Shooting Wide Open

Yang Yan Kang

Burtynsky also said something about authorship in the Manufactured Landscapes film that has been helpful to me in thinking about Shops and some other project ideas. He said that one image alone is not necessarily interesting, especially for photographers who document objects that were created by other people, but a series of images which show a distinct style of interpretation is more clearly the creative effort of the photographer rather than a documentation of someone else’s work.

Instead, what he’s looking to develop in his own body of work is a “visual language” that has nothing to do with beauty, but rather serves to draw the viewer into the picture, to provide a visual hook that compels viewers to look closely and become curious about the subject matter, realize the significance of what they’re looking at.

Interestingly, Natchwey said something along the same lines in War Photographer, which follows him as he documents poverty in Indonesia, grieving families in Kosovo, genocide in Rwanda and fighting in the West Bank, among other things. In an interview, he says the aesthetic component of his photos serve to make a visual impact on viewers and make them think about the cause that Nachtwey is documenting. That underlying story is what makes an emotional impact, which is what he hopes will lead to individual action.

So both photographers don’t take stunning photographs for the sake of art or beauty; they use photography as a tool to shed light on the issues they’re concerned about.

And with that, I’ve finally got the Burtynsky bug out of me! Phew.

Greenpeace

In the stills gallery of Manufactured Landscapes, Burtynsky tells of how he tried to get permission to shoot in the largest ship breaking yard in the world in India and being denied because Greenpeace had gone in to shoot a few months before and used the images in a very negative dangers-of-shipbreaking campaign.

It’s interesting to compare Burtynsky’s arty film photos to Greenpeace’s (link above) more traditionally photojournalistic digital photos (at least they look digital to me). Burtysnky seems to focus on the composition of the these huge steel structures, and people are usually small figures. He talks apolitically about the economics of shipbreaking – how it’s cheaper to pay 100 men to carry a ropeline ($10) than to use a diesel engine and pulley ($15) to draw it in, and leaves you to come to your own conclusions. Greenpeace, on the other hand, puts the workers in the forefront, showing the dirty conditions in which they have to work. Their writing is full of drama and vitriol:

Through testimonies and pictures, the purpose of Childbreaking Yards is not only to denounce child labour but also to shed light on the socio-economic context that pushes children into one of the world’s most hazardous jobs. The report estimates that as many as one out of four workers on the shipbreaking beaches of Bangladesh are children.

Shipbreaking in South Asia is a dirty, degrading and extremely dangerous job. Wearing no protection, workers are exposed to hazardous substances such as asbestos, PCBs, heavy metals and oil residues. Accidents occur on a daily basis, leaving many workers severely injured. Death can come suddenly, from the crush of a falling steel plate or by being blown to bits when cutting torches set off residual fuels.

It’s very difficult for me to decide which approach is more effective in convincing people to take action.

Greenpeace certainly plays on our heart strings, but doesn’t mention that these people do these jobs willingly and there are probably hundreds more waiting in the eaves to take any open positions. Burtynsky does not touch the child labor issue – that even in Bangladesh child labor is illegal. Neither really address the larger sociological forces behind the poverty that drives people, children, to this kind of work, but I think Burtynsky is on the right track in encouraging us to think beyond the issue itself, to consider the larger context. If we took children out of the shipyards, would that really do anything to alleviate the poverty their families live in? Would they simply turn to some other form of hard labor? Is there any behaviors we can change in our lives to make a difference in the long run rather than just donating money to Greenpeace?

And then there is the effect these negative campaigns have. We’ve become so accustomed to seeing poverty and war in developing nations that I wonder some people haven’t become a bit desensitized to them.

And perhaps more importantly, demonizing the higher-up decision-makers instead of cooperating with them to solve the problem only alienates them and elicits a hostile defensive reaction. I don’t think we can successfully educate a person about a cause if they are feeling insulted and defensive. I once took a seminar in sustainability issues, and the moment I remember most vividly is an activist who spoke about her meeting with the director of a chemical plant.

