I follow a number of YouTube channels and people that are concerned with photography and, in particular, street photography – photography that is done typically with short focal length (say, 21-35mm) capturing slices of life in urban contexts. One good example of this is Matt Stuart’s work which is summarised in his book, Think Like a Street Photographer (2021), published by Sentanta Books. Nice short chapters focusing on one particular aspect, skill, or attitude to have doing this kind of photography.
Another photographer I follow is Roman Fox, a young British photographer who posts a mixture of YouTube videos highlighting cameras, technical skills, and travel advice. It’s an enjoyable down-to-earth channel, though I wish I could afford some of the kit he uses and to travel to some of his destinations. Somewhat unusually, Fox’s most recent YouTube video waxes a little more philosophically (or even theologically) about potential pitfalls of regret over photographic futures not realized. Fox stumbled across the following quote from Danish theologian, Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855), which got him thinking.
The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you’ll never have.
Søren Kierkegaard, Either/Or (1843)
While Fox does not go too deeply in the philosophical side of things (and not at all into the theological), he does reflect of the temptation of the photographer to be continually disappointed with the photographs taken because of the imagined photographs expected to be taken but which haven’t been. Helpful for reminding us to enjoy the process and experience of photography for what it is, not what didn’t eventuate in imagined futures. You can see his video at the link below:
Roman Fox – The Worst Photography Habit (14 April 2022)
Related to the use of photography in spiritual formation are developments in the use of photography for therapeutic purposes. These range from the notion that doing something you might enjoy and which occupies your attention might help you be less concerned with life’s problems through to more detailed programmes of therapeutic photography.
While flicking through the Tate Modern’s YouTube channel “Finding Photography” this title caught my eye. Certainly the idea of photography as therapy and spiritual discipline is on my mind all the time.
I came lately to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003) when I started watching it on DVD while preparing material for the Bible in Popular Culture course back in 2009-2010. Somehow, I missed its arrival on television here in the early 2000s, had no idea there was an original film back in 2002, and sort of knew there was a spin-off series called Angel (1999-2004). Watching it after the fact, and also as a middle-aged man, meant that some things that were part of the Zeitgeist of its original time bypassed me, it became just one of a number of similar supernatural shows rather than a trailblazer, and I probably wasn’t the target demographic. That said, I enjoyed it overall, have all the DVDs, and get some of the intertextual pop culture references to it that still turn up. I also spent a bit of time reading academic engagement with the series.
25 years on from it and Buffy and other shows, films, and comics from the mind of Joss Whedon (aka the Whedonverse) now sit awkwardly, and in many cases hypocritically, in the light of allegations about the creator and his attitudes and actions towards (particularly) women he worked with. Where that leaves Buffy, which was touted and engaged with as a serious and transformative watershed moment in feminism, as somewhat conflicted and complicated.
But now, 25 years ago this week since it first premiered in the US, a cultural reappraisal is happening as fans have increasingly found themselves confronted with certain questions about the show: does it still hold up as the important piece of groundbreaking, feminist television it was once heralded as, in the cold light of 2022? How do they square their ardent affection for the iconic cult series with its more problematic elements? And given the disturbing accusations made by the cast about its creator Joss Whedon and his allegedly “toxic” and “not appropriate” behaviour on set, to what extent should the art be separated from the artist – or not – in this case?
Hanna Flint, How tainted is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 25 years on? (2022)
Flint examines some of the impact the show had, some of the bits which haven’t transitioned well, some of the bits which despite its self-declared feminist agenda clearly undermine that claim, and what it might have to offer today. She concludes:
With all that to consider, has the show’s legacy been irreparably tainted? Whedon’s mission statement of delivering “the joy of female power” does not always seem to have manifested behind the scenes or in front of the camera. And yet, 25 years on, one cannot deny the importance of what Buffy the Vampire Slayer did, in centring several strong female characters within a populist genre format, thereby pushing the boundaries of what was expected from a female-led TV series. But, as with a lot of old shows, including its peers from the 90s, like Friends, it’s hardly a surprise, perhaps, that there are character and narrative elements that have aged badly. “There are some characters that you’re going to look at and go ‘why on earth are they behaving that way?’ but you have to remember that was 25 years ago, and if you can look at it as a period piece, you can still get a lot of modern day benefits from it,” says McKillop, who is rewatching the series with her own daughter. “She’s getting a lot out of it. Not necessarily the same things that I got out of it when I first watched it, but she’s definitely getting some good messages.”
