field. The older girls are too startled to come along and this saddens me, since many of them are past subjects. Nonetheless, enough girls come along initially to attract others once the photography begins.
We head to the field and arrange a space. Four helpful boys come along, between the ages of 14 and twenty perhaps. One stands by my equipment, one makes sure the younger boys limit their silliness and two help with the arrangement of the girls. We ask the girls to stand on the chair, one by one, therefore limiting the amount of interference that the younger boys can produce. We work for about one hour before the man of the land comes by to ask us to leave. He is a young man of about twenty and it is unclear to me if he is really the man of the land. Regardless, after a few Hindi words, he allows us to stay for another half an hour, every five minutes needing a plea from me to continue. I know that if we break this session, it will be hard to continue somewhere else. At that time, the taxi driver comes along. He is a great man and helps with the translation.
We decide to walk up to the street and as we are about to pack everything up, I notice a wonderfully yellow wall lit by the sun. We ask permission to continue and are given that permission. We arrange the equipment and continue with the girls. Now there are many, many more. Most of the girls photographed today are younger than twelve and that makes me happy, they are the future of my work in this village.
We end up by making more pictures of the boys and then head back to town. All in all, a very strenuous but successful day.
