As a photographer I love the picturesque. Women half wrapped in transparent silky floaty scarves. Men wearing sarongs or longyi, sadhus with long dreadlocks and virulent red swipes across their foreheads.
As a traveller, I know that what's picturesque isn't always authentic, and it isn't always good. At one mosque the imam looked absolutely the picture - till he took off his robes and joined the crowd in his jeans and check shirt. One woman I met looked the picture of the happy girl in colourful traditional dress and multiple scarves, till in between the lines of her bright chatter I realised her husband was having an affair with another woman and she wanted my advice.
Tourists in Laos pay plenty to meet the Hmong, with their distinctive black and red traditional dress. I met loads of Hmong in Luang Prabang, without going out of my way; they were youngsters who had come to the nearest big town to get an education. While they were dressed just like any other local, in jeans and t-shirts, their self-identification was still absolutely Hmong, and they chatted to me about the differences between 'big town life' and 'life in the village'. ('Big town' is relative: Luang Prabang has a population of 56,000 all told.)
So I was amused to read of the tricks being played to present the "noble hunter gatherer" to tourists (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/dec/02/ditch-harmful-myth-noble-hunter-gatherer), For me, one of the most charming elements of travelling life is the mix of ancient and modern - the gorgeous incongruity when right after dusk prayers in the desert, rock music suddenly fills the air and a Bedouin fumbles in the pockets of his dishdasha to grab his mobile phone. Or the way a whole souk of Indian electronics traders helped me find the SD card I needed for my camera, which for some reason wasn't a common one in India though it was easy to find elsewhere.
I look at women in India and I see how sisters now are fighting for their place in the world - from "Auntie Cat" who looks after all her colony's animals (just as Jain temples often look after sick birds) to feminist journalists and film makers, and women studying at universities and management schools. How glad I am that they are looking to the future, not back to a picturesque past in which they were firmly put in their place.
Yes, maybe "Auntie Cat" in her dress and Manolos doesn't look at cute as she would in a sari and sandals (though actually, I think she does). Maybe a photographer's lens is dying for the students in jeans and t-shirts to change into salwar kameez and dupatta. But they have their lives to live, and that's their authenticity. And actually, I'm glad that when I've made their acquaintance, I've been allowed to see a little of their real lives, which are often inspiring and never dull.
People everywhere are struggling to find their place in a world that keeps evolving - sometimes with tragedy and sometimes with joy, like the Burmese Rasta I met at Yangon Central Station or the ex-police inspector whose clipped English and spit-and-polish attitude persisted under his newly adopted sadhu's robes and dreadlocks.
Putting these people firmly back in a box marked "PAST" is actually not nearly as much fun as seeing how modernity and ancient tradition get along with each other once they've been introduced.
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After writing this, I discovered a book review which puts many of my feelings about authenticity in relation to travel photography and writing into perspective. How to cover the life of a red light district without being salacious? or the acts of an abusive 'god-man'? By being authentic - true to and respectful of the individuals concerned. And by putting real work into the job - getting to know people, which is not a quick fix but in same cases can take a decade or more.
As a traveller, I know that what's picturesque isn't always authentic, and it isn't always good. At one mosque the imam looked absolutely the picture - till he took off his robes and joined the crowd in his jeans and check shirt. One woman I met looked the picture of the happy girl in colourful traditional dress and multiple scarves, till in between the lines of her bright chatter I realised her husband was having an affair with another woman and she wanted my advice.
Tourists in Laos pay plenty to meet the Hmong, with their distinctive black and red traditional dress. I met loads of Hmong in Luang Prabang, without going out of my way; they were youngsters who had come to the nearest big town to get an education. While they were dressed just like any other local, in jeans and t-shirts, their self-identification was still absolutely Hmong, and they chatted to me about the differences between 'big town life' and 'life in the village'. ('Big town' is relative: Luang Prabang has a population of 56,000 all told.)
So I was amused to read of the tricks being played to present the "noble hunter gatherer" to tourists (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/dec/02/ditch-harmful-myth-noble-hunter-gatherer), For me, one of the most charming elements of travelling life is the mix of ancient and modern - the gorgeous incongruity when right after dusk prayers in the desert, rock music suddenly fills the air and a Bedouin fumbles in the pockets of his dishdasha to grab his mobile phone. Or the way a whole souk of Indian electronics traders helped me find the SD card I needed for my camera, which for some reason wasn't a common one in India though it was easy to find elsewhere.
I look at women in India and I see how sisters now are fighting for their place in the world - from "Auntie Cat" who looks after all her colony's animals (just as Jain temples often look after sick birds) to feminist journalists and film makers, and women studying at universities and management schools. How glad I am that they are looking to the future, not back to a picturesque past in which they were firmly put in their place.
Yes, maybe "Auntie Cat" in her dress and Manolos doesn't look at cute as she would in a sari and sandals (though actually, I think she does). Maybe a photographer's lens is dying for the students in jeans and t-shirts to change into salwar kameez and dupatta. But they have their lives to live, and that's their authenticity. And actually, I'm glad that when I've made their acquaintance, I've been allowed to see a little of their real lives, which are often inspiring and never dull.
People everywhere are struggling to find their place in a world that keeps evolving - sometimes with tragedy and sometimes with joy, like the Burmese Rasta I met at Yangon Central Station or the ex-police inspector whose clipped English and spit-and-polish attitude persisted under his newly adopted sadhu's robes and dreadlocks.
Putting these people firmly back in a box marked "PAST" is actually not nearly as much fun as seeing how modernity and ancient tradition get along with each other once they've been introduced.
----------
After writing this, I discovered a book review which puts many of my feelings about authenticity in relation to travel photography and writing into perspective. How to cover the life of a red light district without being salacious? or the acts of an abusive 'god-man'? By being authentic - true to and respectful of the individuals concerned. And by putting real work into the job - getting to know people, which is not a quick fix but in same cases can take a decade or more.
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