Hanna Flint, How tainted is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 25 years on? (2022)
It’s an interesting article and well worth a read even if you’re not a Buffy fan, reminding us that sometimes elements of popular culture transcend their setting, sometimes they don’t, and sometimes popular culture becomes the property of the fans first and foremostly regardless of and in spite of the creator and their flaws.
There are many things I like about photography but among those things is a fascination with symmetry, perspective, and geometry. It’s probably why I tend to photograph things in an urban settings (Sallie McFague’s “second nature”), rather than in a more natural setting like landscapes, forest and bush, the back garden (“first nature”), or photographing people. There are more angles and converging lines – architecture comes with in-built geometry – and even clashing architectural styles can lead to interesting juxtapositions of geometries.
In the first post in this series (Photography and Spiritual Formation (1)) I mentioned Andrew Norton’s influence on my thinking about photography. Alongside Andrew, Eileen Crowley’s work on photography and religious life has also been significant, including shaping some of the ways I use digital technology in my teaching.
I first met Eileen at THEOCOM at Santa Clara University back in 2015 and again at subsequent meetings. In 2017, Eileen presented on media storytelling as ministry, as well as the Photovoice project. See the links below:
Her paper focused on mediated storytelling – in particular, mediated by digital technologies – as part of a cycle of grace supports human flourishing. This is part of her academic work which includes:
Crowley, Eileen D. ““Now I See”: On the Creation of Media Arts in Religious and Theological Studies.” ARTS: The Arts in Religious and Theological Studies 23, no. 1 (2011): 33-43.
““Using New Eyes”: Photography as a Spiritual Practice for Faith Formation and Worship.” Dialog 53, no. 1 (2014): 30-40. https://doi.org/10.1111/dial.12086
In her presentation and the paper, “Using New Eyes,” Eileen talked about using digital photography as with different groups of people to explore the world around us and as a tool for spiritual formation. In the post linked to below that talks about this, she says:
This mini-course is not a typical photography course. It’s an introduction to a process that — while you are doing photography — will encourage you to “see” differently, to “receive the light” by opening yourself up to the Spirit moving within you and all of creation, and to share what you discover with others in a small group process.
After hearing Eileen speak on this, and reading some of her writing, I designed an assessment module in my Theology and Media course that used digital photography. Students picked a particular topic – such as family, work, identity, exclusion, whakapapa, or another of their own choice, took photos using their everyday mobile phones that connected to that, curated a selection of around a dozen photos that narrated that topic, presented those, and included a theological exegesis of both the topic and the photos. I was really pleased with what the students presented, including the way that using photography made them more present in their own communities as they were looking for photographs and also in how they narrated their selection. Definitely doing this again at some point with students or others in the small group setting.
For me, I think the thing about photography is that it gives me a way of processing the world around me. I take photos, reflect on them, and then organise them in ways that speak to something those places including my and others’ experiences of those locations and times. More on that later.
Both religion and art require belief for them to work,” writes Daniel A. Siedell. For the Eucharist to fulfil its function, he says, the recipient needs to believe that the wine is the blood of Christ, the wafer his body; in a similar vein, the viewer of an artwork must believe that the paint smeared on the canvas means something. It takes faith to appreciate a photographed image: faith in the photographer, in her intent, in there being a meaning to what we see. Which of course brings us back to the similarity between the respective workings of faith and art. Having spent years with the study of the relationship of religion, spiritual experience and art—an elusive subject whose assessment is undergoing change—I hardly find this surprising. Nor should anyone do so in the age of postsecularism.
Reflecting on cameras today as a new (second-hand) camera came in the mail today. I’ve not been a regular photographer over the years, though I seem to have picked up some of my late father’s enthusiasm for it over the past few years, but I have owned a number of cameras over the years with different levels of attachment to them.
A few years back I had the privilege of inviting the late Andrew Norton to speak to my Theology and Media class on photography and spirituality. Andrew graciously obliged and brought in a number of canvases with prints on them as well as a selection of digital photos for us to view and engage with. He talked about the ongoing process of learning to photograph scenes – particularly landscapes and birds, the art of composition, and how photography served as a medium for exploring his life and faith. A number of things have continued with me from the hour or so that he spent with the class – the violence of the language we use to describe photography and of returning to the same place to take photographs over time.
