#deborahtsogbe

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #8

The movie Daisies was an interesting foray into the uncanny valley, feminist allegory, and idiosyncratic use of montage and color. 

The protagonists, Marie 1 and Marie 2, begin their life with us as marionettes or living dolls, intent on indulging themselves to the point of destruction. As the story moves forward, we see them employ several signs associated with traditional feminine stereotypes, such as damsel in distress, coquette, etc, to fulfill their own chaotic agendas. Because Chytilova specified that the film was not in any way a psychological depiction, we must take the two figures to be somewhere between woman and not, between human and archetype, as their games throughout the film serve more to poke holes in the expectations of those around them and the viewers of the film. 

The use of color was a little disorienting in the film. It starts in black and white and moves almost seamlessly between b&w, full color, duotones (red, blue, green, orange, etc) and hyper saturated neons. I think it may correlate to a shift in intention - that perhaps when the Maries are at their most indulgent and impulsive, they are often portrayed in full or duotone color, highlighting the irregularity of their actions, whereas black and white scenes seem more expository or transitional (in my opinion). I think it really added a lot of richness to the story and some dynamism to the scenes that made things seem to move faster. 

Overall I think the allegory of the story is quite subversive and maybe a little prankish -- if you know you know. It also reminds me (visuals wise not concept wise) of the film On the Count of Three, in which the two protagonists also serve as foils of each other and as puppets of the criminal and mental health institutions - at the whims of the world and yet subverting it in their journey throughout the story. Not feminist, yes, but somewhat of an allegory in my opinion. 

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #9a

My curiosity was peaked by the discussion in part of the reading about the many ways to convey time through implying motion or stillness. The two above images are from Gance’s La Roue and  Rene Clare’s The Crazy Ray - in the first, Gance is using mechanical movement as a tool for time, while Clare picks out key points to use as a way to distort movement - restart, reverse, accelerate, slow. 

I am quite intrigued by the passage of time and how to convey the experience of it (not just necessarily how it appears). I appreciate the concept of montage for its offering of a diversity of methods for slicing, blending, looping, or otherwise remixing time. Film, necessarily, must find ways to appropriately offer up time so that it is palatable to viewers and suitable to the story. 

Battleship Potemkin uses a series of slices through time to jump from one crucial point to the next. This is the story of a revolution centered around action, and framed to achieve the deepest emotional response. Each episode is shot as its own small tragedy, focusing on the most charged moments of a story rather than the webbing in-between these, often made of quiet, slow, unsympathetic progress. Battleship Potemkin has been hailed as an exemplary propaganda film, so successful as to even charm the Nazi regime. It is fascinating how proper use of film techniques can completely change a narrative, and how easy it is to only show one side of the truth. 

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #4

The readings and films this week were interesting. 

On one hand in the readings, there was a lot of talk about using film for political purposes, as a way to advance causes and change attitudes. I’m not sure I saw that reflected in the films. I mean - the Battle of Algiers, yes, but Charleston Parade might be one of my least favorite films to have watched. 

I understand that perhaps at the time, the cinematic and social impacts of such a film were positive and trending towards the future, but it falls flat in my eyes. Had real social changed been aimed for, there would have been no use of blackface in the costumes - there would have been actual Black actors. 

Perhaps I am looking at it from a point too distant in time, but I felt that the film left much to be desired in the vein of revolutionary intent and actual radical concepts. I appreciate that film can be used for change - but I think also that the focus is too narrow on films about revolutionary moments in time or on pivotal moments. Sometimes (most times) the ordinary is just as inspiring. Nollywood, for example, is notorious for churning out drama after drama, but I believe that being able to just see one’s environment reflected back is grounding and motivating. It reminds you that you exist in the world, and that you are capable of small joys alongside groundbreaking triumphs. 

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #5

The texts and the movie touched on topics that are very embedded into American culture and into my life as well. 

The Black experience is widely affected and manipulated by media representation, and the methods and tools used to produce this media are crucial to the image portrayed. I think of the show Cops, which was popular for a time in the early 2000s, or of Black celebrities in media, and the grace afforded to their white or light counterparts that often is not extended to them. 

In visuals alone, I think that photography of Black people has long been rooted in spectacle and punishment (images of indigenous Africans in their homes, images of enslaved people for records, images of inmates in correctional facilities...) and that the tide of visual documentation is just now beginning to turn towards a rounded, nuanced imagining of Black life and the aesthetics that come with it. 

These aesthetics I think speak to what Baldwin was touching on in “I Am Not Your Negro” and “Native Son”. Baldwin speaks with conviction about the pain and anger he feels surrounding being perceived as Black in his environment.

