Blog-photo Central Asia

@tobias-marschall

"Gewisses am Sehen kommt uns rätselhaft vor, weil uns das ganze Sehen nicht rätselhaft genug vorkommt." (Wittgenstein, L. Philosophische Untersuchungen, Teil II. 1984: 550) 2012, for 6 months in Central Asia, Taj. an Kyrg. Meetings and Collections, a selection. Often formulating questions, commenting photography: pool of ideas for possible researches. 2012, für 6 Monate in Zentralasien, Tadsch. und Kyrg. Das was ich auf meinem Weg treffe und sammle, ein Auswahl. Die begleitende Kommentare: Skizze für mögliche Fragestellungen. Pour six mois en Asie Centrale: Tadj. et Kyrg. Rencontres et collections, une sélection. Les commentaires et interrogations qui accompagnent les images: possibles chemins à suivre. "Motto: ... und alles, was man weiß, nicht bloß rauschen und brausen gehört hat, läßt sich in drei Worten sagen" (Kürnberger, F. Literarische Herzenssachen, Reflexionen und Kritiken. 1877: 340)

413 posts

Hay Hours of work, meagre harvest, fodder piles up along a short track. The sickle cuts in regular crescents, one gathers behind. The grass is low, grows in patches but rich. For the winter, it will do, it has to, calmed Abdylhak. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQ0Y1TdBF-b/?utm_medium=tumblr

Ends The path follows the river, the border, more or less. Tajikistan welds on the right side, still, unreachable. We walked about 45km that day to reach the bottom valley. Fifth day down from the Great Pamir, along the river, along the border. The end looms far away, unattainable. Jeep passengers passing by greet from afar. Ridiculing our pace, we respond with introspection, led by our footsteps, sparse words, notes, dreams and the thrill of an effort shared altogether. Serendip, that name traders used to name Ceylon, that remote and unexpected island, that sense of disconnect and encounter, is never far beyond, far behind. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQtGFePBmpN/?utm_medium=tumblr

Lights Daytime, details revealed. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQax9Yehtxl/?utm_medium=tumblr

Absorbed Afternoon revisions, sheltered from the outside cold. Critics thought the photo was staged, leads me to wonder what of the composition looks so much intended. Surely the image moves and reflects deeply entrenched clichés worked and mediated at length, but it also captures a simple and banal moment in everyday life. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQaxxwgBXgZ/?utm_medium=tumblr

Leaves Returning back after a few months spent upland, I was struck by the unique smell of dried leaves scattered on the ground. Tajikistan lies a few meters away, the borders cuts along the valley, right on the river. We greet passengers in cars, so close but unattainable. Soldiers patrol in sparse and irregular shifts. The end of the journey approaches and so the sensations recall its imminence. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQaqAzHBKWH/?utm_medium=tumblr

Enclosures The flock stretches over the main path, last night snow melts and freezes again when clouds are low. A herder shouts loud at the yak, gives directions but the animals are worn to the route. Seen from afar, their dark profiles loom a little out of the stones scattered around. Guidance is part of an ingrained habit that routinely remakes the camp's boundaries as far as the animal go. Remote from villages and lowland sociality, upland camps form small patches connected through battered paths. Fabulous and unique sights along a stretch of land whose bounded scope and grey contours enclose and at the same time propel the imagination to reconsider remoteness beyond absolute terms towards the specific relationships it conditions. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQX21TGhYAD/?utm_medium=tumblr

Complementary Associations Scattered debris on the ground, day's games and labours, kids in arms, evening chatter whilst the dinner cooks inside. There will be meat tonight, guests arrived. Men sit together in the guesthouse, boys hurry to bring tea in the expected order. As an outsider (hareji), I enjoy being able to move in between, taking advantage of a still unclear status at the time. While men rest and cogently discuss trades and politics together, voice and represent the interests of theirs to outsiders, women's labour and forceful acts of care, attention and persuasion ground in style, time and habits this undeniable sense of us that men manifest beyond one's self. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQVolLfBy7F/?utm_medium=tumblr

Dispersed Strong winds blow eastwards, clouds hang on the ridges, cover the end of the Little Pamir. Dispersed, mares and veals spend the day out to return evenings to be milked and sheltered in corrals. The large males, bukka, remain upland, in the adjacent valleys. No shelter needed, their strength in group deters any pack of wolves who turn to lone camels or forgotten sheep. At the end of the season, when grass and resources are scarce and depleted, livestock is weakened and hungry, some descend close to get their share. What looks first like a rather cluttered and dispersed composition, is but part of a larger and organic balance of forces and affordances regulated by pastoralists' patient and attentive watch. Vertical and spatial disparities present a set of variegated opportunities and marginal gains. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQTFnU6Bs5U/?utm_medium=tumblr

Rest In an attentive posture, the bukka rests atop the hill, looks around. Light snow falls down. From his dark silhouette, his gaze meets ours as the head turns slowly to us passing by. The flock sits on the other side, a little down. He watches, whilst daytime wolves remain upland. Clouds low, the air is warmer, no wind guts and -20C colds. Snow freezes on our clothes, melts on his warm fur. Another moment into all things moving and temporary. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQQIvPpBDWb/?utm_medium=tumblr