Andrew’s photography, writing and other resources can be found at the web link below. It is well worth visiting for a look.
With respect to the language of violence, Andrew spoke of how it say uncomfortably with him of “taking” pictures, of “framing” places, “capturing” events, and “processing” images as if these places and events could be constrained and held disconnected and disempowered by the act of photography. Being aware of this allowed him to change his perspective on the act of photography, seeking to maintain the mana or dignity of what was being photographed and to engage in photography as a worshipful activity.
Andrew also spoke of returning to the same place to take photographs – at different times of day or across months of years – where the location was a constant but the light and climate varied and the land changed over time. One place he mentioned as special was a beach (Whangara in Tair?whiti, if I remember correctly), and he talked us through photos taken from the same spot over years, exploring the light, the people of that place, and geography. As I listened it reminded me of this short video documentary in the series commissioned by Te Papa exploring the land and its shaping of people in Aotearoa New Zealand.
Recently, over the past few years I’ve started taking more photographs. Partly because of the availability of decent cameras on my smart phones as well as using a couple of good smaller cameras suitable for street photography, but also because I have found it particularly helpful to explore my own world, life, and to reflect on that both emotionally and spiritually. The brief time Andrew spoke to the class (and the other times I heard about and saw his photography) have shaped that – even just thinking about how it might create different ways of looking at things. Over the new few (irregular) posts I’ll explore that some more.
Recently, I’ve been reading a number of comics and graphic novels that deal with aspects of mental health and wellness. This is part of the wider project I’m developing on Comics, Social Change, and the Public Good which I’m hoping to work on more next year. Below I’ve listed a number of comics and graphic novels that form part of that which pick up specifically with mental health matters such as anxiety, dementia, depression, and bipolar disorder. Most bring a strong autobiographical strand to the narratives, don’t shy away from uncomfortable elements, and which offer insights into living with these conditions.
Both RED (Retired. Extremely Dangerous), its sequel, RED 2, and The Losers play with the idea of government agents or soldiers who have been sold out by their country and now live on the margins of society. From those margins they are drawn back into action in order to clear their names and right wrongs that have been perpetrated against them and others. RED and RED 2 play with that idea with its tongue firmly stuck in its cheek, never taking itself too seriously, while The Losers has more of a gritty edge to it.
The original comic, RED, was created in 2003-2004 by writer Warren Ellis and artist Cully Hamner. It ran for three issues, out of the DC/Wildstorm imprint Homage Comics and told the story of retired CIA agent, Paul Moses. The comic’s story concerns the CIA’s attempt to “clean up” Moses and the things he has done by having him killed. It is dark, violent, and gritty and not comedic like the films.
The two films, on the other hand, are action-comedies that assemble an ensemble cast of retired agents who are trying to living out their retirements with varying degrees of success. When members of the team are killed by a corrupt CIA director hiding a political mess, they join forces to clear their names. The second movie continues their exploits when they clean up another mess connected to their past.
The Losers was a comic series created for DC/Vertigo by Andy Diggle and Jock that ran for 32 issues (2003-2006). (There was a previous comic series with the same name from DC with a similar premise back in the early 1970s, though that was set in World War 2, but that series is independent of the more recent one). The comic series focuses on a group of US soldiers who were abandoned by their handler during a mission that was part of the US’s “War on Terror.” The story concerns their quest to seek revenge and to set the record straight, even though the world thinks they are dead.
The film version of theThe Losers (2010) plays the comic book story in a straightforward way. I’d read the comic years before I saw the film and wondered why it was so familiar because I’d forgotten I’d read the comics. It is one of those comics which seemed to be easy to transfer to the cinematic screen with little being lost. The film does the whole ensemble cast thing like RED/RED 2 (with Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Zoe Saldana, Chris Evans, and Idris Elba) and there are no real surprises in the outcome of the story.
The Losers (2010) – Official Trailer
There was also a film called The Losers/Nam’s Angels produced in the Philippines in 1970 which also played with the idea of a team of outcasts operating behind enemy lines.
