I came across an
article
on Time Magazine about photographer Melissa Spitz. Her work involved making her
mother the main subject of her photographs. I’m sure photographing parents or family members
and elevating their portraits into art isn’t unheard of, but what makes Spitz’s
work a bit different has drawn mixed opinions and reactions from people who
have learned about her objective.
According to
Time, Spitz has spent the last six years documenting her mentally ill mother
through photography. She explains in the interview: “There are people who think I exploited my mom, and think that I’m doing something wrong, and then there’re people who think I’m doing something very important.”
Now, I think
some people don’t really mind becoming public subjects as long as they agree with the kind of representation artists
render. In Spitz case, her mother asked to be photographed until she told her to go all out with her life. She even admitted to feeling bad about it at first, but it eventually helped them bond again even with her mother's condition.
Those who think Spitz is taking advantage of her mother to “put up another art show” may be too quick to judge. I believe much of art’s content is greatly affected by what concerns the artist. The work can later on possess transformative powers for the audience as well as the artist who created it. Spitz states in the same interview: “[T]he work was a conversation that was not only me watching her but also an echo of how I feel about living and dealing with her.” Spitz isn’t just putting up strange photographs in the guise of raising awareness for mental patients. What’s it like, really? By doing this, she attempts to demonstrate how it is to be patient and strong for a family member struck with mental illness.
Those who think Spitz is taking advantage of her mother to “put up another art show” may be too quick to judge. I believe much of art’s content is greatly affected by what concerns the artist. The work can later on possess transformative powers for the audience as well as the artist who created it. Spitz states in the same interview: “[T]he work was a conversation that was not only me watching her but also an echo of how I feel about living and dealing with her.” Spitz isn’t just putting up strange photographs in the guise of raising awareness for mental patients. What’s it like, really? By doing this, she attempts to demonstrate how it is to be patient and strong for a family member struck with mental illness.
I think what
society criticizes is the unapologetic exhibition of the private life, more so
when a person is ill or disadvantaged because it is largely seen as a helpless
person who did not have a say in the matter, who’s just another subject for
media consumption until the next interesting and unusual thing comes along. A person
may be offended when they’re photographed or captured in a video because 1)
they don’t have control over how they are represented 2) because someone has
invaded their privacy 3) along with a number of other privacy and public space
issues (because of the arbitrary some-things-are-just-inappropriate-for-the-viewing public).
People
sympathize with the notion that someone might be stealing moments from a person’s
most vulnerable disposition to be later looked at closely by the public. Those who "exploit" do this to
grab people’s attentions, and perhaps to even make some money (though I doubt
Spitz is making any real money out of this project). While I understand this
point, I would like to maintain my openness to art and whatever form it might
take. I also believe a closer look is exactly what it demands.
--
I’m quite a
reserved individual myself. For someone attempting to write and publish, I have
almost zero exposure. I understand the need for privacy and value my personal
space. For a while I even thought this fear of exposing myself has kept me from
writing about subjects that mattered to me. Because in the age of Facebook,
Instagram, Viber, not to mention annoying aunts, uncles, and acquaintances that
always manage to tell me what I should and should not believe, sometimes I just
don’t want to have an opinion anymore (such is the adult experience, you
realize some of the people you’ve known can be quite imposing). To add to that,
I admit I’m almost always afraid of being wrong 90% of the time. It can really
kill critical thinking and sound thinking in general.
The air of
indifference surrounding these social (media) interactions just drove me further
into silence. They have a tendency to seem like announcements; nobody listens really, many of them don't feel like real conversations. As a
result, I made my online accounts private, used pseudonyms, logged in less, and
only added friends I felt safe to interact with.
Writing provides
me with a space for myself. It’s tough to keep that space from
being infected by the world outside (distractions are everywhere). I try to write
because it keeps me focused enough to think for myself. If it’s one thing I’ve
been struggling with, it has always been balancing how much of myself I
can expose and retain from my work. I’ve been told to disclose
more, that I’ve too much restraint. I still keep asking: up to what point should I reveal of
myself?
