Representation in Photography

I love the internet, of course. It lets me access a whole wealth of content, my favorite being photographs. I’m very interested to see what everyone else is seeing through their perspective. I look at a lot of photo blogs, flickr accounts, so on, to get to see peoples photos. However, I am often disappointed and a bit confused. When I look at photographic work done by my generation, most of it looks the same. Most of what I see is white people,specifically ‘pretty,’ thin girls, doing whimsical things like running through a field or laughing while their hair blows in the wind or something. If you have a Tumblr I know you know what I’m talking about. Let me find an example…

I don’t want to discount anyones photographs. I’m not saying these photos are bad or should not be taken. This isn’t an issue of quality or validity of work. Its an issue of representation in youth photography. Where are the fat photographers/ photo subjects? The photographers of color? Trans photographers? I could even venture to ask where the financially lower class photographers are, as the people in these photos often appear to be well off (taken with high quality equipment, or color film which is pricey, but this is an assumption). I would love so much to see the perspectives of a broader range of people. I’m wondering, is it there and just hiding in an unfound corner of the internet, or are the only people my age using photography as an outlet white skinny people? Of course there are layers of nuances here relating to socioeconomic issues, the narrative visual media maintains, and so on. But I hope that a wider demographic of people will being to be represented in photography.

Bodies in Photography

When you take a lot of photos of other people its important to have your own picture taken regularly as well.Not in order to even things out or something, but so you can observes your feelings on the matter. As someone who uses photography as a diary, an outlet to making sense of things, and a profession, I take a lot of pictures. The subjects of those pictures are always people, mostly friends or family, but sometimes strangers. I’m so thankful these people allow me to photograph them incessantly, through private moments, through unflattering faces, probably through not feeling like having their photo taken. I’m so thankful for them, in part,because I’m a bit of a hypocrite. Or sometimes I feel like one. I hate having my picture taken. It pains me. Maybe it pains me a little bit more then the ‘average’ person who doesn’t like getting their picture taken because I spend so much time thinking about the intricacies of the power of photography. It reveals too much for comfort. Photographs turns your body into an expression rather than a familiar possession. The subtext of a moment can be amplified in the bend of an arm or the tilt of a head. Even if you try to calculate a picture and how you’ll be perceived in it, sometimes, in a good photograph, something will slip through. The power of photography amplifies the power that our bodies have to express themselves. It’s a nearly unhinging experience to see yourself reflected in a single still moment, just your body existing in the physical world. If you look too long, that is. Which I do. Which is important to me. I encourage everyone, particularly people who don’t like to have their picture taken, to think critically about why and experiment with it.

The Eb and Flow of Personal Space

As a frequent patron of the MTA I have been on my fair share of crowded buses.Yes, if you are a user of public transport your palms will now start sweating as I make you relive every time you’ve been on an extremely crowded bus.You will be familiar with the feeling of a stranger, varying in degrees of unsettling (if you think this is harsh you have not rode the Baltimore City Public Bus before), coughing hot moist mouth air down your neck from behind you, or mumbling into your ear, or having your crotch right at someones eye level for an unbroken 15 minutes, or, oh, God, accidentally touching the hand of some other person holding onto a metal bar for support. How awful.It becomes a consuming game trying to avoid any sort of contact with the people surrounding you as you’re all sloshed around a narrow moving vehicle. The whole sweaty crowd sways together and its absolutely nasty. I will spend my entire ride on the packed bus resenting the people crowding me and being offended that the person behind me is standing so close. I mean, nothing personal here, its just that you’re all bursting my personal space bubble and it is killing me. It is making my skin crawl. Im not even claustrophobic, strangers just aren’t supposed to touch strangers.

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Empowerment, Doing Sex Right and Terrible Doctors

When I think critically about why I decided to visit the doctors a few years ago, if I really am honest with myself, I realize I was seeking sympathy more then a cure. That’s not to say I wasn’t looking for a solution. I just wanted someone to reassure me that I would be okay and tell me there was some sort of several-step program that could “fix” my body effortlessly. This was not the case (could you guess?).

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