PICK OF THE WEEK: Some scenes just make you sad

Self Portrait for Two (Melbourne Australia June 2014)

On the face of it you might not think there is much in this image to make me or you or anyone sad. Especially, you might tell me, given the number of images we are seeing everyday of people who are homeless, people who are experiencing trauma or who are in some other way vulnerable or disadvantaged. And of course, on the face of it, you would be totally correct: images of those kinds of things are distressing and make me, and you, and most likely a lot of people, very sad. Hopefully they also serve as a call to action for some of us. Hopefully photography in that context can contribute to change.

Sadly, however, far too many of the photographs I see of homeless and other disadvantaged and vulnerable people have an aura of exploitation about them. Oftentimes for so-called street photographers, these groups provide little more than "easy targets" for a "gritty and real street shot". In reality they provide nothing more than a kind of trophy for the photographer. But that is another story for another day.

Back to this photograph, made on one of the busiest corners in the CBD of Melbourne. These two people are (obviously) making a self portrait of themselves. They are standing diagonally across the road from the beautiful and historic Flinders Street railway station. A must see for tourists to the city. 

So, what is so sad here? Surely this is simply two tourists making a souvenir photo of themselves? And they are smiling aren't they? All good questions. Again, on the face of it, nothing is untoward here. And really even not on the face of it, I can't say there is anything untoward here. 

It's just that I watched them for a while as they were setting up the camera and tripod, and then the guy arranged his partner n just the right place, set the timer and joined her on the other side of the camera, and the photo was made. As they went about this process it was as if they were in a little world of their own. The crowds flowed around them, nobody (except me) even glancing in their direction. And, more poignantly, they didn't look at anyone else either in the whole time I was watching them and then making this photograph. I was about two meters away from them for five minutes and they didn't once look my way. I am quite sure they didn't even see me.  It was if they truly were alone on this busy intersection.

There just seemed to be something sad about the whole scenario. To me anyway. A sense of loneliness took hold of me as I watched them. And, really, that's all I can say. I don't have an explanation for why I felt the way I did. I mean, I often pick up emotions, become affected by what I see and feel on the street. And it's not always possible to pinpoint what causes a feeling or a sense.

Anyway, a good street photograph is one that causes an emotional reaction in the viewer. And it could be added that an even better street photograph is one that causes an emotional reaction in the photographer. One thing I can say is this: if sometimes I do have an emotional reaction to a scene I witness, then it suggests that at least some viewers will also have an emotional response of some kind. And, to me, that is a very good outcome indeed.

Peace

A Tale of a Teacher on the Two Way Street that is Tourism

Tourism is a Two Way Street (Padangbai Bali Indonesia March 2014)

This woman's name is Niwh Mirawati. The other people in the photo are tourists just back from a snorkelling trip off a nearby beach. Of course when I made this photo, I hadn't yet met Mirawati, but I did meet her later in my stay at Padangbai in Bali.

At the time I made the photo (a sweltering day of mid 30c temperatures and high humidity) I just assumed she was just one of the many street vendors who ply their trade in this busy diving and snorkeling mecca that attracts tourists from around the world. As for the photo: at the time I felt that it neatly encapsulated much of what I was observing in Bali: Masses of tourists, primarily there for short vacations and bent on self-indulgence, who seemed to on the whole remain completely unaffected by the culture or the reality of life for the people of the island. So often I saw tourists not notice or acknowledge anything outside themselves (unless they were shopping!). Little did I know at the time the full meaning of this image.

Several times over a couple of weeks, Mirawati approached us, offering small statues, wrist bands, and other crafts for sale. One afternoon as we sat at a warang (the name for a local cafe) she approached us and, once again, said "It's for the school". Up to this point I had only wondered vaguely about that particular part of her sales pitch. But, on this day, I asked her what she meant. So, she told me, and this is her story.

Mirawati is an elementary (primary) school teacher. Along with a colleague (Nikadek Mingguwati) she spends school vacation times on the street selling handicrafts in order to raise money that goes to help poor children buy uniforms, books and other supplies thus enabling them to attend school. Oh, the money raised also pays school fees for these children.

"School is not free in our country," Mirawati explained. "We raise money so that smart children even if they are poor can go to school to be educated." She went on to tell us that she hopes one day school will be free for all children.

Many of us (I wonder, how many though) know that being a school teacher means a lot more than just standing in front of a class. Teachers everywhere are engaged in all kinds of extra-curricular activities to support the children in their charge and the schools they teach in. It is a sad but true fact of life in our money mad world that schools and education generally are way down on the budget priorities of most governments.

