People Are Strange When You're A Stranger

I'm afraid I haven't had much time to think about this topic during the week, so I'll try to keep this brief, mainly just so I could say I posted.

Sean brought up the point that you could just barter. The problem with that is you still have to choose very carefully. I (technically) minored in anthropology (technical only because I never declared) and this was a topic we discussed - not ethno-tourism per se, but needing to be careful about interaction with other cultures. One technique used to be able to study tribes is to bring gifts or things to trade, but as with money, the wrong items can totally throw off the structure of the society. Bringing these gifts shows that you aren't hostile, but a dependence on these items can be dangerous. I wish I could give some good examples, but it's been a few years since I had any classes.

There's also the point that the encroachment of modern civilization may cause a change in their customs and way of life. If you have people come through all the time, eventually you would pick up some of their mannerisms, style of dress, etc. Then they would lose what made them special, what was bringing people there in the first place. Kinda like Times Square - I was there last night with Laurie, and it was packed! But about 90% of the people were tourists - they go there and then think that that's what New York is really like, but it's only that certain section, and it's that way mainly because of tourism.

I couldn't imagine if people came into my town and started taking pictures of me and gawking. It would be different if they were really interested in the culture, and I'm sure a good portion of these tourists are, but they must also be instilled with the idea that they need to adapt to the surroundings and the society they are entering and respect it. I don't go to France and photograph the people there, why do it elsewhere? (And yes, you could argue that their culture is very similar to ours, but I don't think I'd do it in China or Somalia either.) To help put this into perspective (maybe) read this article on the Nacirema.

And as far as ethnocentrism (believing our culture to be the best), I don't think that's always the motive behind it. Like Nick, I would probably even envy some of these tribes because they have the luxury of being so secluded.

That's all I have - sorry if this was kinda crap, like I said - I'm tired and didn't have much time to think about this before posting.

Tourism, Voyeurism and Photography

For starters, if you haven’t read the article Voyeurismo by Roger Sandall, which Jen linked to in her post, go read it now.

I do a lot of traveling. While I have never ventured to the sort of remote and utterly undeveloped villages described in Sandall’s piece, I have certainly visited places that are less and/or differently developed than the US. I love exploring other countries and experiencing new cultures. I also love to take photographs. Photography has been a hobby of mine for years. However, if you take a look at my photographs (sorry, shameless plug, I know) you will notice that there are very few people in my photos other than my friend’s and family. Those few strangers who do appear in my photos usually only appear at a distance.

Last year, when I was living in Russia, one of my readers wrote to ask me if the population of Vladimir (the city in which I was living) was really small, or if the locals simply kept off the streets as much as possible. Well, for one thing, the population of Vladimir is around 400,000. For another, those of you who are familiar with the Russian culture of gulyat’ (walking around and hanging out with your friends outside) will probably feel as shocked by this question as I did. But, then I realized that if one were evaluating Vladimir by my photographs alone, one might easily conclude that it was inhabited by a small number of anti-social people! The same conclusion might be reached by someone viewing my photographs from my current location of Daegu, South Korea (pop. 4 million).

Vladimir, Russia

See, I’m one of those people who is simply not comfortable taking photographs of strangers. There are several reasons for this. One reason is that I’m pretty shy when it comes to talking to strangers. I feel that if I’m going to take a picture of a person I don’t know, I should ask first. (Seriously, how would you feel if some obviously foreign stranger started photographing you without asking?) Being that I’m not likely to talk to strangers in general, it’s highly unlikely that I’m going to ask their permission for a photograph.

Putting my anti-social tendencies aside, I have other reasons for being wary when it comes to photographing strangers when overseas.

Here in Korea, there are many outdoor markets, the likes of which I’ve never seen back home. I love them: the bustling crowds weaving in and out of a hodgepodge of unregulated stalls and stands, from which vendors sell all sorts of foods and goods which cannot be found in the States. The sights and sounds and smells always make a trip to an outdoor market a full sensory experience, and I love going. Every time I wander through a market, I would love to whip out my camera and take hundreds of photos, but instead the most I’ve managed are a few hasty shots here and there, taken when no one was watching.

For one thing, Korea has quite the social hierarchy, and the people who work in these markets are pretty near the bottom. Meanwhile I, as a white, English-speaking foreigner, am pretty high up on the totem pole. I worry that if I were to go into a market and start photographing, they would feel as though I were looking down on them. Oh, look at these quaint lower-class Koreans, selling fish! While *I* know that I wouldn’t be looking down on them, would they? In a culture where showing respect for others is paramount, I worry that if I were to start photographing people willy-nilly, I would end up offending willy-nilly.

One of my very few Korean market shots.

Of course, that is my own personal perception, and it is undoubtedly influenced a good bit by my anti-social nature. There are many photographers in the world (both amateur and professional) who excel at photographing human subjects across the globe. I admit that I enjoy many such photos, especially ones which come from cultures about which I have little to no knowledge. (My friend Chris took some excellent photos of people when he was in China which can be viewed here, here and here.) I envy photographers who can pull this off, just a little, although I know I’ll never be one of them.

Here’s the story of the one time I did make an effort to photograph people: Several years ago I lived in San Diego, CA. As many San Diegans do, I went across the border into Tijuana, Mexico a handful of times. In February 2004, I went by myself down to TJ for the purpose of taking photos. I wanted to try and capture the TJ seen by most American tourists. If you’ve never been there, let me just say that it is a depressing place, full of pollution and poverty. There are many beggars, and many of them are children. Some of these kids are selling things, such as necklaces or gum, others juggle items in hopes of money, while others simply ask for money.

I felt that if my goal was to try and capture the essence of TJ, I needed to photograph these kids as they were part of that. So I took pictures of some of them, although I compensated for what I felt was an intrusion by purchasing some of their wares or simply giving them some money, depending. And I’ve felt guilty about this ever since. Essentially, I was teaching these kids that it was OK to pose for photos taken by American tourists in exchange for a little bit of coinage. Was I leading them down the road towards participation in child pornography or prostitution? I still do feel quite guilty about taking these photos.

Begging girl, Tijuana, Mexico