Phreshly Squeezed

In discussing the question of poverty, we often find it in opposition to luxury, and for valid reasons. After all, the dichotomy is quite apparent – poor versus rich, luxury versus necessity, barren versus full. Although we have been known to question the opposition with regards to the ideas in abstract, we do not as often find ourselves interrogating the representation of poverty in direct contrast to its opposite, especially in an area that finds itself revering the “luxurious” – that field being fashion photography. In this paper, we will examine how fashion photography deals with the subject of poverty by means of treating excerpts from two recent and “controversial” editorials: Flair’s September 2007 piece titled “Post Moderno,” and Antidote Magazine’s fall/winter 2011 editorial titled “Lost in Translation.”

Before discussing this constructed archive, one must acknowledge the notes already made on fashion photography by French theorist Roland Barthes. Proposed in “Fashion Photography,” an appendix to the 1967 work The Fashion System, Barthes posts that within fashion photography, there are three key styles – objective, romantic, and mockery [1]. With regards to this particular set of images, it can be said that, as an overarching theme threading these photographs together, that this archive exhibits qualities of objectivity and mockery. To exemplify, we can take a look at Figures 3 and 8 – each representative of their respective editorial – which illustrate the lifestyle of those in poverty. In depicting life in poverty in India and scene of metropolitan homelessness we can sense that there is indeed an air of literalness in what is shown. To pinpoint what exactly is so “literal” or convincing, each photograph articulates a different sense of the “objective.” Figure 3, for instance, focuses more so on the essence of human subjects, and the environment that envelops them. In photographing the “slums” and its inhabitants, the viewer cannot deny that there is a literalness presented in the photograph. Figure 8 presents neither the environment nor “real people” that Figure 3 has in its depiction of the literal. Instead, Figure 8 utilizes emotion to convey a literal portrayal. The contrived distress speaks to the studium [2], which asks the audience to put this emotion in the context of the Western sphere in association with the construction of the image. In effect, we can surmise that because “homelessness is shameful” and “one would be distressed if this happened to them,” [3] and it is applicable in the photograph, it can be considered literal because of the Western context and understanding.

Figure 8. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. (http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

However, in this “literal” depiction of poverty, there is also the condition of mockery, which is distinctly present by depiction of the model. It is rather apparent, based on studium [4], that the model does not belong to this particular literal interpretation, but is rather, impinging by inserting herself into the image and mimicking the “look,” but with a more luxurious spin. In effect, the photographs’ status as only “objective” faces a challenge. This interjection of the model presents a quality of pastiche [5] in the photographs.  As a result, while there is semblance of literalness portrayed in the photographs, the objectivity is subverted to some extent by the main subject herself.

In questioning the identity of the fashion photograph, the archive itself can also be called into question. According to French philosopher Paul Ricoeur in his 1978 essay “Archives, Documents, Traces,” an archive is comprised of three main characteristics; reference to a notion of a document or record, relationship to an institution, and action of putting documents produced by an institution into an archive by means of deciding between discarding and preservation. It is to say that the archive is an organized body of documents. We can draw correlations between this particular archive and the latter two of the characteristics that Ricoeur posits; a relationship to an institution is similar to the photographs having relation to Flair or Antidote Magazine, which serve as an institution, and the decision as to what goes in and out of the archive is dictated by an authority, much like the magazine’s editors. However, the question as to whether they are or are not records is one that begs for further interrogation.

In examining these photographs, it becomes seemingly impossible not to ask what validity an image holds as a document.  It is to say that by looking at Figures 4 and 10, for instance, can we say that what is portrayed is in fact truth in its entirety? Is this how the impoverished really behave and dress? Ricoeur postulates that records or documents have a particular sense of objectivity, whereas monuments are carry a particular context that serve as commemoration, and have been demystified in meaning (68). This stipulation with regards to photographs being records, and records being a part of the archive, can perhaps be salvaged with the argument that Ricoeur means for the document to function as a trace left by the past (68). Where snapshots, traditional portraiture, documentary photograph explicitly capture “what has been,” fashion photography seems to capture “what should be.” That is not to say that these photographs do not belong in an archive; they can be considered to be a record of truths, in terms of viewpoints and beliefs.

