Is documentary photography doomed??

air show 1,
originally uploaded by DawnOne.

Another day of dive bombing jets at the air show. If it was only crazy stunts in the sky and nothing more. The Sat. Toronto Star published a plane spotting guide to help us identify the aircraft. Particularly disturbing were the descriptions of their past missions- "strikes in the no-fly zones in Iraq", "Operation Desert Fox", "air cover for strike on Libya in 1986" (which, as I recall, killed Qadhafi's adopted baby daughter). Good old-fashioned family entertainment. A reminder that the evil empire of today will become your ally in the war on terror tomorrow, with renewed access to oil wells throw into the bargain. Today Libya, tomorrow Iraq, again, as we shouldn't forget that Saddam was once America's special friend Trusted today, trussed tomorrow. Only the Snowbirds, the sole Canadians in the show, were described as an aerial acrobatic team and not cited for any combat roles. As I heard the planes, I thought- that we were all sharing sounds which had been previously heard in other parts of the world, as the bombs hit . Or in most cases, were not heard at all as the plane by this point is long gone. The boom follows the sound of exploding buildings, screams and flying body parts. Only the casualties who survive and grieving family members are privy to it. I photographed people on the beach with their families, skipping stones on the lake in between sorties. Looking up to watch when the planes buzzed them- or already bored and ignoring them. The scene reminded me of the movie, On the Beach. The Apocalypse. I wondered if my mother and her brothers and sisters had in any way enjoyed the spectacle when bombs had targeted them during the Second World War. She loves the air show now. So many people on the lakeshore from such diverse backgrounds- many of them recent emigrants, escaping deadly wars still fresh in their minds. How did they feel, watching, listening to this. Did they find it entertaining?

air show 2,
originally uploaded by DawnOne.

Background note- The other day the police chief of this paranoid town personally tackled and arrested a male photographer in his 40s as he photographed children at the CNE- an annual fun fair. I don’t know the full circumstances or even the eventual outcome, but according to the local paper, one of the alleged signs that the photographer was "suspect " involved a camera masked with tape in order to disguise it! I rather took this as a clue that he was possibly a professional photographer, or enlightened amateur. You see, this was quite common in the days of SLRs (35mm cameras which use film) and I've even seen the practice continued today on shiny digital cameras. Most SLRs were silver metal and black bodied cameras, while considered more "professional", were also pricier. Many people resorted to taping the shiny metal in flat black tape- to avoid the glare of reflections and, yes, to avoid attracting a subject’s attention. Back then it was perfectly acceptable to engage in street photography. As for the subject, to emerge in public meant becoming fair game for anyone's lens. End of story.
Why did Toronto's police chief earn accolades for assaulting an unarmed photographer with no apparent motive, unless it's being withheld from the press? Toronto as a city is particularly worried for its children in wake of a tragic kidnapping and murder last year, coupled with a media frenzy tying in kiddie porn on the internet. There are valid concerns, though they hardly suggest Toronto is a besieged city. Our travails pale in comparison and scale to what thousands of women, men and children are suffering in Sudan at this moment. Mass rapes, murder, mutilations, HIV exposure, torture, exodus, starvation and disease. Not to mention that most victims of kiddie porn and child prostitution reside in abjectly poor third world countries with no recourse to justice. And many of their visiting "uncles" are on sex tours originating in the " First World". But hey, let's get back to pretending that we're the centre of the universe.

Boy with no body!,
originally uploaded by DawnOne.

CNE photos


I have a problem with all the restrictions being placed upon documentary photographers as a result of the hysteria. Last month one of my favourite photographers, Cartier Bresson, died. He was the master of documenting people - minute gestures and expressions captured unobserved by his lens became symbolic of a humanity we all share. He coined the term, the "decisive moment", and we photo students were his avid disciples. Engaged in a discipline which entailed that one observe the subject patiently and wait for the right moment, when the image captured becomes a philosophical truth unto itself. When I heard of the CNE photographer's arrest, I thought, hmmm... I was at the CNE that day, doing what appears to been a similar thing (unless he was peeking under flying skirts on upside down rides, which, come to think, I've probably photographed too.) He could just as easily have been me- or, being female, am I more protected by virtue of my less threatening gender?

Pick a Duck- CNE,
originally uploaded by DawnOne.

Back to the air show and merry go round. I was practicing shooting moving objects- in this case, a child in a car ride with my relatively new digital camera. Nothing successful. Then I spotted a punk with green hair who was working the twirling strawberry ride. I used to be a punk and thought that this was a new take on it- quite amusing. I asked to photograph him and we were engaged in making portraits when suddenly an aggressive yuppy father confronted me. "You were photographing my daughter- do you want a release or something? Shouldn’t you ask my permission? How would you like it…" Etc. Actually, I hadn’t been concentrating at all on photographing his daughter, but was rather trying to demonstrate that the punk was actually working with the rides and not merely standing beside them. Normally I offer to email photos to my subjects, to engage them in the process and share, but was affronted by his hostile manner. I then noticed that the little boy with him was the same one who had been riding on the miniature cars I had shot. Perhaps the father thought I was following them, however he had certainly heard my discussions with the punk ride attendant about making portraits of him. I tried to explain to the father that I have a son too, and no- would not be upset if someone had photographed him. As a photographer, I understand this. And that attitudes like his were putting at risk the kind of documentation we will be left with of this epoch. If we are not permitted to ocassionally engage in street photography unobserved, if every image must be previously negotiated and constructed, then the resultant photos will be static, superficial – there will be no more Cartier Bressons, and no wonderfully candid images to illustrate to future generations how we really existed in this time.

I would never destroy a negative for anyone, but digital photography is a different beast. I decided after he left to erase the photos of his son- they had not been successful in any case and I wanted more to remove evidence of his tirade. I understand a desire to protect one's children, but where does one draw the line. If the day arrives that I cannot photograph unimpeded, I shall stop and deny the world any further contributions as an artist. It is hard to have one's efforts continually undervalued.