She explained how unhealthy and damaging their run off was, and pointed out a few easy ways they could reduce their effects on the environment and ultimately people. He was receptive and had not known some of the things she spoke about. He also expressed surprise at how civil she was to him. Apparently he had take meetings with other activists who marched in and began calling him names, accusing him of being an evil person, without giving him a chance to explain his position and the company’s position. So of course he became irate ad defensive, having been insulted to his face, and no progress was made.

That sort of aggressive approach is counterproductive to the cause, since no other journalists will be able to obtain permission to shoot in the future, to bring more of these sad conditions to light. The issue suffers in the long run. On the other hand, it seems intuitive that the Greenpeace approach is more emotionally powerful and gets contributions in the short term. After all, it is much harder to convince people to permanently change their lifestyle and behavior for people on the other side of the Earth. Is it possible at all, or should we be content to extract a few dollars here and there for the appropriate organizations? Should we trust every such organizations to spend the money efficiently?

I have always assumed that humanitarian organizations are good at doing the right thing, but now I wonder if I shouldn’t be more skeptical.

Chen Jia Gang

You’ll excuse me if I haven’t got all the Burtynsky out of my system. Sometimes a work really gets into me in a good way, and I’d like to explore some of the issues a little bit longer. One of the more practical things I think about is when will I reach a level of skill that I’m comfortable with? When will I find a project which can be, as Burtynsky says, “a life’s work”? In a Twitch Film interview, he speaks about coming to the project that made him known when he was in his 40s:

Between 1985 and when I opened my business in 1990, there’s a gap there where I didn’t really produce any personal work. I thought I was sunk as an artist because I couldn’t ever get out of my own creation as a business; I thought it was just going to eat me alive. Then I was encouraged by some really key people to go out and back into the world. As he put it to me, “What would you do if the business were off your back and you could just do whatever you wanted to do?” I immediately answered, “I would go and shoot quarries because they’ve been on my mind for the last four-five years.” He said, “Do it. Just go do it. I’ll buy 10 of the prints but you’ve got to make them.”

So he snapped me out of an insane period of my life where I was working seven days a week and fourteen hours a day, exhausted. I started researching quarries and then it was that quarry series that really was the beginning of my larger acceptance into the world of art and my larger acceptance internationally as an artist. It was the beginning of the path towards an international presence and towards the ability to become totally self-sustaining as an artist.

And I think that’s a huge question. How does an artist or photographer sustain himself without having achieved any amount of presence?

By coincidence, I came upon this Malcolm Gladwell New Yorker article that touches on this briefly:
Late Bloomers: Why do we equate genius with precocity? Gladwell sorts artists into two piles (a bit of an oversimplification, but it’s illustrative, I suppose). There are the so-called geniuses who make their name right out of the gate, when they’re young, by dint of what we consider raw talent. Then there are the late bloomers, who struggle through much of their career and only hit upon the idea or work that makes them known later in life. As an example, he contrasts two writers – Jonathan Safran Foer and Ben Fountain.

Foer becomes a recognized writer right out of college – while still in college, in fact, after taking a creative writing course on a whim and travelling to Eastern Europe for 3 days to search out his roots. That was the basis for his novel Everything is Illuminated. Fountain, on the other hand, started out in real-estate and quit his job to sit at his kitchen table and begin to write. He worked for 15 years before achieving renown with a book of stories called Brief Encounters with Che Guevara, for which he travelled to Haiti 30 times.

Gladwell goes on to make the depressing point that the marketplace does not support artists who develop over longer periods of time. They must either eke out a living doing something not directly related to their work, or rely on the kindness of others. Fountain, for instance, relied on his wife, who was in essence, his patron.

That word has a condescending edge to it today, because we think it far more appropriate for artists (and everyone else for that matter) to be supported by the marketplace. But the marketplace works only for people like Jonathan Safran Foer, whose art emerges, fully realized, at the beginning of their career, or Picasso, whose talent was so blindingly obvious that an art dealer offered him a hundred-and-fifty-franc-a-month stipend the minute he got to Paris, at age twenty. If you are the type of creative mind that starts without a plan, and has to experiment and learn by doing, you need someone to see you through the long and difficult time it takes for your art to reach its true level.

