Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Thoughts on 'Case Study: Migrant Mother'


I really enjoyed reading the frame in which Wells put the case of Migrant Mother, and the experience of an image turning into an icon. She posed it as an example to demonstrate different ‘takes’ on the picture, so I (as the reader) could comprehend the extensive ways by which any individual could interpret the endless facets that make up an image- it’s formal qualities, it’s historical context, it’s objective and subjective qualities, etc. Another element about Wells’ presentation of the material is her inclusion of a feminist analysis - which is awesome! I love considering that stream of thought while digesting the material, and I just appreciate the conscious addition of female ideas on identity in photography.

Specifically, as I read and thought about the ideas on the Migrant Mother photograph, I tended to remain focused on the relationship of photographer to subject. Here, “The woman is used purely as subject. She is appropriated within a symbolic framework of significance as declared and determined by Lange… she wasn’t interested in ‘her name or her history’” (40). This made me think back to our discussion about Riis in class, and how we posited whether or not he knew the people he was photographing, and whether or not it was worth the photo-for-a-cause to invade someone’s personal, private lives? It later mentions how the real ‘migrant mother’ is a woman named Florence Thompson. They found her living in a trailer home in California and still stated that the image ‘had done her no good’. Hm. Could documentary photography have the intent on changing these societal ills, but never actually do more than create temporary awareness?


            This issue reminds me of another iconic image along the same lines, by Steve McCurry known as ‘Afghan Girl’ (1984). Referred to as the ‘the first world’s third world Mona Lisa’, it has been reproduced and recognized as perhaps the most famous National Geographic cover. Just as McCurry did not know the girl in the photo, neither did Lange. I watched a short documentary on YouTube of McCurry’s quest to find the Afghan Girl many years later, and after intense research, they found the Pakistani woman, Sharbat Gula. The instance was similar to Florence Thompson. Sharbat too (though no longer a refugee), was still living in poor conditions. The photo didn’t do much for her. So, are photographers in this sense, merely fooling themselves into believing that they can bring a change by taking a photo? Are they just trying to present a place and personhood that you otherwise would not relate to, without seeing? These questions starts to become a difference between privileged ‘photographer hero’ and ‘subject’, which rides a dangerous line of responsibility and moral correctness on the accuracy of whatever is being portrayed in a photograph. These are tough questions to ask, and vary so widely depending on the kind of photograph, time, place, etc. It can actually become pretty existential to me in the end- what is real then, anyways?

5 comments:

Unknown said...

I was interested by your question: "Could documentary photography have the intent on changing these societal ills, but never actually do more than create temporary awareness?"

This is a good question to think about. I think in the case of Hine, his work did create more than a temporary awareness. People learned, through images like his, that maybe children should not be allowed to work and become "human junk." Even today we look at child labor in developing and 3rd world countries as negative, as if they are missing out on the Westernized version of childhood that we think every child should have. This is only one example where this awareness became more permanent, but I do think that a lot of documentary photography only builds a temporary awareness, especially because we are so far removed from much of the societal ills happening in other countries. If we can't do much to change these problems as an individual then we often don't focus on them for very long.

Anonymous said...

Your post is very well thought out. It is very clear. Also it helped my understanding on the question.Also it relates very well to what we learned in class. I am very interested by your question: "Could documentary photography have the intent on changing these societal ills, but never actually do more than create temporary awareness?" I agree with Kiana's answer.

Anonymous said...

The issue of creating temporary awareness versus a permanent awareness is not something I had considered up until now. I think the problem with the ability of documentary photography to create a permanent awareness is the context through which we often view it: in newspapers and magazines. These are contexts which are prone to being forgotten as we digest subsequent issues. Almost as if the last thing we read about it the most important thing on our minds regardless of what we have read previously. I am not suggesting that there is any alternative to this. Perhaps art photography is more apt to creating a lasting sense of awareness since it its not presented serially. This could be an interesting discussion.

HopeAbandoned said...

i really liked you're ending sentence, it states a huge question, and by doing that you have your readers really things about it. I personally thought the same thing when reading the case study, could documentary photograph have the intent on changing these societal ills? I'm not sure, i think i agree with what you said that it may never actually do more than create temporary awareness. people knew about this image for years, had seen it somewhere, but they didn't even know the author of the image let alone who it was of, what the context to the image was, and most never thought to search and find out, so I'm not sure if it needs to be taken into the hands of companies like the FSA who employ these photographers and know the situations in which these images are taken, to make a real social change. -Emily Walsh

Cat Boyce said...

I'm really intrigued by the question you posed "could documentary photography have the intent on changing these social ills, but never actually do more than create temporary awareness?" That is exactly what I was thinking when I read this case study. It is interesting to question how much social change actually will come from photographs or even any medium of artwork for that matter. Documentary photographers are constantly sharing stories to push for social change or raise awareness, but if nothing is done to address the issue being raised (other than awareness) should that photograph be seen as a successful iconic image? The question of objectification comes in to play too, as we touched upon briefly in class. Are documentary photographers just objectifying people for their own benefit? I'd like to think most photographers seek out to further raise funds or help the people in which they have photographed, and inspire others to create change as well. I, myself, have found myself questioning my own intentions in my photography if it enters the realm of documentary. I've seen many tourists and am guilty of it myself, taking photographs of homeless people, as they walk by (granted majority of these shots are probably amateurs). Yet, probably more often than not, that snapshot was taken without permission, without any benefit for the homeless person, and probably will be forgotten. However, on the other side, you never know what the power of an image might be. I'm sure Lange didn't intend for her photograph to become so iconic. And although, it may not of caused direct improvement in the McIntosh’s life, it has served it’s purpose as an icon during the Depression. It brings up another discussion for ethics. In a world where we have essentially no privacy, are we entitled to privacy in public? Can photographers take photographs of you without your permission if you are in a public place? I think documentary photographers will always have to find a balance between ethics and morals and getting the visual story they want to raise the awareness without harming the individual.