What drew me to this class was a desire
to confidently identify, date, and handle 19th century photographs. I hadn’t
expected the myriad of issues associated with photographic description, or that
some of these problems would coincide so directly with issues I am starting to
be confronted with as an archivist at Perkins School for the Blind. Today I
find myself acutely aware of the complex issues that are inherent in
description, particularly of marginalized groups of people. I also see how
institutional mandates for accessibility at Perkins might provide opportunities
to helps fight stereotypical narratives though detailed description.
A
description of a photograph benefits greatly when its intended purpose and the
historical context that shaped it is included, but this can be especially
important when people are represented. When photographs include people with
disabilities, every effort should be made to prevent continued marginalization.
Providing meaning and historical context to a photograph can help the viewer
read the photograph critically when confronted with what Ville and Ravaud call
a recurrence of “images and plots” that help perpetuate familiar stereotypes.[1] In a paper written to
address the use of archival photographs as historical evidence, I found a compelling example of how important and how complicated
retaining context and meaning can be in a collection representing people with
disabilities.
Commenting
on a sample of photographs of children with intellectual disabilities from the
late 19th and early 20th century, Frank Simon observes that in the past the
disabled were often, “scientificised” resulting in a photographic image that
was used as “scientific proof of a phenomenon.”[2]
Simon also observes that photography of the face was often used in
pseudo-medical sciences as a way to distinguish normal from deviant facial
features.[3]Characterized by stark
environments and unnatural poses, photographs that seek to highlight
difference, seem fairly straightforward to identify as orchestrated
documentation of a time, place, and ideology.
As Devlieger observes, subjects appear to be “exposed to the camera,”
rather than engaged with it with it.[4]
In
the same collection by the same photographer–Belgian special education pioneer
Brother Ebergist Gustaaf De Deyne (1887-1943)–there are photographs that are
not so obviously orchestrated. These group shots involve a view of education
and daily life often indistinguishable from any other images of children at
school or play.[5] Patrick Devlieger observes
that photographs where the camera captures education and activities
uninterrupted by the camera’s presence, show the subjects, not as children with
disabilities, but as children.[6] The photographs showing
students participating in society reveals a social agenda that is being used to
advocate on behalf of these children and/or for publicity and fundraising. These photographs also suffer
from exploitative practices, especially in terms of consent. Ian
Grosvenor believes that consent which is not informed, or amounts to “staying
still for a photograph” is not consent.[7]
As children, I find this ethical dilemma especially uncomfortable, but as
Grosvenor points out, scholarly writing about the ethical use of such
photographs is sparse.[8] With the increase visibility
of digitized collections I feel this ethical dilemma is likely to become a
wider part of scholastic and public discourse.
De
Deyne, who took both photographs mentioned in the observations above, also took
group photographs of students which were being used as a teaching aid, but this
information was found in a manual disassociated from the photographs.[9] Students were tasked with
recognizing their fellow classmates who were photographed wearing matching
outfits as they stood in groups. The purpose of these photographs provides
essential context that shows the use of photography not just for medical or
scientific categorization, or social reform, but for teaching. From the
examples provided in the photographs of this collection, it is clear that the
purpose of the photographs tells a wider, more complicated story, when seen as
a whole. While this collection illustrates the need for context and visual
literacy in photographs it also illustrates the problems digitization causes
when images are disassociated from each other and their historical context.
After
reading about the collection of photographs being discussed above, it brought
to mind a particular collection at Perkins School for the Blind. “Typen von der
Blinden,” translated “Types of Blind,” is a collection of photographs mounted
on exhibit panels and bound into a large folio.[10]
It is part of a project carried out by Alexander Mell, Director of the Imperial
Royal Institute for the Education of the Blind in Vienna between 1878-1900. As
with the examples mentioned above, there are headshots documenting a physical
condition (figure 1 and 2) as
well as photographs of children participating in outdoor exercises that give no
indication of disability (figure
3). The images also show photographs of children with an older pupil in
matching outfits, images of their hands, and strength training for their hands
called “Hand Gymnastics.”
Seen
together, these photographs provide a complicated picture that includes aspects
of scientification and advocacy that functions at its best when viewed
together. They are also part of a larger Imperial Royal Institute for the
Education of the Blind Collection that consist of five digital collections related to this
school.[11] Unlike the De Deyne collection, there is not an extensive amount of information available to provide context.
Alexander Mell (1850-1931) who was the director of the school had a close
relationship with Perkins throughout his life. Mell’s library collection
inspired the research library that now exists at Perkins and duplicate copies
of books from Vienna were obtained for Perkins’ library. They serve as some of
the only examples of Mell’s collection, which was almost completely destroyed by the Nazis in World War II .[12]
This lack of information easily available is evident in a Google search for the
Imperial Royal Institute for the Education of the Blind, which brings up results, almost
exclusively, from Perkins.