This is the final lesson of the late bloomer: his or her success is highly contingent on the efforts of others. Sharie [Fountain] might well have said no to her husband’s repeated trips to the chaos of Haiti. She could have argued that she had some right to the life style of her profession and status—that she deserved to drive a BMW, which is what power couples in North Dallas drive, instead of a Honda Accord.

But she believed in her husband’s art, or perhaps, more simply, she believed in her husband. Late bloomers’ stories are invariably love stories, and this may be why we have such difficulty with them. We’d like to think that mundane matters like loyalty, steadfastness, and the willingness to keep writing checks to support what looks like failure have nothing to do with something as rarefied as genius. But sometimes genius is anything but rarefied; sometimes it’s just the thing that emerges after twenty years of working at your kitchen table.

So on some level, we equate genius not always with the caliber of the final product but with the method in which it’s produced. So it seems late bloomers have to depend on others in what is considered a somewhat undignified position in this society, or suffer the distraction of building a side career or business that has nothing really to do with the work they want to be doing.

But I suppose that isn’t really surprising. What alternatives are there?

Edward Burtynsky

Apparently some people bristle at the thought of greater goals, criticize others for hoping for an improved world and have become so wrapped up in small matters and individual displays of taste that they can’t see the world in front of their nose. It’s mind-boggling that this old review of a Burtynsky show was actually published in the New York Times.

I’m usually not a fan of breaking down negative articles and responding to them, but this piece was so inscrutably negative, it riles me. It was on the verge of being vicious. Any sort of real visual critique was so thin it was almost absent, and the piece consists mostly of cheapshots that are pretty much outright insults and snide comments made based on the reviewer, Ken Johnson’s vacuous and uninspired interpretation of Burtynsky’s works, on his assumption that Burtynsky has an agenda and the photos are lies. He looks at Burtynsky’s work and sees Hollywood, of all things. In fact, his whole argument is basically “we’ve seen it before, the scenes are too big, therefore it’s crap.”

I cannot understand why they published it at all. Here it is:

Edward Burtynsky, the Canadian photographer whose large, sumptuous and numbingly cliched color pictures are in a big exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum, specializes in a familiar genre that historians have called “the industrial sublime.” Whether shooting small things close-up (piles of discarded circuit boards awaiting recycling, for example) or big things from a distance (like marble quarries in India), he frames the subject so that it not only fills the entire picture but also, you can’t help imagining, extends almost infinitely in every direction. The effect is disorienting, awesome and alarming. The extremely detailed images often look like scenes in a Hollywood thriller. But Mr. Burtynsky has more high-minded motives. He wants to show people how human activities have altered, for better or worse, our experience of the earth’s natural topography.

One of the problems with Mr. Burtynsky’s photography is that he uses the same pumped-up pictorial rhetoric of shock and awe in almost every one of the more than 60 works on view. This produces a monotonous effect and, what’s worse, a loss of representational credibility. By applying the same compositional formula to every subject, from California tire dumps to new buildings in China, Mr. Burtynsky hammers away at the idea of the global proliferation of industrial production, destruction and waste. But he leaves out a lot of information, too.

Johnson missed the point entirely. What he sees as monotmous formula, I see as Burtynsky carrying out his very specific personal vision. In this “monotony” of supposed shock gimmicks is a clear trend of environmental destruction. But the reviewer thinks repetition results in a loss of “representational creditibility.” That’s just confusing. He seems to attribute his reaction of alarm to a rhetorical device rather than a natural reaction to a photo of reality. Is he really that jaded? Maybe he has seen too many Hollywood movies.

Furthermore, he seems completely obvlivious to the fact that the images are large because the scale and scope of these subjects is huge. In fact, that in the Lens Culture audio interview Burtynsky comments on how surprised he was by the extent of manufacturing plants and the landscapes he saw. He says that the camera actually managed to capture very little of the true vastness of the industrial undertakings. His photos are but a small slice of what you see by being there.

