Posts Tagged: race


12
Feb 10

The history house

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The struggle has always been inner, and is played out in outer terrains. Awareness of our situation must come before inner changes, which in turn come before changes in society. Nothing happens in the “real” world unless it first happens in the images in our heads.

-Gloria Anzaldúa, Borderlands/La Frontera

I created this piece as part of a racial justice poster project. When coming up with ideas for the design, I knew that I wanted to create something that speaks to and pays tribute to the personal, internal growth from which movements for justice are born.

In the 23 years of my little life, I’ve been blessed to have walked alongside crazy cool people with wild, contradictory, profound stories. What I’ve gathered is that we’ve all come to understand and work for racial justice in different ways. Sometimes they mesh, other times they clash. At the same time, activism is changing. In this age of information, good PR is reality, something that every powerful institution is utilizing with deadening precision. Glossy commodified justice is circulated and consumed, while everyday struggles are left unreported, ridiculed, or tokenized.

For me at this point in time, this means taking it back to basics. Even as an artist, it would be stupid to think that one poster I make or even a lifetime of work could herald a movement or a better world. There are too many creative and dedicated people out there for it to be that easy. What I can do is share the things that have affected and inspired me: to learn, to be a better person, to do more for the people I know and would like to know.

I really like this quote by José Rizal cos it sums up something so simple yet easy to forget:

He who does not know how to look back at the place from which he came will never arrive at his destination.

Or in everyday speak:

No history, no self. Know history, know self.

This has been a root and guiding principle in my own life. It’s also been a sort of restorative when shit gets complicated or overwhelming. I like to think that racial justice isn’t a fight but a part of who I am. This piece is an effort to visualize the natural and restorative core of racial justice: a retreat into the elements, the mind, and one’s own trek through life.


4
Feb 10

But you can wake up younger under the knife.

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Haitian Girl by David Choe. A limited number of prints are for sale online, with all proceeds going to Yele Haiti, Wyclef Jean’s foundation.

I have a hard time writing in here about things that are truly important… or tragic and incomprehensible to me. I feel like unless my talk is backed up by substantive action, it trivializes the very cause it supposedly stands by. Hence the disproportionate amount of tongue-in-cheekery and not much of anything else.

So this is why I really appreciate writers who take the time to thoughtfully analyze difficult subjects and attempt to bridge that gap between theory and reality. Catherine Traywick of Hyphen has a great blog series called Idealize This!, which discusses practical issues encountered by people working for change. The latest is on photography and relief, specifically in Haiti — something that I’ve (less articulately) pondered.

She writes:

In the aftermath of the earthquake that decimated Port-au-Prince weeks ago, journalists have worked ’round the clock to keep the flickering screens and hungry eyes of their eager public perpetually engaged. And we, in turn, have consumed, without pause, photo essay upon photo essay of devastated Haitians climbing bloody out from under piles of debris, desperate Haitians knocking over little boys, and homeless Haitians sleeping without shelter, among many other startling images captured by news photographers with Pulitzer-sized dreams (after all, Haiti’s last disaster earned this guy one!).

And we are so moved by these terrible, suspended fragments of another’s life that it may not occur to us that the bloody woman we saw rising from beneath blocks of concrete probably saw a photographer’s lens before she saw the faces of her rescuers. Nor do we wonder whether she’ll get a dime if her photo wins him any awards.

But that’s nothing new. Photojournalism has always been an ethically shady enterprise. Whether Steve McCurry’s portrait of the reluctantly compliant “Afghan Girl” or Kevin Carter’s voyeuristic photo of a starving Sudanese baby, the trade has long borne a paradoxical reputation; while widely regarded as a public service, it nevertheless entails a level of detachment that is antithetical to most conventional conceptions of “service.” It’s a topic I’ve written about before, and one that I continually revisit, particularly as I get to know more photographers and especially as I strive to critique the ethical implications of my own journalistic projects.

She goes on to detail the work of orgs like PhotoPhilanthropy, which positions ethical photojournalism as a process rather than just an outcome.

And in the end, there’s no perfect formula for photographers or artists to both serve others and receive recognition for their work. It’s a personal, situational issue that requires, at the very least, a whole lot of self-reflection. Just finding out that the answer is that there is no answer is a struggle in itself.

As Eliza Gregory of PhotoPhilanthropy writes, “I think great art surprises us—it can come from anywhere, and be about anything. So I don’t think you have to be from a community to chronicle it with beauty and subtlety. But, it’s also very easy to become a hapless messiah, a benevolent imperialist, or simply someone who is not actually helping anyone. “


10
Dec 09

I hate the city but I love the city.

If there’s one movie worth seeing while you’re holed up indoors for the holidays, this one’s it.

