Victory to Truth and Honor: A Salutation Like No Other

For me and for so many other street and social documentary photographers, and especially those of us coming from a Humanist position, creating good photos that celebrate humanity and tell stories and show scenes that enrich the viewer, it is not enough to have the right camera, understand composition and the rest. Of course I for one will never know enough to fully do justice to the work I do. But like all things in life, it's a lifelong learning process.

No, for me and those others, the making of good work comes from a broader based learning. It comes from an engagement with other art forms and movements. It comes from an ongoing study into what makes us human, why we do what we do. It comes from a knowledge of how society functions, how we all fit into our environment. In other words, in order to be a good street or social documentary photographer I believe that one has to at least be making the attempt to become a well informed, well rounded, human being.

Today's post isn't directly about these ideas. It's more about an aspect of communication in which we have the opportunity to not only revive an old courtesy that seems to be fading away, but also to let others know a little at least of what drives us: the ongoing and never-ending pursuit of honor and truth.

A while back I reconnected with a very good friend. We'd been out of touch for a many years, and I tell you it was really good to hear from him again. I think we've kind of taken off just where we left off. Anyway, I was looking at old emails from him (he used to send his poetry out to people on his list; ah, the good old days when you had to actually email people to share your writing, thoughts, ideas, whatever), and I noticed a really nice sentence he used on one as a way of signing off. He wrote:

Vishwa dharma ki jai

This is Sanskrit and means (according to my friend), 'victory to universal truth and honour'. When I read this expression, I was moved. Now, I don't have a problem with 'yours sincerely' or 'kind regards' and so on, as ways of signing off  an email or (just imagine)  a letter. Indeed, I think those salutations (is that the right word?) can be meaningful and can carry heartfelt and sincere wishes from one person to another.

However, as with all things we do 'automatically' and as a matter of course, these expressions seem to  have lost much, if not all their true meanings. In fact, how often do we get emails with no such signing off, and with merely the sender's name at the bottom? Actually, now I think about it, I remember emails that have no name signing off. On the face of it that might seem rude, but most often it isn't: people and  the way they communicate are changing; I guess some of these so-called 'niceties' are just naturally going to be lost.

So, when I read my friend's Sanskrit salutation, I thought, hey, I'm going to make sure that I for one do not forget these traditional expressions of good wishes and salutation. And what better salutation for a truth seeker (that's me) than my friend's?

It might be that a wish for the victory of universal truth and honor sounds a bit old fashioned, a bit formal even. Not at all: how up to date, how necessary in our materialistic, fast-paced and sometimes lonely and corrupt world, is it to seek truth and to act with honor. Honor isn't the fuddy-duddy, formal term you might think. Look it up: it's about honesty, truth, right behavior, integrity, all that good and right stuff.

So, I'm going to try to use this great salutation whenever I can. After all, it does say a lot about my attitude to my work as a street and social documentary photographer.

And my message to you, dear reader? Vishwa dharma ki jai

Georgia: Recording life on the streets of Perth as it happens

Allow me to introduce you to Georgia, who I met while working on the street in downtown Perth on New Years Day.
I had just made a photograph of another person, one I wouldn't normally ever make, but for some reason I was drawn to the man who, clearly down on his luck, was sleeping along the wall of an upmarket store, Just as I made the photo, a passerby yelled that I should get permission before photographing someone in the street. He added: "How would you like it if someone took your photo in that condition?".
Instantly I knew he was right. Not about the permission, but the second bit.  I very rarely if ever photograph people who are homeless or otherwise vulnerable. In fact, it's a strong rule I always follow (I plan to write about this subject in some depth soon).  But, what happened next, gave me the answer to why I'd been drawn to photograph that poor man as he slept.
"Don't listen to them. You have to take those photos." This voice reached me just as I was walking away thinking about what had just happened. I turned and came face to face with Georgia. She told me that she was writing what she saw on the street. She kind of implied that this was what she was meant to be doing, that "the guy upstairs" wanted her to make a record.
"I'm thinking of calling it Hell on Earth after all the things I've seen," she told me. We chatted for a while about the importance of bearing witness to life as it passes us by. Georgia went on to tell me that she just goes where, and does what, she feels she is meant to do. Like the time she took in a young woman with a small baby she found alone in the city sitting with bags of belongings, but with nowhere to go.
"I took her home, fed her and the baby. She stayed a while, then the Salvos found her a place to live." Georgia reckons that her God had put her in the right place at the right time to help.
So, what had Georgia meant when she shouted to me 'You have to take those photos"? I've been giving this a lot of thought the last couple of days. First, she was telling me that I have to bear witness. Of course for many of us in the arts, bearing witness is oftentimes the very reason we do what we do. I know it is for me. As I say, I hardly ever photograph homeless people; but on that day I did. I suppose you could say that I was bearing witness; I was acknowledging my brother human, while most if not all simply passed by without even a glance or thought, much less any kind of empathy.
But, and it's a big but for me, I have never felt adequate to the task of properly bearing witness for the more vulnerable people I encounter in the streets. Besides, way too many of those I like to call "so-called" street photographers (the ones who simply play at the genre guided by their egos and a "hunting" mentality), snap away at homeless people, at people down on their luck, because they are "easy targets". I despise this approach and steer away from it as much as I can.
So, why me? Why is it me who has to "take those photos"? Well this hasn't been so easy for me to answer despite my deep reflection. Then, literally five minutes ago as I took a "Facebook break" from writing this, I saw a short post shared on my timeline. The quote reads:

Sometimes the detour is the path.

Perhaps. At least one thing can be said: Taking the detour I did when I photographed the homeless man sleeping, led me to meeting Georgia, who is bearing witness, who is seeing life go by in all its shades and making a record of what she sees and hears. That's why I've called this portrait of her, Georgia, the Life Writer. 
Peace