To criticize Burtynsky for being high-minded when he is only trying to bring attention to the state of the earth is just… I don’t even know what to call it. Low? Ignorant? Insensitive? I suspect that sort of comment comes out of a reviewer’s own guilt and insecurity with their lack of thought about such issues rather than out of any valid critical point. Oh woe that people might think about the consequences of industrialization on the planet and our future rather than about high art in a vacuum. Some of the criticisms are just confounding, to the point where Johnson almost comes off as intensely idiotic:

Because his pictures give so little sense of the physical limits of their subjects, they also convey little sense of context in broader ways. Those multicolored blocks of compacted scrap metal may look dangerously toxic, but aren’t they going to be recycled, and isn’t that a good thing? That ambiguity is itself another cliché: making bad things appear visually seductive and good things look scary is one of photography’s oldest tricks.

Sometimes Mr. Burtynsky’s photographs are misleading. Among the most arresting pictures are ones showing what appear to be aerial views of rivers colored intensely red and orange, as if they were burning within from some incredibly poisonous waste. Then you realize that these waterways are actually small enough to walk across; and a wall label explains that the color comes from iron oxide waste from a nickel mine, which seems less poisonous than the pictures would lead you to believe.

The recycling Burtynsky refers to is the reuse of precious metal components in discarded electronic devices. Much of the time, these parts must be retreived by hand by people working in unhealthy environments who come into direct contact with those metals. Recycling isn’t a good thing for everybody.

I doubt Burtynsky is trying to make ugly things beautiful. There is some inherent wonder and beauty to the things humans are capable of, the scope of the changes we make to the earth, and the control we have in precise engineering and building.

Then Johnson caps the article off with a nasty, truly nasty, bit of poison that, as far as I’m concerned, says more about his own mediocrity and small-minded bitterness than it does about Burtynsky’s legacy. Not to mention he insults photojournalists everywhere and National Geographic, which are strange targets, to say the least. No, let’s not criticize fashion mags for promoting heroin chic and brainwashing 9 year olds into dieting, let’s jump on photojournalists who generally try to draw attention to humanitarian issues.

Mr. Burtynsky’s photographic vision is closer to that of National Geographic magazine. Though technically impressive and, because of its scale, important-seeming, it offers nothing about photography or about the world that we have not already seen in the works of countless other proficient, globe-trotting photojournalists whose names have faded into the oblivion of artistic mediocrity.

Wow, Ken Johnson, whoever you are, way to convince me to never take anything you write seriously.

Edward Burtynsky

One criticism of Burtynsky is that his photos de-emphasize human beings in favor of aesthetic composition, and are too detached, too impersonal and unemotional. People are lost among the lines and clutter of industrial landscapes.

Are these people seeing the same photos I’m seeing? The photos contain almost nothing but the evidence of human activity, show the scope of human activity. If anything, they are overwhelmingly emotional. When I look at the China pictures, I can’t help but think about how incredibly capable we are, about the wonder of building these huge metal structures that have never before existed and that can do things never before done in the long pre-human history of the world. At the same time, of course, the consequences of our actions are implicit in the images – the profusion of toxic metals, the dangerous working conditions, and the displacement of people from their homes.

In a way, the criticism is true, since Burtynsky does not attempt to show the effects of toxic metal contact or workers injured on the job. But I think his choice to stand back and show the endeavor itself, the construction and the mess and the normal working environment absent individual tragedy, makes a larger statement, not about one particular issue but about our resource usage practices in general. Yes, people are mostly tiny insignificant specks in these photos, but that is the position most of us have chosen for ourselves, that is a consequence of our own doing.

We’ve reduced ourselves to inconsequentiality by shunning worthy causes – social justice, higher global standards of living – in favor of hoarding luxury goods and cheap mass-produced trinkets which give rise to severe pillaging of natural resources. Instead of figuring out how to best use our resources in a communal way and make them last, we’ve become fixated on ownership, on possessing something as an individual. We have chosen personal convenience over the greater good and have indeed become isolated specks in a vast barren landscape.

If we do in fact prefer more personal photography, images with a person upfront and center, looking at Burtynsky’s work is like zooming out for a view of the larger perspective which we’ve forgotten, of the global ecological issues we’ve neglected which now have gotten a way from us, slip beyond our control, are bigger than us, just as the Burtynsky landscapes engulf us.