Garnette speaks on this too - I can see myself in this essay in that I, too, like to wander for long stretches of time, often walking into the wee hours of the night along the Charles River. 

But back to aesthetics - the Black aesthetic is often co-opted and remixed in order to serve wider cultural greed, turned into profit, and it feels sometimes like Black people cannot own their image, that documentation of the Black experience will be perverted at every opportunity. 

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #3

This semester, I want my project to be about the feeling of desperately wanting to go home, but never being able to return. I guess when first heard, it seems like I’m speaking of physical spaces, but I want to explore mushy logic and fuzzy boundaries - relationships between family (found and blood), how to navigate messy emotions, and the role of physical touch in intimacy.

I will be looking through public archives as well as family archives for reference images and inspiration. I will mostly be moving through intimate spaces that I am a part of or invited into - my family’s homes in Boston, New Jersey, Maryland, etc, studio spaces on campus, outdoor gatherings. I will work mainly with film and digital photography and video in various collaging techniques. Some photographers whose work might be helpful are Julie Blackmon and Todd Hido. I am not sure about films - one that comes to mind is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. 

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #2

Having read this week’s texts before watching La Haine, perhaps violence and power systems were fresher on my mind than they otherwise would have been. This is not to discount the film’s inherent properties - ‘la haine’ translates to ‘hatred’ after all. 

I found it amusing that Vinz spent a lot of his time in the mirror practicing lines from Taxi Driver: “You talkin’ to me??” It’s not surprising, though, that as a young Jewish man who often finds himself on the losing side of class lines, along with his friends, would take to performing anger and intimidation as a survival tactic. Anger, though volatile and sometimes debilitating, is a way to keep moving towards a future, towards some sort of hope. Finding a gun at the crux in time that he did though, made his anger less of a machine and more a time bomb.

As we progress through the story, we see a series of barriers put in place by power structures that made resorting to violence more and more urgent, perhaps. The group is denied seeing their friend in the hospital - strike one.  They have an encounter with plainclothes officers, who abuse them - strike two. They are barred from a public establishment and have no access to transportation - strike three. Not that this is baseball - but we see just how easy it is, as the story progresses, for circumstances to be stacked against them. 

Violent encounter after violent encounter, it is hard to imagine being in such a precarious position and not rely on anger to keep you moving. Otherwise what is there? Despair? 

In the end it seems the efforts of the group (to remain sane human beings) are futile - death spares no one. It begs the question - if a violent moment is heard but not seen, did it happen? 

[photographyatmit]

blogpost #1

Reading The Civil Contract of Photography was quite evocative - the concept that the realm of photography involves intricate dynamics with power and society is something that perhaps we are all conscious of but have not had time to truly reflect upon. 

Ariela proposes that the when of photography’s invention is unimportant, but the why, who, and how are vital to understanding its current role in our lives. I like that she introduced two ways of seeing, and supposed photography/looking through the lens as a new third one. 1 - seeing as a survival mechanism, as a way to orient oneself in space and identify familiar or dangerous environments. 2 - the professional, critical gaze. 3 - the photograph’s gaze, introduces creativity to the visual field, brings attention to details that we previously may have thought unimportant. This brings us back to the invention of photography - it became a true field when a community dedicated to the practice evolved, when citizens began to gather together in common interests or towards a common goal.

Perhaps this birth coincided with a significant political event or that photography’s life follows the same patterns as the systems of power and governance in place globally. While reading about the obligation of the photograph to document, to witness, to remember, I found myself thinking of photographs I’ve seen from the Vietnam War (or really any violent conflict in modern times). I always wondered if, after the picture, the photographer stopped to help the individual whose pain they immortalized, or if they simply move to the next horror. After reading I think, maybe, it might have been enough for them to take the picture? In my moments of greatest pain, I don’t know that I would want a stranger to attempt rescuing me, however great their intentions, but I do think I might appreciate that yes - the moment is real, someone else was able to witness, someone else will tell the story. 

Having read this in conjunction with Hanna Arednt’s “A Special Supplement: Reflections on Violence” prompted me to think more deeply about the inherent pain always present in the act of photographing. I think of some cultures who believe that having your photograph taken means a part of your soul being trapped in the image. No matter the occasion or the emotion being captured, I think this is true - I believe true photography has been allowed to remain raw and spontaneous even as other forms of media have become more and more structured and refined.  So, when a photograph is taken, an imprint is made in time, a brand of sorts. They hold the violence of remembering - an act we wish we could both do away with forever and preserve for eternity.