I’m Glenna Gordon, an American photographer and journalist, presently commuting between West Africa and Brooklyn. Previously, I lived in Liberia. And before that, I lived in Uganda. I’ve traveled and worked in over a dozen countries in Africa.
I found the scarlett lion on the roof of a friend’s house in Kampala back in 2006 when I went through a crate of discarded items he and a few other artists had gathered. On that day, I was looking for something and I found the lion: a discarded kid’s toy made in China on the cheap, that somehow found it’s way to East Africa. Something about the hollowed out, paint chipped figurine appealed to my understanding of this place: I’d never seen a real lion, after all.
Thanks to Aaron Leaf, I spent just over four glorious moments this morning watching a video of Jean-Bédel Bokassa‘s coronation. Bokassa, who was the head of the Central African Republic from 1966-1979. The rich visual culture of this video deserves noting — the over the top signs of European monarchy translated to a central African stage, the young prince in his white gloves (don’t miss his epic yawn around the three minute mark), and the complete lack of anything wider context that might give you a glimpse of Bangui.
And, by far best line in the Wikipedia entry on him: “Although Bokassa was formally crowned in December 1977, his imperial title did not achieve worldwide diplomatic recognition.”
Here are a couple of epic screenshots in case you don’t have time to watch the whole video.
In a country that produces music like Baloji’s and and protests like those pictured above by Finbarr O’Reilly (more here), it is unsurprising the issues of representation are contentious.
Yesterday, Congolese voters went to polls amid violence and confusion. For more on the elections, read Congo Siasa or Texas in Africa. The upshot of the election is as of yet unclear, but while Congo is in the news (again) I wanted to take this opportunity to write about Richard Mosse’s continued series of infrared images of DRC.
I first wrote about Mosse’s work last year with reluctant praise. I liked the images, but feared they were a bit gimmicky. However, Mosse’s newest set puts these concerns to rest — he’s committed to exploring a complicated region through a medium fraught with its own limitations.
Susan Sontag pointed out that photojournalists have long avoided the ethic/aesthetic dilemma by ‘flying low artistically speaking’, using grainy black and white film to appear sober and objective while portraying human suffering. I feel that it’s equally valid to explore the camera’s full aesthetic potential. Naturalism is no greater claim to veracity than other strategies.
I was searching for a new form, or generic hybrid, that would go a step further. While making the work, I was acutely aware of the fact that infrared light is invisible, so I was literally photographing blind. The whole process seemed preposterous. I felt like the protagonist in Gogol’s Dead Souls, quantifying an absence using a meticulous scientific method while engaged in a picaresque trajectory through an impossible land…
At the end of the day, I feel that journalism’s premise is often not simply to inform, but also to affirm our world view. I take issue not with its informing role, but with this affirmation. I believe that it’s imperative to challenge our thinking, particularly in more volatile and loaded landscapes whose narratives are frequently calcified by mass media interests. My work is not intended as a criticism of journalism (which is tremendously important). Rather, it operates within the open field of contemporary art, where the emphasis is not on the answers, but on the questions – not on the facts, but on what they add up to.
While votes are added up, and news briefs and photo reportages accumulate on the internet, it’s good to have Mosse’s work as an additional viewpoint. Neither his work, nor the work of the journalists covering the elections, is as complete without the other.
Around 1 pm, word spread that shots had been fired at the CDC headquarters in Monrovia. When I arrived, CDC supporters eagerly escorted me upstairs into the room in the main building where a man, shot in the head, was clearly dead. They said others had died too, as many as four or five. Others were injured as well.The phone network went out, and it was hard to tell what was happening.
The strangest part was a stand off between the Liberian riot police and the Nigerian UNMIL unit. The jury is still out on what happened there. It seemed that many people were itching for a fight.
“Tonight, tonight there will be a massacre.” I heard it again and again. Let’s all hope it isn’t true.
I’m Glenna Gordon, an American photographer and journalist, presently commuting between West Africa and Brooklyn. Previously, I lived in Liberia. And before that, I lived in Uganda. I’ve traveled and worked in over a dozen countries in Africa.