At the risk of offending, to me this sort of criticism of this sort of work belies a fixation with beauty, aesthetics, personal taste, that supercedes consideration of the subject matter. It comes directly out of being trained to think that we are separate from nature. As a result, we don’t see how the state of the planet has a direct bearing on our lives. Granted, if judge Burtynsky’s photos solely by artistic, creative criteria, then maybe he’s not so original, but to me he falls squarely in on the documentary side of the line. That his work can also be exhibited as fine art is proof of how artfully they are executed.

And often this criticism is joined with the objection that Burtynsky glorifies and beautifies ugly, bad things like industrial waste, that he falls into a cliched category of photographers who are obsessed with ugly-beauty, who like to make bad photos of trash and call it art out of some anti-establishmentarian urge. Sure, there are some photos that make me feel this way, but it hardly applies to Burtynsky. In a discussion filmed as an extra on the DVD, he says that it’s not about beauty or ugliness. Rather, he works to find a visual language that is compelling, that draws people’s attention and makes them consider these industrial places, possibly in a different light.

A pile of tires or a dismantled ship is not in an of itself ugly or beautiful, and I suspect the general assumption that these things are ugly says plenty about the extent to which we do agree and acknowledge that environmental damage and the refuse from our industrial processes are unequivocally bad in a thoroughly apolitical way. This implicit understanding makes our inaction and apathy all the more unacceptable.

To me, the reasonable action following the achievement of decent standards of living is to spread it around til everyone’s got it, but instead, most of us seem to run on the desire to acquire a big house, two cars and an iPod for every family member, then acquire a bigger house, more luxurious cars and the newer version of the iPod. The vast majority of people want to make money but don’t realize their politics funnel money to the few. It really is like some sort of surreal apocalyptic distopian sci-fi story. And I have to say it: I detect something faintly apocalyptic in Burtynsky’s photos.

Sure, everyone pursues material wealth in the hope of making our lives and our families’ lives better, but we should know better. We’re indulging ourselves and there is plenty of rationallization involved. Are we really going to argue that our lives would be so much worse without the latest versions of five different electronic devices and new clothes every year?

Edward Burtynsky

Manufactured Landscapes, the film, is a good complement to Burtynsky’s stills, showing a closer perspective on the individuals, where the stills show humans ripping apart the landscape for natural resources.

In the extras, a real estate business woman shows the crew around the house in what’s basically the Chinese version of Cribs, complete with westernized teenager on her cellphone. It really hits home what China is now aspiring toward. In another extra scene, a bunch of people are crowded around a small table, rowdily enjoying a meal in a very Chinese way, with an incongruous shopping bag printed with a huge 3M logo on one of the seats beside them. That aspect of the film is missing from the stills. The connection to the West, the huge demand for consumer goods that drives this rapid development, is not directly obvious in the pictures.

I don’t like reading indictments of China in the press, citing human rights violations and politics, and not pointing out that this is a phase that the US also went through, that China is probably where the US was in the ’20s. I’m no historian, but off the top of my head – meatpacking industry, child labor in the textile factories, Tamany Hall, police corruption in LA in the ’50s, etc. Instead of acting as a guide as to what to what mistakes not to make, how to preserve natural resources, etc, the government just condemns China for all these things. Of course, it’s not in US interests to help a rising competitor, but I think that is a somewhat unhealthy capitalist mentality which focuses more on profits than creating a sustainable world community. And we all know where focusing on short term growth and wealth leads.

(Hello, financial crisis.)

Incidentally, following his 2005 TED prize, he donated photos to a sustainability site called WorldChanging.com, a magazine style site whose goal is to connect “people are working on tools for change” in different fields with each other. They recently published an article drawing parallels between the government and economists’ handling of the financial crisis to the government’s unwillingness to address climate change issues.

This crisis is a signal that we need to reassess what we value and what our long term goals are, not as individuals but as a society and a people. The accepted economic mantra of growth, growth, growth has been mirrored and in fact driven by our attitude toward and use of natural resources. (Bill McKibben wrote an interesting book on this topic called Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future. Read it.) Corporations want to expand, the rich want to be richer, everyone wants more of this or that.