So, as long as we place such a low priority on education, and as long as we continue to crave pleasure (and the material trappings that go along with it) at all costs, then I suppose teachers will not only continue to have their efforts under-valued and under-rewarded, but they will be forced to continue to put in more effort, time and energy than we should reasonably demand of them.

Tourism, in this situation, really is a two way street: teachers selling goods on the street to rich tourists to pay for the education of children while at home most of those tourists and their children get a relatively free education only valued to the extent that it makes them "employable". This post is not about posing questions about "what would the poor children of Bali do without the tourists?"; It's more about highlighting the dedication, commitment and passion of teachers everywhere and these teachers in particular. It is also about pointing out the injustice of allowing the exploitation of these virtues, while at the same time perusing more short-term (and short-sighted) agenda.

PS: I have tried to be accurate with the spelling of the names in this post. The notes I have are sketchy and I apologise for any mistakes.

PICK OF THE WEEK: Paradise Lost?

Market Shoppers in Bali (Ubud Indonesia March 2014)

We are moving on tomorrow. We leave Ubud in the morning to, we hope, a smaller and quieter part of the island of Bali. Today I made a photograph that, in some ways, speaks to me of how I see and feel about Ubud. So, I thought I would use it for this week's Pick and as a way to introduce some reflections on the town.

Some of you will remember that I wrote on first arriving that I had never experienced such intense traffic in any of my travels anywhere in the world. Well, sadly that impression remains strong: A small group of villages sewn together with narrow and extremely built up roads, crowded almost to the point of gridlock makes for noise almost beyond bearing, and dangerous conditions for drivers and pedestrians alike. But, it is the cause of such chaos that I want to talk about right now. And that cause? Shopping.

Yes, shopping. And of course for there to be shopping there needs to be shoppers. And, shoppers are what Ubud has in droves. Well, what is interesting is that it is now low season, so the droves aren't quite as huge as they might be. That is truly scary. If it is like it is now, what's it like in high season? To be honest, I can't imagine what it would be like and I do not want to be here to find out.

These shoppers come from all over the world to shop, to have massages, to do Yoga, to pose (and this posing is a whole other story I would love to get into but ...), to buy stuff they could buy at home and to generally spend, spend, spend. There is a madness for shopping here. Again, it is on a scale I have never seen before.

Shop after shop selling the same goods. Some stock very exclusive brands, some (most) selling the same tacky tourist kitsch as dozens of other shops. Then there is the Ubud market in which it is impossible to walk one meter without being offered something for sale and where to even cast an eye on an item invites a sales pitch that won't go away.

Don't get me wrong: I do not blame the local people for trying so hard to sell what they can. After all,what was once a rural village, is now a metropolis with its heart ripped out and replaced by very few other ways to earn a living than by selling things or services to tourists. No, it is the tourists who must wear the responsibility

Ubud is "known" as a romantic place, a place where weary people from "the west" with money can come and relax, find "spiritual" upliftment and generally enjoy the beauty of a tropical paradise at bargain basement prices (relative to what they'd pay "at home"). Whether it is a myth they've been sold, or whether people choose to believe all this so they can come and be "cool", and have a story to tell later, I don't know. For some, of course, the myth can become a kind of reality (and I don't mean to say their experiences are necessarily "real"): out there in the countryside there are exclusive "spas" and "retreats" where (for a price) "relaxation" can be bought and "beauty" experienced. But here in these streets full of shopping tourists pushing, shoving and strutting their way to the next place they can spend some money in, the reality is very different. Here there is noise, pollution, crowds, a maddening "vibe" that frazzles the mind and exhausts the body. And that's just for starters.

Strip all this crass and gross materialism away and there is life here of course. Beauty too, in the people and their homes, their temples, their daily rituals. Just as there is in any community really. But, the time cannot be too far away when the constant building, the ever increasing demand on infrastructure and the sheer number of cars, buses, bikes and tourists bent on self indulgence and shopping, brings the place to a point of paralysis, of breakdown.

I am not sad to be leaving Ubud, but I am sad for Ubud and its people. Sad for the loss of another unique place that has now become just like every other place. The destruction of paradise continues.

Peace to all

PS I accept my part in this tragedy. After all I came here as a "tourist", therefore I am adding to the demands being placed on this society and its infrastructure. I guess I have just been shocked by the scale of the destruction here. I like to think my impact is smaller, however: I do not shop beyond the necessities of life, I don't buy souvenirs, I see things. I am an artist and observer. I make street and documentary photographs that, I hope, provide something of a balanced view of what I see. Maybe that's my role too. I can only report what I see, feel and think. The rest is up to you.