Medicine for Melancholy is directed by Barry Jenkins, who also brought us this lovely short. It’s the story of Micah and ‘Jo: 2 twenty-something black folks in SF. And I specify “black” cos in my humble opinion, this film offers complex, subtle, and truthful expressions of what it means to be a person of color in the Bay Area nowadays. Intonations of race and class, indie and gentrification, nostalgia and attraction– unfold along the steep chilly beauty of San Francisco.

I first heard about the film after stumbling upon Chinaka Hodge’s review (which is worth reading in it’s entirety, btw). Since I’m not a poet by any means, I’ll let her do some convincing:

Medicine for Melancholy is worth owning because you’re in it. I swear. Me too. This is the first time that I’ve seen an image of someone like me on film, and not in the simple representational TV One sort of way. Not like how my chest swells a bit when Jada takes a good role. And that feeling is nice, don’t get me wrong, satisfying. But what’s at work here is a different kind of sorcery. Micah and Jo are two of the most complex black characters I’ve seen on screen. I’m intentional about qualifying them as black characters because I think the genius of the film is the pronunciation of how spectacular and mundane it is to be a twenty something person of color, in our age and geographic area. Micah and Jo are the people I chills with: reserved and brooding, hilarious under our breath, telling jokes about Carter G. Woodson on the way to indy shows.

I mean, if you know me, you know that I’m all about my Saturday afternoon Blackbusters, but what a special, charmed thing to see a film bereft of absentee fathers, great debates, spelling bees, basketball teams and princely robes. Micah and Jo don’t do that much on screen — in a way that makes me feel vindicated, because if the routines of Jerry and Elaine and Vince and Turtle and Rachel and Ross are entertaining and important, why not the kinds of isht we go through? Aren’t our subtle tensions and conversations at the toll booth and clumsy mornings-after the types of human interactions that change audiences, even in the slightest?

Oh yea, and the cinematography is effin’ beautiful. Check it out.

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7
Oct 09

The aesthetic of colonialism

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I like media sharing sites. My favorite place to overdose on hip? Dropular. By now, I’ve pretty much learned to block out the glossy nudies for pretentious assholes to jerk off to sexploitation of white women high-budget porn. Which is probably the nicest way I can put it.

However, when I see photos of children and adults from the 3rd world alongside images of naked titties, cars, and furniture, I throw up a little in my mouth. Apparently Southeast Asian families are the hottest thing since vintage gadgets and band posters. In an attempt to understand who is responsible for this shit and why they think it’s okay, I’ve done some digging on my favorite haunts (mostly Flickr and Wikipedia) and also pulled from my good old-fashioned edumacation and life experiences.

First off, I understand that many of these photographers are well-intentioned and see themselves as helping the people in their photos. They claim to raise awareness and also seem to be interested in ending poverty, in an abstract and patronizing sort of way. And I get that not every photographer is necessarily exploiting their subjects. Photography, film and art in general are valuable components to broader actions one might take to pursue justice.

That being said, there’s a fine line between art and exploitation, activism and voyeurism. Too often, I feel like artists with good intentions fall flat because they don’t substantiate their work with context, critique or action (an artist statement with links to a few Western charities doesn’t count).

So what I’d like to know is: besides running amok and taking photos of poor people (which directly benefits you more than it does anyone else), how are you doing your part? Do you work actively to highlight not only peoples’ tragedies, but their lives as actual people with families, personalities, and voices of their own? Do you spend an equal amount of time documenting resistance to exploitation (there’s a lot of that) and the crimes that perpetrators of poverty continue to get away with (lot of that too)? How much compensation does each photographed person receive? Do they receive a cut when and if you cash in on their images? And by compensation, I mean the actual worth to you and not the amount that others have gotten away with paying.

By raising awareness, do you mean you stick your photos on Flickr with a link to your portfolio, or that you work proactively to educate yourself and others about poverty, the dynamics of power between and among the 3rd and 1st worlds, the continued pillage of the 3rd world via rampant cultural commodification and exploitation of labor and resources (which Western artists have historically engaged in and continue to benefit from)? What are you doing to ensure justice against poverty in your own country?

Miners, Plan ColombiaSome might say this is unrealistic. There’s only so much one person can do, and that much is true. But there are artists who’ve managed to do it (to the left, a clip from Plan Colombia by the Beehive Collective– and I think we can all agree that “raising awareness” is much harder than skipping into the jungle with a camera, donning indigenous garb, and otherwise engaging in practices that are at best silly, and at worst exploitive. Not to mention that high-minded talk needs to be accounted for; you either take responsibility or ditch the preachery and proudly own up to being a trendy 1st world thief.

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