Burtynsky seems less interested in indictments and more in encouraging people to think of solutions. As a photographer, he doesn’t know what those are specifically, but photography can be a part of it. From the Treehugger interview (gee, maybe you should read it!):

Right now governments — especially in the West and in North America — are painfully lacking in guidance and policy to really assist in allowing people to make better choices. I do believe policy is an important component of the movement towards a more sustainable world.

None of us can work independently of each other. Corporations have to take social responsibility more seriously than they have in the past and begin to kind of reshape themselves to become more sustainable. And individuals have to look at their habits and reshape them to reconsider how it is that we’re using the resources of this world.

How [photographic] work ultimately ends up inspiring people to action — I’m not really sure that it on its own has the capacity to do that. I think there’s a growing concern, and a growing group of people who are I think prepared to really make changes.

When I looked in the history of photography, there are examples: Watkins and his photographs of the West — that was the preservation of Yellowstone and the National Park System grew out of that. You look at Lewis Hine and his work as a photographer in child labor, and child labor laws came into play with the photographs as evidence of the wrongdoing.

I think for a long time, certainly the latter part of the 20th century, the idea that photographs can help shape social change was kind of lost. But… images are shaping and being used as the iconographic representations of the issues that we now need to grapple with in our times.

~

UPDATE:

J.M. Colberg linked to this series of posts in his blog with some very kind words. To be honest, I’m a little stunned. The internet is so huge I don’t actually expect anyone to read this blog, much less than a blogger who I follow and admire! But I’m very glad someone got something out of this, and I wanted to briefly address a point that he brought up here since he doesn’t have comments on his blog. In response to what I say above about indictments of China, he writes:

While the latter certainly might be true, that doesn’t mean that we simply have to accept what’s going on, actually quite on the contrary. To take an extreme example, just because slavery was legal in the US in its early years, that doesn’t mean we now can’t tell anyone not to have slaves now.

I agree. Certainly it would be morally lax. However, the US government does not back its verbal statements with concrete action. Instead of refusing imports from sweatshops or creating economic or political incentives to promote free speech and democracy, there is only a profusion of indictments. Without the action, these verbal reproaches take on the flavor of… well, nagging. Which is fine, they are entitled to their opinion, but I don’t like it. I should disclose that I am in fact Chinese (and an American citizen), so this topic hits a bit close to home.

Frankly, the criticisms and indictments would sit well with me if the connection between western consumerism and Chinese development and sweatshops was emphasized. But it seems that the West would like to place the responsibilty for sweatshops and pollution from industry solely on China’s shoulders, as if the two nations’ actions were completely independent of each other, when in truth the West does shoulder part of the responsibility of creating the demand for goods in the first place.

The bulk of my frustration comes not from the protests themselves, which are valid, but from the fact that while these statements are made, consumers continue to take advantage of the cheap prices of Chinese goods, and corporations continue to salivate over the large target market. With human rights violations coming to light, the demand has not eased up significantly, so it seems the west is willing to say these things with its mouth but not its pocketbook.

Edward Burtynsky

Today I watched Manufacturing Landscapes (Youtube trailer), a documentary of Burtynsky at work in China. Aside from the film itself, the extras on the DVDs, especially the slideshow with commentary by Burtynsky, are wonderful. I learned that marble has a translucent quality and that Michaelangelo’s marble was taken from quarries with very highly translucent stone of top quality. I saw his quarry photos a year or so ago when the exhibition was in town, but didn’t dig any deeper since they are more abstract, pretty than his other work. I wasn’t very serious about photography then, but now that I’ve seen his other work, he is my new role model!

I get caught up in the small hassles of making a plan, of learning the technical side, and every once in a while I need a kick in the butt to remind me of what good, relevent photography really is. His photos are incredibly well composed and artful, but the subject matter – industrial landscapes – is ultimately what jumps out at you. Part of my strong reaction was because the film focused on China, sure. It’s heartbreaking, because I want my birth nation to be advanced, to be respected, to go forward, but at the same time, “progress” on this scale is certainly not sustainable.

