Exercise 4.2: The British Landscape During World War II

John Taylor’s essay Landscape for Everyone discusses the landscape of England during World war II, beginning by pointing out that ‘landscape was a route to levels of emotion which were acceptably patriotic without being too nationalistic (in contrast to the warmongering fascists).’

He goes on to discuss the associations English landscape has always had to the past; and how historically there was a fear of creeping industrialisation destroying the countryside, which was superseded by a fear of its destruction by invasion by enemy troops. He describes how patriotic propaganda tapped into a national nostalgia, suggesting that the English countryside contained the strength to inspire ‘triumph’ over Nazi Germany.

In order to deter strangers, road signs were removed and hotel signs taken down where they showed a town name or distance. As Taylor reports ‘Fields and open spaces were obstructed by concrete blocks, stones and wire to prevent enemy planes from landing’. Unnecessary travel stopped, and the rural idyll became a memory.

The media offered strange juxtapositions in its depiction of the countryside: while picturesque pictures were no longer usable for their own sake, it was acceptable to use a scenic image if evacuated children were included in the foreground, for instance; a reminder to readers of what they were striving to save. Taylor states that the ‘Ministry of Information and the press promoted the idea that the diverse but beautiful landscape of England belonged to the whole people, encouraging them to see it as their own and so worth defending’. Readers were encouraged to cast aside class differences and stand together to defend the pastoral idyll.

The concept of the countryside as a call to battle seems strange today, especially at the time of writing when the country should be pulling together to support each other during the COVID-19 pandemic, yet social media gives different opinions a voice and so many seem determined to follow their own path no matter what the cost to others. The idea of pulling together for the countryside also seems strange when considering how many people lived in poverty during the 1940s and the examples in the article act as if such difficulties do not exist. However, I think there is still a great British aversion to ‘eyesores’ where the countryside is concerned, be it wind turbines or, in Plymouth, a new Antony Gormley sculpture, where people seem to think the countryside should still look twee and be unencumbered by modern signs of progress.

Exercise 2.2: Explore a Road

I take a daily walk during my lunch break so for this exercise I decided to record what I notice when taking this familiar path.  The process was not pre-mediated so the photographs are of random objects and scenes that caught my eye.

Looking over the result, I think the common themes that thread through these images are humankind’s impact on nature and pattern and colour.

For the second part of this exercise I watched the film Mango Dreams.  The film follows a Hindu doctor, Amit Singh, as he is diagnosed with dementia and takes a road trip with a Muslim rickshaw driver, Salim, to revisit the locations of the major milestones in his life before he forgets the memories forever.

At the beginning of the film we see Dr. Singh as a young child walking down a path in a sepia tinted clip interspersed with a modern day adult Singh running down a path; the path is used as the connection between the two scenes, acting as a metaphor for the passing of time.  Shortly after we see Singh and his friend watching a television history documentary on the partition of India; scenes of thousands of refugees walking and travelling uses the road to signify mass migration and displacement.

After his dementia diagnosis, Dr. Sing’s son arrives from America, wanting to move him into a nursing home until he can be moved to America.  The two men fight and Dr. Singh walks out.  We see him walking down dusty streets; the road has now come to signify his escape and freedom.

Dr. Singh meets rickshaw driver Salim who reveals the doctor saved his son’s life some years ago and would not accept any payment and offers to take him anywhere he wants to go.  Dr. Sing answers ‘home’; he wants to return to his childhood home.

The two embark on their journey, and the road becomes a metaphor for the development of their relationship.  There are many arguments between the two and we learn that Salim hates Hindus because his wife had been raped and burned to death by Hindu rioters in Gujarat.  Dr. Singh talks of his family who were murdered by Muslims, and of the personal responsibility he feels for the death of his brother.  We see the road develop from dusty track to tarmac roads to multi-lane highway as the pair visit sites such as Dr. Singh’s college where he studied to become a doctor and the orphanage where he met his future wife.  The locations are in reverse chronological order in Dr. Singh’s lifetime; the road follows a timeline backwards through his life.

Eventually, Dr. Singh’s son catches up with him and after some discussion and argument, the two embark on the final leg of the journey on foot, with Salim in his rickshaw following behind.  The road has become a simple dirt track again as the trio journey to Dr. Singh’s birthplace and the location of his family’s murders.

The road performs several aids to the storyline in this film; as well as the literal interpretation of the journey, we see it as a link to time.  At the same time as Dr. Singh is moving forward on his journey, he is moving backwards to relive his past.  We also see scenes of mass displacement via the images of refugees travelling along roads and this links to Dr. Singh’s physical and mental displacement from his childhood and his quest to reconnect with his memories.  The road also follows the thread of the relationship between Dr. Singh and Salim as they slowly cast aside their preconceptions of different religions and become close friends over the course of the long journey.

Exercise 1.4: What is a Photographer?

Marius De Zayas’ essay Photography and Artistic-Photography was first published in Camera Work no. 41 in 1913.

De Zayas opens with the statement ‘Photography is not Art, but photographs can be made to be Art.’  He goes on to explain that if a photograph is taken without any forward thought to the final image, if the photograph is merely recording facts, then that is ‘Photography’.  However, if there is an attempt to attain an emotional, expressive, personal depiction then that is ‘Artistic-Photography’.  Both can co-exist without detriment to the other.

I agree with De Zayas’ ideas, and in fact the desire to create ‘Artistic-Photography’ (though I was not aware of the term at the time) was my motivation for embarking upon my first OCA course.  I was making pictures which I was aware were simply record shots, albeit ones I was happy with, and felt that in order to advance my practice I needed to find a way to bring a sense of personal expression into my work.  Today, I practise both types of photography; I still want Photography for the online album and reminders of family events and excursions, but I also make Artistic-Photography for my own creative purposes.  I consider both to be separate and able to co-exist with each other within my practice, in agreement with De Zayas’ opinion.

References

De Zayas, M. (1913). ‘Photography and Artistic-Photography’ In: Camera Work 1913, 41.