Beyond the Frame 41/
The Art of Protest and Resistance. Plus competition results and a reader’s winning story.
Protest
A police officer and an anti-government protestor. Two sides, very different equipment.
Mass protests are often fuelled by high-adrenaline on both sides. I’ve seen how quickly tension can escalate into violence. Something I’ve been struck by — other than the occasional tear-gas canister — is how fine the line can be between individuals on either side. Arguably, it’s only family history and personal circumstances that dictate where a person finds themselves standing.
On opposite sides of the barricade, Kevlar-clad police officers and protesters wearing plastic bags and swimming goggles might well live in similar neighbourhoods. They might buy groceries from the same shop, eat at the same food stalls, have kids at the same school.
Sometimes the similarities become evident and overcome the perceived differences.
In a prolonged protest, police lines are routinely reinforced. Officers standing on the front line withdraw and take a break. On this occasion, two officers stepping away from the angry stand-off found themselves close to protestors. Perhaps because they were weary from the weight of the Kevlar and bullet-proof vests, instead of hurrying back to their own lines, they just sat down.
Without their helmets and no longer part of an ominous group, they appeared as two ordinary guys resting on the street. Some protesters reacted with initial surprise but, otherwise, it was business as usual.
In the heat and turmoil of a mass protest, these two men might be fervent opponents. Removed from the fray, they’re simply two men sitting side-by-side with only their “uniforms” to betray their allegiances.
Almost inevitably, before the officers returned to their own side, everybody posed for a selfie. Presumably, 30 minutes later the police officers were back at the front line, face-to-face with people angrily threatening to do them harm.
I have no profound conclusion to offer. Mass protest and civil resistance are a vital part of a functioning democracy. But the powerful people, the politicians, and the officials who are the source of protestors’ anger and frustration are rarely standing on the front line.
Oh, there you are, I did have a conclusion after all.
Resistance
Accomplished filmmaker Steve McQueen has curated an exhibition of protest photographs. Resistance opens at the Margate Turner Contemporary Gallery on Saturday, 22nd February, 2025.
Curated by McQueen and produced after a four-year research process, Resistance also includes images from the Battle of Cable Street when fascists clashed with Jewish and anti-fascist protesters in London’s East End in 1936 and the Battle of Lewisham, when the National Front was confronted in the multicultural area of south London in 1977.
Clarrie Wallis, who first worked with McQueen on Year 3 at Tate Britain, said Resistance is a continuation of the artist and director’s concentration on telling untold stories.
“It is also about us understanding our shared past,” said Wallis. “It’s interesting when you look at the Battle of Cable Street, and then you look at the Battle of Lewisham, you know, and then recent events. There is that sense of really wanting to shine a light on these stories that people aren’t aware of.” — from The Guardian Review
Perhaps the subtext here is relevant for today? Perhaps there’s something galvanising in seeing these grainy, black and white photographs of people uniting against racism and fascism? It might seem as if that battle must be fought by every generation. If so, perhaps that time is now.
Margate, in the English county of Kent, might not be within everybody’s reach but the exhibition is scheduled to travel around the UK and the accompanying book looks like it would be a fascinating read.
The exhibition will be accompanied by a major publication, Resistance, compiled by Steve McQueen and edited by Clarrie Wallis with Sarah Harrison. The book includes contributions from influential voices including Gary Younge, Steve McQueen, Paul Gilroy, and Baroness Chakrabarti.
Competition Winner 1
Several readers entered the competition to win their choice of my Ten Favourite Books of 2024.
The random generator selected David Mullen’s comment as the winner.
“Terrific list. Love the Magnum Contact Sheets, shows the thinking process behind the final image. Also good for my students to see that not EVERY capture is a gem!” — David Mullen
A copy of the Magnum Contact Sheets book is on the way to David, who made an excellent choice.
Competition Winner 2
The second competition prize, from Beyond the Frame 39/, is a new collection of Sergio Larrain’s photographs of Valparaiso.
This edition, the first English language version, has just been published. I received a copy earlier this week. Exploring the sordid yet romantic Chilean city through Larrain’s photographs has been enchanting and magical. From the introduction by Pablo Neruda to the final chapter, which contains facsimiles of Larrain’s handwritten notes and letters, Valparaiso is one of those rare and precious books that, to me at least, carries something above and beyond the printed content.
I remain beguiled by this photograph of a woman beside crates of Lemon Soda, made in 1963 (the photograph, probably the lemon soda too, but I cannot be certain).
I know exactly why I am so smitten with it. The image captures a moment where a profound connection exists between two people. The camera, almost always a physical barrier that delineates the space between Photographer and the Rest of the World, has vanished. The title for this photograph should be, “I see you”.
Such moments cannot be manufactured or predicted. Indeed, spontaneity is a pre-requisite for the moment to exist.
Attempting to describe such a connection in words is a fool’s errand for me. My attempts have all fallen short. If you asked me to describe the feeling of falling in love but using only Lego bricks whilst bouncing on a Pogo-Stick, the results would be clunky and impenetrable and I’d end up lying on the floor, bruised and sulky. This is why I chose to make a living with a camera, not a biro.
It’s best if you simply look at the photograph. If you are familiar with that feeling of having a fleeting but profound connection with a stranger, you will recognise it in her eyes, in her smile, in the slight tilt of her head, in her clasped fingers.
I would bet all the money in my pockets against all the money in your pockets that when Sergio Larrain made this portrait, his face was not obscured by a camera and he was smiling.
Don’t allow your camera to be a mask.
Here’s a quick but effective practical tip: if you are photographing strangers, pre-focus, frame the image, then move the camera away from your face, make eye-contact, smile, release the shutter.
You will see the difference between a “subject” posing for you and a person collaborating with you.