This archive, in some sense, shares some characteristics with National Geographic. New York Times art critic Andy Grundberg comments on the photographs in his 1988 essay “Decoding National Geographic” with the following words:

“represent[ing] the apotheosis of the picturesque… embody[ing] many of the same conventions of colour and form as plein air painting. They aim to please the eye, not to rattle it. As a result of their naturalism and apparent effortlessness, they have the capacity to lull us into believing that they are evidence of an impartial uninflected point of view.” (Grundberg 175)

Because of the affiliation with an institution, there is bound to be a particular likeness in censorship. While we see that National Geographic illustrates a “softer” reality for aesthetic purposes, we find that these two fashion magazines – Flair and Antidote Magazine – have opted for a particular photographic “look” so as to capture, but not disgust, their audiences. There is a particular forwardness, but it is subdued by a more muted colour palette and lack of explicitness. While Figure 6 is depicted in black and white, the destitute village is almost etherealized by the stark contrast in lighting. In creating more lights than darks, there is a certain added brightness to the quality of the image. Though the people featured are evidently poor, they are not shown in the worst of conditions. It is to say that the photographer and institution exposes the viewer to some degree of “shock” so as to garner the needed attention, but mitigates the shock with a “not as severe” poverty as depicted here. Figure 7, however, delivers an image that is more destitute than Figure 6. The direr situation of a crowded household is lessened by the rich blue background that overtakes the image. The other vivid colours featured and the somewhat slanted framing add a curiosity that intrigues the viewer in such a way that they do not seek to ask many questions upon first glance.  The darkest figure of the photograph, like Figure 6, is the model. By shedding lightness on the impoverished and darkness on the luxurious, the “shock value” is balanced and the photograph can be deemed aesthetically appropriate. Where National Geographic has more control in the selection of its shots, this archive makes use of lighting and indeterminate situations for its depictions of poverty.

In referencing professor and writer James Polchin’s essay “Not Looking at Lynching Photographs,” we realize that images can infer different notions of truth and reality, simply by the context of the viewer. Polchin articulates that lynching photographs could be perceived to be as positive memorable tokens for the Southern whites, whereas the photographs, in a more negative light, could be deemed as warnings to northern blacks that such a future could arrive. Similarly, the derived meaning(s) of these fashion photographs are multiple.

On one hand, we could say that the message is to sell luxury in an artistic portrayal, whereas on another hand, we can say that it is a commentary of what we have and what they do not have. Instead of commenting on “what has been,” as Barthes would say, the photographs are commenting on “what is.” It is to say that these photographs do not capture a particular past, but rather a particular and current ideology or thought of what we perceive to be the definition of poverty. The inference of what to be the photographic message bases itself on the context of not only the archive, but also on the lens by which the viewer looks at these photographs. Coming back to the idea of photographic truth, it can be said that the “truth” in this archive’s collection is the particular understanding or viewpoint that is held on what the photographer and institution believe to be “poor.” From a commercial standpoint, the archive holds little meaning apart from “pretty images,” whereas from a theoretical standpoint, it poses representational and framing problems, which we will examine.

According to Barthes, photographs are “violent” (1979: 94). They are not necessarily violent because of their subjects, but are violent because their nature. What is meant by the aforementioned is that photographs give viewers no choice in what is displayed and seen. It is to say that the subject and its framing force a sort of confrontation with the viewer. Figures 1, 2, and 11 demonstrate this sort of violence, in which the spectator cannot help but be subjected to what the photographer has set as the boundaries of viewing. Even if the audience wants to see beyond the photograph, to grasp hold of the larger context on-hand, it isn’t possible. The close and intimate shot of Figure 11 leaves little context for the viewer; there is no indication of an actual location, rather, the only indication of anything is the subject and the immediate environment constructed for the purposes of the photograph. This sense of “homelessness” is forced upon the viewer with our gaze directed to the model, who in turn directs our gaze with hers onto the heap of clothing adjacent to her. The violence in the photograph in this particular case not only lies in the deliberate framing, but also in the fierce directing that takes place in shifting our gaze onto an intended object.

