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Browsing Tags photography

Pink Elephants and Dead Horses

October 9, 2012 · by Julie

IMG_0734

I’m boarding a plane to Bhutan and reposting a timeless favorite – to shoot (photos) or not to shoot…that is the eternal question.

There’s no denying that visual images are powerful tools for a design ethnographer to have at her disposal. Seeing the childlike joy on a grown man’s face as he opens a box containing his new toy, hearing fear in the quivering voice of a woman who just received a diagnosis of a chronic illness, watching an artist focus on each brushstroke – these moments bring our clients on the journey with us. They see what we saw, feel the emotions that we felt, hear what we heard. It’s easy to be drawn into the world of the visual, and over the course of my career I’ve had to become somewhat of a videographer and a photographer as well as an ethnographer. I’ve learned to shoot and edit and create a story that remains true to the voices of the people who allowed me to share their world for a few hours, a day, or a week.

But there’s a flip side to the camera. Clients and ethnographers alike can fall into the trap of conflating experience with the representation of that experience. The camera can create an emotional connection, but it is also selective. It’s a particular gaze, one that is narrow, limited, and defining. We can get caught up in capturing the perfect shot and find ourselves thinking far too early about how we’re going to convey the experience rather than simply…experiencing.

Ultimately, the ethnographer is still the research instrument. Technology has advanced and perhaps the thought of writing field notes “old school” makes us smile a little, shake our heads, and wonder how we ever got through those years. But the truth is that we would all benefit from putting the camera down once in a while. I recently had a project in which a highly unusual number of participants declined to be videotaped or photographed. Although that was important data in itself, it also opened up a new world to me – or more accurately, it reminded me of the world from which I had come.  After years of relying on visual documentation as a way of both capturing “what really happened” and sharing that experience with others, the intellectual knowledge that the camera only captures the data I choose became embodied reality again. I remembered that all representations of “reality” are partial.

The camera’s gaze is my gaze, yes, but the viewfinder is a narrow perspective indeed.

Putting down the camera opened up my field of vision. I suddenly saw those details that I realized I’d started to miss. There was no awkward fumbling, getting that great action shot, or making sure the camera wasn’t moving during a really good quote. The fieldwork felt more natural. I realized I was feeling their emotions in a way that had started to fade over time. I had been feeling in inverse proportion to the increased resolution of my HD cameras. Now, I could just BE with the participant and experience their day with them, and in the end my analysis didn’t miss the big picture in favor of the perfect shot. I’ve missed that.

Near the end of the project, a friend – who will be traveling to Tanzania with me soon – expressed his concern about getting stuck behind the camera. This was my response:

Photos are great to trigger memories, but the memories are what will last. The vibe, smells, feelings, emotions from seeing the world – and NOT through a camera lens. That’s what you’ll treasure.

My most powerful memories are moments that are NOT captured on film – rounding a corner in the Andes in the pouring rain after hiking for four days and seeing two dogs look up at me with blood all over their faces. It took me a second to register that they were eating a dead horse that slid off the trail just a few hours earlier. The exhaustion and hypothermia and raw emotion of that scene could NEVER be caught on film, and stopping to pull my camera out of my backpack would have ruined the sheer primal power of that moment. I just froze – and rather than run, the dogs returned to their meal. I watched in horror for a few seconds, then put one foot in front of the other, continuing my journey up the mountain.

Watching a pregnant elephant that we saw one day in Hwange, Zimbabwe return the next day to introduce her brand new pink baby to the herd for the first time was awe inspiring. The photos I took don’t begin to do the scene justice – the baby doesn’t even look pink. But the memory hasn’t faded. To see the pink elephant you had to be there, fully in the moment, paying attention. By the time I got the settings on my camera adjusted properly the baby was gone, surrounded by the herd shielding her to protect her from our curious stares. Those stuck behind their lenses missed the pink elephant completely.

Tthe 16 ft crocodile in Guatemala that was sunning itself as we paddled by two feet away, the feel of class V rapids tumbling over you when you’re sucked into a hole and can’t breathe, the random reggae band that was playing at a roadside guesthouse in Zimbabwe in the middle of nowhere, or just the absolute peace of cracking open a Bollinger’s on an African sundowner as a herd of cape buffalo rumble past you.

