The Ethical Representation of Difference in Photojournalism Today and Yesterday
By Andrew Ladner and Andrew Biliter
Since Riis and the early days of photojournalism, there have been many debates over the ethical responsibilities of the photojournalist. Certain criteria and standards have evolved. In many ways, Riis’s brand of photojournalism has sympathy for, but lacks sensitivity toward his subject matter. He also “cheated” in many ways, like in his photo of young boys obviously feigning sleep on a sewer grate. It is not a candid photo, so are they there because he told them to show him where they sleep or because Riis himself posed them there?
Still, Riis’s images were powerful and meaningful to viewers at the time and remain so today. His contribution to the field of photojournalism can’t be diminished, and it is striking the way the spirit of his work is echoed in a present day exhibition of photographs at Carleton’s McKinley Gould Library sponsored by the Greater Minnesota Housing Fund (GMHF). Like Riis, the six photographers involved in the exhibit are photographing with a social aim in mind and a desire to educate the public. They are different from Riis in that they also work the line between art and photojournalism in using the camera to depict not only the poverty, but the humanity and dignity of their subjects.
A Danish immigrant, Riis was an inhabitant of the tenements before he was a crusader for social justice. He first found work as a police photographer, venturing into the slums already familiar to him in order to record images. His background as a product of the slums and a witness to its horrors provoked Riis to offer a devastating new perspective of tenement life to the upper echelons of New York society.
While looking through the lens of his camera at the people of the tenements, he also saw the people he believed responsible for the misery of his subjects: the members of the upper half. Riis tells a simplistic yet accurate story at the outset of his book, boldly asserting that “the half that was on top cared little for the struggles, and less for the fate of those who were underneath, so long as it was able to hold them there and keep its own seat.” According to the story, “there came a time when the discomfort and crowding below was so great, and the consequent upheavals so violent, that it was no longer an easy thing to do, and then the upper half fell to inquiring what was the matter.”
Although over a century has passed since Riis helped pioneer the field of journalism, the photos on the walls outside the reading room tell a similar story of poverty and inadequate housing. “Portraits of Home: Families in Search of Shelter in Greater Minnesota” is posted on the busiest floor of the library. The photos tell the story of Minnesotan families from all regions of the state struggling to find housing that is both affordable and livable. These are a part of a larger collection that is displayed in other galleries and institutions around the state. Julie Delliquanti, the exhibit’s coordinator, says that “the purpose of the exhibition is to reveal the impact of the affordable housing crisis in a way that resonates with the public. GMHF seeks to engage policymakers, local leaders, concerned citizens, urban planners, and social activists in developing strategies and resources to address the housing challenges of our state.” Ms. Delliquanti further states that “historically, social art has proven to create awareness and inspire activism in ways that other approaches have not.”
The Carleton exhibit features 19 photos of people living in challenging economic situations. We see mold-infested and poorly heated apartments, a one-room basement that holds a family of nine, mobile homes without enough rooms and faulty plumbing, and a roach-infested Duluth hotel that represents the best housing option for many of its residents. One family lives in a trailer waiting for their father to return from service in Iraq, another man lives alone in a hotel where he nursed his partner who died of AIDS. We see a Hispanic immigrant family trying to find steady work and a home, and a recently released female convict who can’t leave her tiny hotel room because she suffers from agoraphobia and depression.
For the most part, the photographers chose intimate prints that highlight the dignity and humanity of their subjects. Their poverty is readily apparent, but we still see some smiling faces and even children laughing and jumping on a bed. The images are of dignified and proud people living in the worst of circumstances – the deliberate and effective result of the photographer’s discerning eye for a thought-provoking image.
But when we talk about a photographer having an “eye,” we should take into account what exactly that means, and here is where Jacob Riis comes into play once again. When a photographer or photojournalist comes upon a scene of desperate poverty that would be disturbing to a middle class American, it isn’t as simple as pointing and shooting. Everything in a photo – from the point of view to choices about cropping and coloring of the print – make a subjective statement about the person or situation depicted. Riis didn’t think of himself as a photojournalist, partially because he downplayed the importance of his photographs and partially because photojournalism as we know it didn’t yet exist when he was taking pictures of New York slums. They were filled with technical defects and often looked spontaneous because he knew he was photographing quickly without necessarily getting permission from his subjects. Like all photojournalists, Riis wanted to capture truth, but by taking pictures quickly and trying to capture a candid shot before the subject could control how he or she appeared before the lens, Riis was making artistic choices that change how the viewer perceives the subject.
How do the photographers in the “Portraits of Home” exhibit make their choices? Although the purpose of the GMHF in commissioning photographers to take these photos was to raise awareness about the lack of affordable housing in the state, the photographers also brought their own purposes to the project. Carlos Gonzalez, an award-winning staff photographer from the Star Tribune, was one of the photographers who undertook the GMHF’s mission, but not without adding a bit of his own perspective as a photojournalist to the purpose of the project. “The goal that “Portraits of Home” wanted was one thing, but for me was a different thing…I went out and photographed people and hoped to retain a sense of the greater purpose of the project, but I don’t go into a project thinking, ‘this is exactly what you should take out of it.’”