Against all odds Even in the most adverse and contentious moments, sensing and dealing with resistances never had to do with others' acts only. Writing, walking, resorting to myself became resources to abstract and disentangle the stakes of the reality I was faced with. A situation so real, so imminent in its overwhelming threat to my imagination, that I could not comprehend nor grasp fully. Photographs image the poetics of those interactions, the aesthetics of my perceptions, spawning an affective and curious disposition to grasp and get a hold, all uncertain and undetermined, of that beforehand reality. Learning to accept the real, the unbearable, began with leaving the arbitrary or existential troubles triggered by my senses to focus on things at hand, the elements I felt having a grasp over, stubbornly sticking to simple precepts of care and love. Roy Wagner had this point, blurring introspection with a philosophical tone, "there is no reason to fear apathy at all. We are all related." Putting one step after another was sometimes the best to do, my mind firmly grounded on the porosity and shared nature of our affective states, on our ineluctable faculty to feel and care for others. And in that capacity and habit hides the desire to stand up for the ties that we elaborated, for those we feel and care for, as fragile as the relations can appear, as contentious some of their percepts are manifested. Conflicts ground simply, and here lies their ineluctable complexity, on different ways to think, perceive and imagine how we should live together. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQNo-BDBp6e/?utm_medium=tumblr

Led Crossing dried meadows, livestock weighs down the unstable soil, creates those rows, bumps between stones hidden underground. We rode on our horses for two days, paying visits to camps. Alone, I was often tested in my integrity, provocations alternated with jokes, ambivalent trials on my actual intentions. The inquiry was so often led by others' intentions and attitudes, I had to turn my attention to their significance amidst shifting and moving grounds. Ruses, desires and interests shaped the paths and directions we took. A while later, generous feats calmed my apprehensions and I showed diligence in returning each year. Time allows for unexpected sights. A certain unease but grows when having to put the last word, wishing the story to have a life of its own. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQK5MWKhIFz/?utm_medium=tumblr

Deference A second, then third round of serve, head always a little bowed down. We dip milk bread and fried dough scattered on the cloth. A guest, I face the entrance, elders sit on my right side. Each one bites a little, not too much, kindly invites his neighbour to eat and drink more. An elder asks another cup of tea for me. He breaks that silence which mixes curiosity, apprehension, controlled agitation and little embarrassment when meeting again. We joke a little and politely, recall last year's encounters, smile at the generously opened meal greeted as an auspicious manifestation. Our shared application and diligence in conducting the meeting with the appropriate deference manifests our good will and desire to establish a present sense of companionship. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQISN-DhX6Z/?utm_medium=tumblr

Liver and Fat The knife cuts into the liver small pieces. Dipped in salt and with a chunk of fat, it is served after a first round of tea and bread, sometimes of cooking broth. Then come the bones and meat. The etiquette wants the guest and elders served in front. Then another round of green tea to wash it all. We pack the bones and the meat in bags and return back home, for a later share to family, neighbours and friends. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQFsbERhZFg/?utm_medium=tumblr

Red Evening, Khaibu lights up a cigarette. We drink tea, chat a while, neighbours come for dinner. There is meat, rice, and I add a few spices to my companions' laughter. Curcuma, caraway, cardamom, all things available in lowland markets but that no one cares to bring or order upland. Although some appreciated the taste, a reminder of a time some spent in Pakistan tasting spicy meals, plain rice with diaries was always served as a matter of course. Light, bright colours inside, red, gold, dark, mattresses and felt carpets on the walls, an old sewing machine rests aside. Kyrgyz yurts adorn warm tones. They echo in style the colours that make women's dresses. "Red is uplifting," a friend once explained to my wonder at the stark contrasts between vivid and saturated tones inside and the blues, greens and yellows of the landscapes outside. Tastes and aesthetic choices, as arbitrary as they might appear, end up shaping orders and ground very tangible distinctions. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQDe_RcBbj3/?utm_medium=tumblr

Dresses Difference in dress and style caught the eye. Trends in style and dress locate difference. It left me wonder how central tones and colours are to express and perform distinct senses of affective and sensory attachment, care and responsibility. Each dress is a cluttered collection of precious gifts: silver rings, shells, coral, old coins, silks, sewn by the owner herself. Men wear hats, dark and embroidered. A few silver chains hang on their winter fur hats. While men retreat in dark attires but venture outside, women embody the imaginary constitution of a sense of attachment beyond one's own interests and desires to the house, the camp, the Pamirs. (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQBN7Xgho0i/?utm_medium=tumblr

Reflections II That smile speaks volume for the fatigue, curiosity, and joy of the moment, caught in return. © Er Ali Bai (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CP9-1vqhnzC/?utm_medium=tumblr

Reflections "Don't shoot." "What then again, Er Ali?" "Yes don't unless you give a thousand." "Have a look first!" We laughed. He grabbed the camera, we played. I noted, "another happy and playful day in Ergail. All pain, uncertainty, and love for such moments." (at Vakhan, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CP9-pgLhQ9i/?utm_medium=tumblr

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