When I write, it’s
strangely with the thought that I wish to somehow disappear in my work. I guess
what I’ve been looking for isn’t myself but something beyond myself. All this
time all I might be hoping for is to see through the world beyond mine and what
I already know.
--
I worked for a
television show when I was a young graduate a few years ago. In one of my assignments,
I booked an interview with a female fashion photographer named Sarah Black. I
recall it was for an episode which featured various Filipino women in the art,
fashion, business and entertainment industry. My producer couldn’t make it for
some reason so I ended up conducting the interview myself.
I was with our
cameraman kuya Randy, who apparently won an award for shooting a documentary
that I did not know of at the time. I was the production newbie, and in those
days, co-workers hardly told me anything about the job. I had to know things
for myself.
When it came to
shoot stand-ups, which are basically action shots of the subject, kuya Randy wanted
to take as much footage as possible. He probably takes over three hours of
footage for each segment with only ten to thirteen minutes edited
into the show. Anyway, that’s how shooting usually works (at least from my
brief stint in local TV). The truth is people behind the camera never have
enough beautiful subjects and satisfying angles, shots, lighting, and time. They breathe all these elements. Taking a shot is like a reflex action to them. They can’t miss that moment.
When kuya Randy
motioned to shoot more stand-ups, Sarah Black began feeling uncomfortable. She asked if it was necessary for him to take so many shots at various angles doing
different things at certain positions. I found this to be quite odd knowing she
was a photographer. But I quickly sensed she was too familiar with this
routine, that when the lenses were turned on her, she felt the urge to hide.
That was the thing, she agreed to be interviewed, but suddenly felt
self-conscious when the camera pried on her. We moved from shooting a professional
interview to suddenly taking parts of her that she didn’t consent to.
I could
empathize with Miss Black’s unease, I actually even felt embarrassed because it was as if we betrayed her trust. It didn’t take long before I told kuya Randy
to stop filming. I would have allowed the shoot to continue if Miss Sarah showed signs of openness, but she kept her cover. I reasoned we had interviewed Miss Black before so we could just
use the old footage in the archives. I let the reticent photographer fly out but not without double takes of her hazel-gray eyes and long raven hair.
On the way back
to our office, kuya Randy schooled me on how to never stop a shoot even if
the subject was starting to feel uneasy. After x number of years in the field,
he said that looking closer and longer is one way to show how beautiful
something is. He explained that their vulnerability made them more real. He then talked about how he shot a documentary about a disabled child. I won't go into further detail, but he believed the documentary won an award because people were moved by the child's loathsome condition. Kuya Randy's exact words were naaawa sila sa bata.
I personally sneer at the business of poorly manipulating people's emotions. At the same time, I learned that invasion of privacy constitutes the quest for truth. I'm sure the said documentary raised awareness. I just really hope more people and institutions helped the child after the story was aired. Was it a form of exploitation by the media? Were they merely being a good journalistic team? I have mixed feelings about this, it obviously isn't my cup of tea.
Being disrespectfully invasive wasn't the way I wanted to do my job. I still didn’t agree with kuya Randy, I maintained my position even when the producer gave me hell for it in the next couple of days.
I personally sneer at the business of poorly manipulating people's emotions. At the same time, I learned that invasion of privacy constitutes the quest for truth. I'm sure the said documentary raised awareness. I just really hope more people and institutions helped the child after the story was aired. Was it a form of exploitation by the media? Were they merely being a good journalistic team? I have mixed feelings about this, it obviously isn't my cup of tea.
Being disrespectfully invasive wasn't the way I wanted to do my job. I still didn’t agree with kuya Randy, I maintained my position even when the producer gave me hell for it in the next couple of days.
I value my personal
space just as much as I respect another's. I thought there was no way I could uphold this while
working with local media (I don't know how other journalists do it, but it requires careful handling). Right then, I knew I’d pack up in search for a new
job a few months later. I wasn't cut out to have a career in Philippine Media. And I don't believe it's necessary to reveal more,
especially under tawdry lights you couldn’t control.