Figure 11. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. ( http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

Figures 1 and 2 speak to a different tone of violence, as they do not fully eclipse all possible contexts. Both photographs depict the impoverished environments to fuller extents than Figure 11 by showing glimpses of buildings and roads, along with people. With that said, however, it can be noted that Figure 1’s framing lends to a more closed scene with children flanking the model on both sides, in addition to background filled with more children and urbanity, whereas Figure 2’s framing lends to a more-open ended approach, what with its open and less populated roads, which in turn permits the viewer to believe that there is more beyond this photograph to be investigated. Such a perception aids in mitigating the violence of the photograph’s presence by lending an air of possibility to the viewer. As can be seen from both of these photographs, the violence isn’t in the subject’s gaze, which directs the viewer, but rather, the richness of context delivered in a fixed space.

Of these three photographs, there can be said to be two results. The first being that photographs, in their violence, cannot only force a particular scene onto us, but also direct our gaze exactly to a particular point. The second result being that with a particular open-endedness forced onto us by the photograph, there is a desire to find what is “outside” of it. However, in order to do so, we look deeper into the image in search of particular nuances that would aid and lead us onto this path “outside” of the photograph. In a sense, this search for “what may be there” can be likened to the work of schools Marianne Hirsch and Leo Spitzer in their article “Incongruous Images: Before, During, and After The Holocaust.” While the subject matter is clearly different, the desire to look past the photograph based on something specific to the image (in their case, the gold star) is similar. But because Hirsch and Spitzer look to the identifying of what are icons in a particular moment and time, they are successful in defining what it is they are in search of, whereas there is no particular object that denotes a particular status or meaning. It is to say that there are no (universal) image-icons that relate to poverty.

Building on the concept of image-icons and identification, we must discuss the notion of absent memories, but in a frame that is varied from what has been proposed by scholar and author Marita Sturken, who articulates that society relies on photography to remember events and circumstances, and without proper image-icons, we lack a sense of “what has been,” and hence find there to be an “absent memory.” Instead, what we find is that in the contemporary, our absent memory isn’t of a historical event, but of a time and place in the “now” that does not directly coincide with ours. There is no image-icon associated with the present or the ongoing, or rather, the “insignificant [6].” Because there is no particular or direct association with the idea of poverty, we find that we are more apt to accepting the images as they are, and do not question their “validity” in representation of a particular economic climate. The mentality, in this case, because there are no image-icons to base ideas upon is that “it looks about right from what we have heard from media, so we will accept it.”

Coming back to Barthes, we recall that the punctum is what pricks or disturbs us most about a photograph. It may be immediately evident, or it may not. This archive, in general, and more specifically Figure 9, speaks in a way that explicitly denotes the out-of-place model not to be the punctum, but rather, her attempt at “fitting in” into the scene. It can be said that the punctum [7] in this case relies on the notion of postmemory. However, this notion of the postmemory [8] differs from what the usual definition in this case; given that the photographs in this archive are constructed, or rather, staged, they do not possess the same “after-event” with which we are familiar. For instance, if we were to take Figure 9 and consider it to be “truthful” and “authentic,” we would be more apt to say the photographer was capturing a desperate moment with regards to the subject and her state of starvation – but we know better. This image is far from being reflective of authenticity, and purports instead a sense of falsehood. This notion of falsehood stems from the fact that the model does not belong in this particular world; she is merely playing a role that would make her appear to be a part of the impoverished.  To put it more succinctly, we acknowledge that the subject exits this constructed cadre and re-enters reality, and lives a life (most likely contradictory to what has been portrayed). In effect, the usual sense of postmemory is subverted because it does not negotiate the knowledge dependent on a temporal distance, but rather knowledge dependent on the distance between portrayal and reality. Apart from recognizing the punctum to be concentrated on this idea of a redefined postmemory, there are subtleties of a secondary punctum dealing with a more traditional postmemory.

Figure 9. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. ( http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

Drawing upon Figure 5, we notice that the model is the main feature of the photograph; however, those that are around her elicit more interesting questions. To ask who these people are and what they do almost seems irrelevant as the context that is provided for us (i.e. poverty in India) overrides the desire to know “what has been” and focus on the postmemory, or rather, “what may be.” Postmemory and studium dictate that these economic situations do not bode well for what we hope to be “happy endings.” Instead, postmemory and studium dictate that this family will likely encounter more hardships.