A reader’s story
Some readers generously shared words inspired by a photo in response to my recent invitation. Thank you.
Norman Sanders succeeds where I have failed. He unravels the threads connecting two people in the fraction of a second when a picture is made. With them, he weaves a story that will be familiar to many photographers and he does so with a wistful nostalgia that really resonates with me.
A copy of Sergio Larrain’s Valparaíso is heading in Norman’s direction. He is the deserving winner of the competition and has generously allowed me to share his winning story.
Boy on a Bike — Norman Sanders
I’m a white American. I lived, between 1976 and 1978, in a tiny settlement five hours north of Bamako, Mali, called Banamba. Banamba is the center of a slice of the Sahelian region, on the southern fringes of the Sahara desert. Drive north, and you soon wind up in the dunes; drive south — a long way south — and you eventually get to the tropical jungles of southern Mali and the Ivory Coast. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only white person living full-time in Banamba, so I was both very conspicuous, and universally known - I even had a Sarakolle name, given to me by the village elders with whom I worked. Bakary Ble (Red) Simpara.
Though I was freshly married, my new wife lived much of the time in Bamako, so I spent much of the time alone in Banamba. Except for the rare times when a balafon troupe would pass through, there was nothing in the way of entertainment, apart from walking into the village square and buying some delicious goat being barbecued over earthen ovens. My favorite pastime was wandering around Banamba in the hour before sunset, toting my Nikkormat and a “lens of the day” which dictated whether I was shooting panoramas, or more intimate photos with my favorite, an 85mm short telephoto.
On this afternoon in the rainy season of 1977, I was meandering around when an exuberant young fellow zoomed by on a bicycle, turning as he passed to make sure I had spied him. Indeed I had, and this picture is the result.
That picture, a slide, was processed, probably in Paris, and then sat for 48 years in plastic sleeves in garages and attics around the world. No longer a young man, I am now excavating the pictures of my youth, with the aid of a film scanner and a computer. Just yesterday, up jumped this photo, unremembered by me, from the decades of invisibility at the bottom of a box.
As always, for me every photograph, especially the ones I have made, carries not one, but two stories - one from each end of the lens. The boy, rightly proud of himself both for having access to the luxury of a bicycle, and of his prowess at zooming through the lanes of the village, is keen to make sure that the “toubab” (Bambara word for a white person) took notice of him. The wide grin we see as he daringly takes his eyes off the road and looks back, shows that he was no stranger to the sight of this toubab ranging through the village. (Children who were NOT familiar with seeing me usually had opposite reactions - the word terror comes to mind…). He was at play, loving the speed and freedom that two-wheeled conveyances always give - he was not working, because his bike would have been laden with stalks (for thatch) or wood (for cooking) if he had been. Women are emerging from another lane, and they ARE laden with some burden. Under normal circumstances there would have been no greenery on show, just the red dirt of the earth dessicated by months of dry heat - so the greenery tells the time of year, and confirms that everyone would be happy, for the relative coolness of the afternoon, and for a full belly from all the seasonal things to nibble on through the day. It was a fine afternoon, being spent in a fine way.
From the other side of the lens, the photographer’s story is split into a further two parts. One is the fond recollection not only of that day, and that moment when the photo was taken, but also a second part, savoring a time of life that is irretrievably “gone with the wind”. I’m unlikely to set foot in Africa again, but I cherish the recollections, and am enriched by the memories.
The magic of a still photograph is that you always wonder “what became of that person?” in the photo. But you also wonder “who made that image, and what became of him or her?” A frozen moment in the intersection of two lives…
Following a long and impressive career overseas, Norman travelled to all 254 counties in his home state of Texas on his wildly impressive collection of motorbikes. His remarkable blog documents the adventure and provides a very welcome distraction from the silly old news headlines.
Thank you, Norman. I hope you enjoy exploring Valparaíso in the company of Sergio Larrain.
Hafiz by Sabiha Çimen
Whilst we’re talking about winners, Juha Wikström, who is the winner of an earlier competition, has recommended the book Hafiz by Magnum photographer Sabiha Çimen.
Sabiha won the prestigious First PhotoBook prize at Paris Photo for Hafiz and I encourage you to look through the Magnum gallery of her work.
Lee
I hope you’re looking forward to a relaxing weekend. If you’re searching for something decent to watch, I see that the film Lee is now available to rent and buy on Amazon Prime.
Make some popcorn, put your feet up and enjoy Kate Winslet’s wholehearted portrayal of Lee Miller.
Until next time, go well.
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Thanks for the current newsletter, Gavin. Wish I could contribute financially. Being unemployed at the moment...but forever employed by the universe...I continue appreciating your amazing efforts to make the world a better, more informed place.
The other evening a friend took me to see the recently released film, The Brutalist. In Toronto we have $5 Tuesday screen showings, mostly to benefit university students in the area (and there are many students and many universities, as well). Starring the soulful, Academy Award-winning actor, Adrian Brody (The Pianist), The Brutalist is up for ten Academy Awards, including Best Actor. A heart-wrenching epic about life in post-World War Two Hungary and then Chicago, the film seethes with high drama. I haven't seen a movie on such an exalted level in years. I could go on and on about it, but don't want to say too much, lest I give the whole thing away. And the Academy Awards ceremony is just around the corner, in early March I believe. We'll see how this prestigious
event plays out.
A friend of mine, a Hollywood actress, gets to vote for who the winners are. In order to qualify for membership to the Academy, you have to have appeared in five major motion pictures. Time will tell. I will be surprised if The Brutalist and Adrian Brody don't walk away with at least some awards.
I have no doubt in your part of the world there are also intriguing film awards of note.
Keep those newsletters coming, Gavin. They do make my day!
An appreciative Joel in Toronto