Burtynsky makes a point of not making any sort of overt normative statement about his subject matter. He takes the approach of trusting the content in the images and letting others come to a voluntary understanding of the subject matter rather than ramming a political message down people’s throats. At the end of the film, he says:

There are times when I have thought about my work and putting it into a more politicized environment. If I said, “This is a terrible thing we’re doing to the planet” then people will either agree or disagree. By not saying what you should see that may allow them to look at something that they never looked at and to see their world a little differently. So I think many people today sit in that uncomfortable spot where we don’t necessarily want to give up what we have, but we realize what we’re doing is creating problems that run deep. It’s not a simple right or wrong.

And in a Treehugger interview, he says:

Once people start coming to their own conclusions from seeing a body of my work, and [begin] to sense the kind of import or weight of the consequence of those places that have been created to the service of industry and the capitalist culture, if they arrive on their own to these kinds of feelings that something is wrong here — I think that has a lot more potential to raise consciousness than being told, “You need to not do that.”

We don’t really react well being told how to behave. But if we arrive at that from understanding, that there is a consequence to our actions, and we arrive at those kind of conclusions in our own ways, I think we have a much greater chance of really shifting consciousness into a new realm of concerned citizen, and someone who wants to do the right thing for future generations.

What happens is that I think most people end up in the same place without me saying, “You should end up in that place.” I think the film does bring people to this kind of place… “Oh my God, look at the scale of industry in China!” And this is a direct result of the consumer culture that we’ve developed here in the West. It is this dance that we’re doing between China as a manufacturer and us as the consumer.

It’s an admirable stance, but very difficult for the more opinionated among us!

One reaction to this stance is that he is being cleverly political by claiming not to be political, but I believe his stance is sincere. He certainly has an opinion, but to me that doesn’t equate with political. That’s like saying the statement “breast cancer is bad” is political. Environmental damage is not a political issue where you take sides. It is unevoquivocally bad for everyone, and the only people who will try to convince you otherwise sit on the boards of rich rich corporations.

I believe what he means by apolitical is trying to stay away from making any sort of judgment about what China is doing. The content of the photos is not as declarative as people think. An inherent ambiguity in some of the images makes it difficult to say definitively what the picture ‘means’. The type of images which are sometimes used to illustrate some story about the robotic monotony of industrial workshops in developing countries can also be a point of pride to builders and those trying to pull themselves out of rural poverty.

What looks like an endless ravaged industrial wasteland to a westerner might be a testament to the engineering prowess and scope of the project to a Chinese person. In an audio interview he talks how proud some Chinese are about the Three Gorges Dam, which is so large that for the days in which they were filling it, there was a measurable wobble in the rotation of the Earth. Full-on capitalism may be the wrong choice for China for many reasons, but the endeavors of all these builders and workers are wrapped in personal stories of people trying to make a living and raising a family in a society trying to transform itself into the mirror image of another. This is not simply an impersonal environmental issue in the old sense of the phrase.

Marni Horwitz

Amy Stein

Cool little Guardian article: The Naked Truth.

Manet’s favourite model, Victorine Meurent, has often been dismissed as a drunk and a prostitute. But as V.R. Main discovers, she was actually an ambitious artist.

It was more than a century after Edouard Manet’s death that the art historian Eunice Lipton discovered that his model, Victorine Meurent, had actually lived to be 83. And it seems unlikely that she was his grisette – a young woman in a casual relationship with an artist – let alone a prostitute. Most importantly, Lipton realised that Meurent had fulfilled her painting ambitions and exhibited at the 1876 Salon – in the same year that Manet’s work was rejected.

The question remains: why was Meurent so dismissed by the painter’s biographers? After all, Manet’s inner circle seems to have recognised her importance. The artist’s close friend Antonin Proust noted in his memoirs that Meurent was Manet’s favourite model; Jacques-Emile Blanche, who also knew the painter, was moved to ask, “How often does a chance meeting between a painter and a model decisively influence the personality of his works?”

Tomoko Yoneda