Stormi Greener, another contributor to the project and also a photographer for the Star Tribune and two-time Pulitzer Prize finalist, strikes a similar note, saying that “what a person [viewer] perceives from the outside is not always what the photographer has undertaken.” Despite this, both photographers, while trying to remain as objective as possible, must make little decisions to guide the viewer toward a perception somewhat similar to their own.
Carlos Gonzalez and another photographer, Cathy ten Broeke, took black and white photos without a high level of contrast. This tonal scheme subtly conveys to the viewer the drabness of a life spent always making the ends meet, of a life in which the finer things are rarely attainable and even basic commodities are occasionally unavailable. Some of the color prints in the exhibit have been color balanced to look a little bit blue to highlight the sense of despair in the viewer.
Because vertical and horizontal lines would give the viewer the sense of stability and structure that comfortable home provides, several of the photographers rely on dramatic angles or tilted camera views in their photos to highlight the disorder and tension that an unstable financial or housing situation creates.
Ten Broeke’s photo of Rich, the resident of a Duluth, Minnesota hotel, reveals a man whose life is cluttered and directionless after the death of his partner. Our point of view puts us close to the wall in his room, granting us a sense a suffocating space made small not so much because of the size of the room, but because of overall clutter. The oval mirror in which the Rich regards himself serves to give us a sense of even more clutter behind him, rather than expanding the sense of space, which is what a mirror traditionally does in photography. In other photos, subjects are backlit by sun streaming through dirty windows. The effect here, as in the photo of an agoraphobic woman in the same Duluth hotel, is to give a sense that for many of these subjects, there is currently no escape from their financial situation. The rectangle of white light feels almost blinding as it forces us to focus on these depressing interiors.
Considered together, the photographers featured in “Portraits of Home” serve the socio-political aim of the Minnesota Housing Fund, but they have also created artful images that incorporate deft formalistic choices. These details help evoke our empathy and respect for the subjects and convey a little of what life is like for them. They often reveal a psychological depth that Riis’s early snapshots do not. Thus, this exhibition is more than a window on the housing crisis: it is a window on the same ethical concerns that faced Jacob Riis more than a century ago in the tenements of New York City. Times have changed dramatically since Riis, but the reality of ethically representing difference of all kinds – economic and ethnic included – is still there. The potential for exploiting the subjects of a photograph in furthering a cause is a very real problem in photojournalism, as well as the potential for making subjects seem exotic and outside the experience of the viewer. Contributor Ben Garvin, a staff photographer for the Pioneer Press whose work has been published nationally in magazines like TIME and Newsweek as well as in the New York Times and Washington Post, remarked that “one has to be careful not to create journalism, photography or otherwise, that makes readers feel like they’re looking at something through glass. I think that the best journalism brings the viewers into the homes and lives of the people we’re covering. And does it with the utmost respect for their humanity.”
“Always when you photograph people in unfortunate situations you must do your best to document them in a dignified way,” according to Carlos Gonzalez. Especially in the context of an exhibition like “Portraits of Home” that represents people from a variety of ethnic backgrounds whose only link is poverty, the potential for the viewer to give the photo a meaning that is not intended, or to dismiss the photo completely, is great.
The common response of the photographers involved in this exhibit was to ignore difference and concentrate on treating the people in their photos with dignity and humanity. As Stormi Greener comments, “what the photographer comes upon and what she/he photographs normally has nothing to do with race or creed.” Carlos Gonzalez says his chief aim in taking photos is “capturing moments…the power of photography is when you see an image and you get something out of it, especially some kind of emotion, it can bring you into that moment in time to show the moment to people who aren’t there.” In regards to ethnicity, the photographers who contributed to “Portraits of Home” concentrated more simply on the human connection; as Ben Garvin said, “I tried not to think about it too much.” Their concentration on intimate moments, however, does not mean that difference was not an issue in approaching a subject; “I suppose I did try to represent different ethnicities in my work,” said Garvin. “There is a fine line between ignoring ethnicity, being aware of it, or over-reaching out of fear. That said, as a photographer my number one concern was making meaningful, beautiful images.”
As Riis writes in his book, “The one thing you shall vainly ask for in the chief city of America is a distinctively American community.” He also wrote that he knew of “but one bridge that will carry us over safe, a bridge founded upon justice and built of human hearts.” “Portraits of Home” reflects these statements, as well as the ethical framework they suggest. As Ben Garvin concluded, “Photographs that misrepresent the truth or that somehow obscure reality are what I try to be aware of, and that measure is purely personal. Only I was there taking the photographs, and only I know if they’re honest. As journalists, I think we have an obligation to get as close to people – and reality – as possible, so that when we report and photograph, our work tells accurate, honest stories.” 
Andrew Ladner is a junior English and history major from Deephaven, Minnesota. Andrew Biliter is a senior Russian major from Evanston, Illinois.