Week One: A Very Brief Introduction to Photography
Saturday, January 5
It’s 2:30 in the afternoon. The gates of the gallery open. Twelve beautiful girls rush in, all with smiles on their faces. They are obviously excited and eager to participate in my workshop, and their body language tells me many things. It is as if they are escaping their world, and are happy to enter mine, if for only for a few hours.
I have dozens of photography books scattered on the table: National Geographic, World Press Photo, among others. The girls immediately start opening them. Soon they are asking me about things they have never seen before: these photos become windows to the outside world for them. Their curiosity overwhelms them: they laugh at odd photographs, and giggle at intimate ones, but they never stop looking and reading through the books.
Two girls were not able to attend the session today. One is 9-year-old Kim-Kim. She’d had to take care of her younger brother and do household chores. The girls say that although she could not make it today, she really does want to be part of the group. The other one is 14-year-old Maryanne Mae, or as the girls call her, Bhing- Bhing. The leader of the pack, she is the one whom all the girls trust the most. They insist that I should keep her in the workshop, even if she has absences. They tell me that on some days, she needs to work till three in the morning in a commercial center. Nevertheless, they promise me she will be here next week.
It is obvious that these girls are a strong, unified barkada (clique in pilipino). When push comes to shove, they will defend each other even from abusive family members, and help each other when needed. Although, when it comes down to their own survival – getting food and clothing and even flip- flops – it is still every girl for herself. Competition intensifies, and sometimes arguments ensue.
This is a cultural belief that is prevalent in communities like theirs. Just like many crabs in a bucket, they are trying to escape, but the walls around them are high, and they will push anything or anyone down, if only to be the first one on top. Many of their actions mimic those of their parents, or their elders. They become aggressive and competitive when I start to talk about the distribution of certain items among them (cameras and film rolls).
Still, they accept many of the things that life has handed to them. They obey their elders without question, and try not to answer back as much as possible, even when they are already being punched or slapped around. They tell me that sometimes they run to each other’s houses to seek refuge from such chaos.
Throughout the day, they share these little stories about themselves, and express their various expectations of what they think they will learn in this workshop. After almost four hours of chatting with them as a group, the afternoon snacks come in, and they all sit with me in the garden and show me their favorite pictures from the books.
When it starts to get dark, they help me pack the books away. I tell them that I will see them tomorrow for another workshop session.
For the next meeting, I ask them to bring old photos of their family and friends, of happy days or anything that they’ve experienced which has been captured on camera.
Sunday, January 6
It’s Sunday, the second day of our workshop. Only three of the girls were able to do their homework, namely, bring old photos from their homes.
“Mayroon ba kayong picture or photo ng kahit na ano sa bahay?”
“Wala,” all of them (save the three girls who brought photographs) reply, “kung yung mga katulad ng nakita namin na mga picture sa mga libro n’yo, wala ho.”
“Eh, sino na sa inyo ang nakakuha na ng litrato?”
Only two girls raise their hands.
They then explain that the only photos they have of themselves are their school IDs. These IDs are literally all they have to show for as visual proof of their existence.
One by one, I ask them what photographs mean to them. The three girls who’d brought their own pictures confess that they have no memory of them: perhaps these were taken when they were much younger. One is a shot of them as a group, walking down Loring Street, all looking very happy; another is a photo of one of the girls with her family during their trip to the Manila City Zoo; and so on.
“Ano ang pakiramdam ninyo tungkol sa lahat na ito?,” I ask the rest of them.
Amythel is the eldest girl in the group. She is very serious compared to most of them, she really takes part in the conversations, and is able to ask me very precise questions.
She tells me that without photographs she feels like she has to rely on her memory alone. Hence, she inevitably forgets many of the things that she has seen.
“Gusto kong matandaan ang mga nangyayari sa akin, para mabigyan ko ng katuturan ang buhay ko, at malaman ko ang tunay na kahulugan ko bilang isang tao.“
The other girls giggle at her answer, but I know how much courage it took for her to share that insight with us. More of them answer my questions about images and memory. They talk about media and movie stars. One girl who loves to sing and dance proudly said that she had the poster of the entire cast of the popular teen movie High School Musical, another girl said that above her cot was a large picture of Jesus Christ’s Last Supper. Others kept images of the Virgin Mary and the Santo Niño.
“Ano ang halaga ng mga imahen na ito sa inyo?”
“Pagnakikita namin ang mga relihiyosong imahen na iyon, na-i-inspire kami, at mas nagpapasalamat kami para sa mga binibigay na biyaya ng Diyos sa amin, sa araw-araw,” they reply.
This is how they begin to consciously understand the power of images, and how they are deeply influenced by them on a daily basis.
Afterwards, I ask each girl to shoot pictures in the garden in front of the gallery using my digital camera. After each of them finish taking their pictures, I explain to them the most basic aspects of the technical side of this craft using the photographs they had just taken as examples.
I teach them how to zoom into an object/subject, and to change angles. I also told them not to be afraid to look at their subjects differently, to find a more interesting way of seeing things that would make them look and feel extraordinary.
Text by Romina A. Diaz and Ginny Mata.
Images by Romina A. Diaz.