So what can be said of all of this? There is a particular objectification, but not by means of usual lenses of race or gender. Instead, we find the division to be that of class, and therefore add a tertiary dimension to British political scientist Timothy Mitchell, who in his essay “Orientalism and Exhibitionary Order,” refers to a system in which the “Other” is put on display, resulting in the exotic commodification of native artifacts or traditions for the hegemonic gaze (i.e. that belonging to the white man). Traditionally, notion of the “Other” often finds itself belonging to at least one of two demographic groups: one that differs from the hegemonic culture (i.e. a foreigner), and one opposite the “dominant”[9] gender (i.e. the woman). However, the argument can be made that the Other is found to be the “poor.” Belonging to neither gender nor ethnicity, this Other is far more ambiguous in its describable presence, but its feeling of unease and mounting on display is all the same.

To explicate, we can take into account Figures 4 and 10. The framing of the photograph not only puts the model on display, but also the “unusualness” of it all. Figure 10 creates the disjunction between luxury and poverty by means of fashioning the model as what can be recognized in popular culture as a “hobo.” In doing so, the focus and how the model presents herself is given focus. In effect, the model and her accompanying presence are put on display. What makes this particular photograph hard to characterize as a representation of exhibitionary order is the subtle qualities that are drawn from studium and the fact that both model and Other are heavily intertwined.

Figure 10. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. ( http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

However, in Figure 4, the Other and model are better separated, allowing for the viewer to better distinguish the two. Even though the model makes some attempt to blend into the photo, the other subjects stand out. The unfamiliarity of these faces and awkward stances signal to the viewer that they must be looked at, but in a different lens. The argument of ethnicity could be made; however, there is something much more compelling, in part because of the backdrop, and that is the economic status. The contrast between the model and the boys is quite stark. Even though thinness is revered as an ethereal quality for women, it is not so much so for men. In addition, their stance is not complimentary to their figures, which merely accentuates their boniness and malnourishment. Skin colour does lend to the fact that it does create a stark contrast between the model and the boys, which creates in turn creates a secondary focus, comparing what the model has and what the rest of the image does not.

Overall, it can be surmised that fashion photography subverts the traditional notions of postmemory, photographic truth, and exhibitionary order, re-appropriating them in a lens that is particular to the theme. In this case, postmemory and photographic truth both find issue with fashion photography due to the fact that these two aspects rely on some tie to temporal distance and logic. However, fashion photography, and this archive, in particular, do not abide by such, and instead lay importance in the construction of the image. And with that, we find that there is a stronger adherence to Ricoeur’s stipulations for the definition of the archive and the “softening” of subject matter so as to attract and keep audiences. Furthermore, this archive finds itself in ambiguity on photographic meaning; already we conceded that there is a multiplicity of meanings that a photograph may hold, though we continue to look into the image for “what may be there.” In effect, we see that there are shared traits with historical photography, however, we have to realize that with Holocaust photography, for instance, there are image-icons that can propose significance, whereas this particular archive has no historical context nor does it treat a subject that is encapsulated in memory. It is not to say that poverty is insignificant, but rather, it is something that does not have a particular moment to be captured in or defined by; poverty is ongoing. And because there are no markers of poverty as a event not to be talked about, fashion photography may simply re-appropriate it as a form of engagement by means of “controversial” editorial.

Works Cited

Barthes, Roland. The Fashion System. University of California Press, 1983. Print.

—. Camera Lucida. 1979. Hill and Wang, 2010. Print.

Campos, Jean-François. 2007. Flair. (http://jeanfrancoiscampos.com/?p=183)

Grundberg, Andy. “Decoding National Geographic.” Crisis of the Real: Writings on Photography since 1974. Aperture, 1990. Print.

Hirsch, Marianne, and Leo Spitzer. “Incongruous Images: “Before, During, and After” The Holocaust.” History and Theory 48 (2009): 9-25. Print.

Mitchell, Timothy. “Orientalism and the Exhibitionary Order.” The Visual Culture Reader. Ed. Mirzoeff, N.: Routledge, 2002. Print.

Polchin, James. “Not Looking at Lynching Photographs.” The Image and the Witness. Eds. Hallas, Roger and Frances Guerin. New York: Wallflower Press, 2007. Print.

Ricoeur, Paul. “Archives, Documents, Traces.” Inscriptions. 1978. Print.

Sekula, Allan. “The Body and the Archive.” October 39 Winter (1986): 3-64. Print.

Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. (http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

Sturken, Marita. “Absent Images of Memory: Remembering and Reenacting the Japanese Internment.” Positions 5 3 (1997). Print.

Related posts:

1. Exhibitionary Order in Fashion Photography