Just be sure you put the camera down and EXPERIENCE it all. I’ve found it helpful to leave the camera in the tent or room for a game drive or outing or two. It’s a totally different experience without it, and extremely valuable. It will also help you take better shots. You’ll become more selective and purposeful and you’ll really see the scene in context before you hit that button. I have zero technical skill, but the camera becomes an extension of my gaze – not a replacement for it – and that makes all the difference.

 Remember, the camera is just one of many possible tools to tell a story. But the storyteller is always YOU.

Day 81 – Back to the Pack

July 24, 2012 · by Julie

July 23, 2012
Sunday

The Gear

The biggest unanswered question about the trek (aside from whether or not the Tibet border will open) is which backpack will ultimately join me on the trail. I’ve been debating this since Day 2 and have researched packs to death. My ancient, beloved CamelBak has been all over the world with me, but ultimately I think it’s a bit too small for a trek of this length and intensity. Although I managed with it just fine in Peru, I would have liked a bit more space and a more comfortable hip belt. Like the old, comfy boots, it’s time for a new pack.

My LowePro Photo Sport 200 turned out to be far too small and much too wimpy. It sagged and bent and twisted after a two hour hike here in Los Angeles, so I can’t imagine it would last more than ten minutes on the EBC Trek.

As a backup plan, I ordered the Clik Elite Obscura. The reviews were great and it seemed like it would solve a key problem – what to do with my camera. To be honest, I’m still debating whether or not I should take my DSLR with the 300mm lens. On the one hand, it’s super heavy and I can’t imagine lugging it up a mountain. On the other hand, it’s NEPAL! I can’t imagine not having it handy when an amazing shot presents itself, like this one I took of a Hadzabe boy in Tanzania. I’m truly torn. In any case, the Obscura arrived and…sat in my living room for a couple of months while I traveled and worked and went to doctors and got distracted by the life of a real girl.

This week, I finally took it out of the bag and tried it on. Have I mentioned that I hate online shopping? Detest it. With a passion. I miss brick and mortar stores where I can touch a backpack and stuff things in it and try it on and walk around with it for a while. This one just doesn’t fit my torso. It’s not comfortable at all. The camera is still really hard to get to, even with the special zippered compartment in the bottom of the pack. Good reviews or not, I can tell immediately that this one is not going to work for me. Of course, I’ve passed the 30 days where I can return it. Anyone want an Obscura? Looks like I have one for sale.

So today I headed out to REI in Huntington Beach, which is just about the only place on the planet left to actually try on backpacks. I can’t believe I didn’t get the name of the employee who helped me because he was FABULOUS! He suggested a few different options, loaded them up with weights, and patiently watched me galumph around the store, moving, twisting, and debating. For over an hour. One problem is that the 28 liter packs are just a *tad* too small, but the next size up in the models that fit me well were 36 liters – a tad too big. Another issue is that, well, how can I put this? I’ve learned that I really need a backpack designed specifically for women. I have, um, parts of my torso that get in the way if the straps aren’t cut just right. So that limited my options too.

With his help, I narrowed it down to the Gregory Jade 28 or the Deuter ACT Trail 28. I left the store with the Gregory Jade (in purple to match my Barney Boots), but I’m still not convinced it’s the right one. It fits like a glove. I hardly feel like I’m carrying any weight. I have never in my life worn such a comfortable backpack. It has one downfall though – it’s top-loading only and because of the fancy suspension in the back, it has sort of a crescent shape. It doesn’t stand up on its own and it’s a bit tricky to pack. There’s no full-length zipper, so you really have to dig for whatever you stash in the very bottom and the crescent shape makes getting to the bottom challenging. It doesn’t stand up – it tilts and rolls and fights you all the way. I can see this being a problem when it comes to my camera. My choices are to either pack it in the bottom and just know that I’ll only be able to use it when we stop at a tea house for the day, or I can ignore every bit of advice about proper weight distribution in a backpack and put it on the very top. It’ll still be hard to get to – I’ll need to at least slide the backpack off one shoulder – but that could work if it doesn’t throw the weight off completely. I decide to take it home, pack it up, and try it out.

On my way out the door, Awesome Employee (dang, I REALLY wish I remembered to ask his name!) reminded me that REI has a generous 100% guarantee policy – the one I used when I returned the Boots of Doom. That made me feel a lot better, as I don’t want to end up in the same situation that I’m in with the brand new, un-returnable Clik Elite bag.

I have a vision of myself collecting “not really used” gear like stray puppies. I suppose I could open a used gear shop, right? Hmm…it’s a thought! 😉

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