“To suffer is one thing; another thing is living with the photographed images of suffering, which does not necessarily strengthen conscience and the ability to be compassionate. It can also corrupt them. Once one has seen such images, one has started down the road of seeing more - and more. Images transfix. Images anesthetize.” ― Susan Sontag, On Photography
Throughout my study of art history, I always come back to photography. To some in the art history field, it is still not considered of artistic merit or fine art. I would rather not bother with these threads of narrow thought. Though, I do think of how we face a tsunami of images everyday. What images matter and why? We are all photographers now, with one of the most advanced cameras (the iPhone) in each of our pockets. They are remarkable machines. Images seem more disposable than ever. I long for the days of the disposable camera sitting atop a wedding table at the reception. What a novel idea, to go get your own personal camera in an advertised wrapped box developed at Walgreens. Much like most of the history of photography, it is a layered story of rapid innovation and artistic adaptation. I think this is what draws me to Toyo Miyatake’s image of The Boys Behind Barbed-wire. After being one of over 120,000 Japanese Americans incarcerated during World War II in March 1942, Toyo snuck film into the camp and made his own camera from found wood. Camp Manzanar, where the photographer was sent, is located in between the tail end of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range and the Death Valley desert.
This photograph of three young boys could not have been taken by the more famous Dorthea Lange or Ansel Adams, both who covered the internment of Japanese Americans. Photography of watchtowers and barbed wire were explicitly forbidden by the War Relocation Authority. Toyo was living on the inside. He was interested in photography from an early age and even befriended a young Edward Weston in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles prior to being interned. While in the camp, after photographing in secrecy, he eventually gained permission to document daily life for the government. This image was most likely taken in 1944, as regulations were being relaxed.
The watch tower and barbed wire recall for me scenes of the great 1963 film classic, The Great Escape, but without the handsome Steve McQueen, I do not think there is even the slightest chance of escape. The watchtower signals a close eye, an ever-present threat to the boy’s personhood. This is a beautiful photograph, perfect framing of the three figures, the dominance of the watchtower, and the reality of the wasteland of desert brush in the foreground. I can’t help but notice the hands on the barbed wire, reaching for the outside. Our eyes gravitate to the boy in the middle wearing flannel, maybe 8 or 9 years old. We can see his eyes clearly, gazing beyond. What are they looking at? Our eyes also track the barbed wire fencing racing towards the mountain range. There is nowhere for us or them to go. Trapped. What information does Miyatake’s image convey to us? Does this image still resonate today?
We have recently witnessed increased hate crimes and violence against Asian Americans in various US cities. This is not new discrimination against the AAPI communities. This is not new hate. Manzanar is now a National Historic site and maintained by the United Sates Department of Interior. This is our shared American history and it is about time that we face our own indifference to societal change towards a more inclusive national identity. I recommend reading Susan Sontag’s On Photography, where she writes about our moral responsibilities as viewers, as photographers, and what might we do with the lasting archive of photographs, fine art or otherwise. Her thoughts are not limited to our lack of emotional capacity, she argues that we must have a deeper ownership on all accounts. I have maintained throughout my study of photographs, that through the power of digital dissemination of imagery, an image can actually trigger us. These photographs can open us up to an experience different than our own and possibly cultivate a deeper empathy for the subjects and ourselves.
Learn More:Toyo Miyatake: Capturing the Stories of Japanese Americans in Los Angeles
On Photography by Susan Sontag
Manzanar | National Park Service