February 5: I am standing with a group of women on a carpet made of rice stalks. I find it odd because my family grows cotton, although there are many rice farms along the Mississippi. I am amazed that the carpet is so stable. As we float down the river, we observe a white man with a camera. I am remembering Jefferson Davis. He thinks that we are inferior to him and hates that we now live in the house once owned by him and Varina.
"What does he want?", asks one of the women, angered by the fact that the man has "entered" our space uninvited. Our bodies tighten, almost in unison as he points the device toward us. For some reason, I am reminded of my garden and musical notes. Each note, each flower stands separate from the other, yet when they come together it is a harmonious setting indeed. I remember my family as the women draw closer as if to protect me and I realize that I am coming closer to realizing my true self. Photo credit: Portrait of Delia, Harvard (preserve.harvard.edu/.../ images/woman.jpg)
Assuming MV
In this piece MV has actually joined the women on the rice raft. I have assumed MV's body in my imaginal space.
A couple of things might be considered in this narrative. First, rice becomes an important part of the imaginal space. What do you remember about rice? Why is rice so important? How might rice become a part of the installation? Secondly, an intruder is introduced. He is a white photographer. MV remembers Jefferson Davis who frequently visited Hurricane and Brierfield. The Montgomerys actually lived in Davis's former mansion at Brierfield. Dorothy Sterling notes in We Are Your Sisters, Black Women in the 19th Century, (p. 466) "Unlike his brother, Jefferson Davis was a firm believer in black inferiority. To be greeted in his former home by a well-dressed, educated black woman must have been a disturbing experience for the ex-president of the confederacy."
The white photographer has entered into the women's lives uninvited. The women become defiant when he turns his camera toward them. But what do they fear? After all he is far away and the camera is simply a machine. Could it be that they fear he wants something for nothing? I am reminded of the J.T. Zealy photograph above of Delia who was, according to the website "an American born slave." Can a person be born a slave? How would MV answer this question?
Going back to the photograph, what does the women's body language say about them? If you were on the rice raft, how would you pose? Furthermore, how might our installation challenge the way that African American women are remembered in photographs? What other issues of identity come to mind as we float past the white photographer on the our Rice Raft in South Carolina?
Images that we have taken of ourselves challenge stereotypical notions. These images might be vintage photographs of family members that are incorporated into a piece or they might be self-portraits. They might also be both. Has Sistagraphy ever done an installation that uses both vintage images and self-portraiture? Remember, duality is an underlying theme in the installation.
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posted by Marshall-Linnemeier | 12:29 AM
2 Comments:
It is possible that the camera becomes a foreign object in a familiar space. An intrusion that attempts to move into (and affect) a realm of religious, spiritual, and mythological symbols and experiences.
I resonate, to a degree, with Jung's Collective Consciousness vs. Personal Consciousness. (though I see it from more of a Spiritual perspective).
The world of the Collective Unconscious is the realm in which these women move and have their being. It is the silent energy that flows between each spirit. It is the thread that connects and binds each soul.
The intrusion of the camera threatens that connectivity. It seeks to fragment that unision. The stances of the women reflect an energy of defiance and solidarity. An energy that will not be diminished with the depression of a "shutter".
Sunday's meeting was inspirational everybody. I always come home filled with new ideas. After mulling over the discussion from Sunday and Lynn's comments here I began to think about a few other ways to get into the concepts Lynn is taking us through. For instance, we talked about the intrusion of the photographer into these womens' space and how their bodies speak their outrage at this intrusion. We also talked about the disconnect between what the photographer sees/is trying to capture and how the women refused to be "captured," choosing instead to decide for themselves how they will be seen. Two things occur to me then. First, it would seem that playing with self-portraits is the perfect way to respond to the question of how we are remembered in photography. There is an interesting doubled gaze (at minimum) of you as photographer and you as subject. How often do we get to re/construct our bodies, our images? I love how Renee Cox does this in her work (the Yo Mama images). Also, didn't she do Hotentot Venus 2000? Talk about signifying on stereotypes.
The other idea I was thinking about is family albums. For the last 6 months or so I have been collecting photo albums of Black families from the 19th century up through the 70s. There is a certain opennes, playfulness, and power that is present in these images that I can't stop looking at. Also, I don't think I see these characteristics in images anywhere else. Anyway, just a few thoughts.
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