Unlike
the Belgian samples there is no documentation of why students of different ages
were dressed alike and photographed, or dressed differently and photographed
with different expressions. A brief history of the school, Alexander Mell, and
the ties to Perkins are provided. So are two links to articles by Mell that
have been digitized and made available on the internet archive, though they are
in German. The importance of providing surviving information about this school is evident. By providing as much context and resources that
are currently available is done in an effort to balance out what cannot be determined and the context of why, how, and when they were made.
While the mission of Perkins is framed around education, the core value of
advocacy is defined as striving to be a, “model of accessibility in our actions
and attitudes, fostering and advocating for an environment of inclusion.”[13] Describing digital photographs involves a level of description
that is time consuming but necessary to meet this institutional requirement. Description must include a summary of what is happening in the photograph. This level of description benefits all researchers, find-ability online, and could potentially allow
for the mention of visual cues that could foster critical reading.
Taking
a suggested two minutes to study a photograph and listing observations is
considered the first two steps in reading a photograph according to
Ritzenthaler and Vogt-O’Connor.[14] The necessity of making
digitized photographs accessible to the visually impaired means these two steps
have to be followed. While I understand the practicality of collection level
metadata, or even multi-level options, that Ann Foster advocates, I feel the
solution suffers from more than inaccessibility for the visually impaired.[15] I think it provides a one
size-fits all solution that sacrifices the details that give purpose or meaning
to the subject and corresponding historical background. In both collections
discussed above, providing generalized descriptions would leave critical
reading of the photographs depended on a viewer’s visual literacy and their
familiarity of the whole collection. The digitization of the Perkins
photographs makes the full context the collection provides likely to be lost.
Perkins
Archives currently uses Flickr and the Internet Archives as digital
repositories. Album-wide and collection-wide descriptions are provided, along
with links to related collections and more information, if applicable. Having
rich descriptions at the item level are essential in providing accessibility to
the visually impaired, but also could provide opportunities to include visual clues that could help tell the story of the larger collection.
The
third step suggested by Ritzenthaler and Vogt-O’Connor, for reading
photographs, requires consideration of the different kinds of meaning derived
by asking such questions such as, what are the “creator viewpoints,” and “intended audience”[16]
Familiarity with visual language is essential in this process. Adding
observations of visual language to descriptions that already describe what is
going on in the picture would likely add very little time to the descriptions process already required. For example, describing an expression on a person’s
face. Devlieger observes a look of discomfort in a photograph in the De Deyne
collection that he interprets as unfamiliarity with the fancy clothing and
toy he is posed with.[17] The lack of these fancy
things within the larger collection also hints these things are out of the ordinary. Just as
important will be to identify all assumptions in this process, so as to avoid
making inferences, as suggested by Ritzenthaler and Vogt-O’Connor.[18] Carefully including visual
language could initiate the process of a more critical reading of a photograph.
This is especially useful on a platform like Flickr where the images are
accessible by a very wide group of people with diverse visual literacy skill.
Michael Lesy points out, there are “multiple truths embedded in a single
photograph,” and critical readings are in someway always biased by the viewer.[19] While I would agree with
this sentiment, I believe it is could be more beneficial to thoughtfully
include visual cues. These cues could provoke the reader to contemplate more than
one meaning.
Through example of the De Deyne archival
photograph collection, I see how important and complicated retaining context
and meaning can be. Not contributing to misrepresentation and prejudice, while
providing individual photographs from an associated collection that often
contains different and exploitative purposes, is an important ethical
consideration. A similar collection of
photographs at Perkins provides the same complicated problems of description
and context, but with much less information to draw from and the added
complication of dissociation caused by digitization. When describing digital
photographs, steps taken to observe the details and possible meaning derived
from visual language, compliments steps already taken to make photographs
accessible to the visually impaired. The extra time and detail added has the
potential to provide context and visual language that I think could enhance
research about the history of people with disabilities without adding to that
marginalization. By ensuring photographs are accessible to the visually
impaired there is an opportunity to call out details that make our photographs
more findable, and potentially more useful by carefully providing visual
language cues to ensure critical reading of the photographs by all
types of researchers. To do so, does not remove the ethical dilemmas associated
with these photographs but may help acknowledge the dilemmas, and avoid
perpetuating prejudicial narratives.
[1] Gary L. Albrecht, ed., “Representations of
Disability, Social” Encyclopedia of
Disability, Vol. 3 (2008): 1395.
[2] Patrick Devlieger et
al., “Visualising Disability in the Past ,” Paedagogica
Historica 44, no. 6 (2008): 760.
[10] “Typen von der Blinden,” Perkins School for the Blind
Archives, accessed December 5, 2015,
https://www.flickr.com/photos/perkinsarchive/sets/72157633643405494/.
[11] “Imperial Royal Institute for the Education of the Blind,
Vienna,” Perkins School for the Blind Archives, accessed December 5, 2015, https://www.flickr.com/photos/perkinsarchive/collections/72157634317617235/.
[12] Kenneth Stuckey, “Samuel P. Hayes Research Library,” The Lantern XLIV, no. 1(1980), accessed
December 5, 2015,
https://archive.org/stream/lantern7984unkn#page/n61/mode/2up/search/mell.
[13] “Core Values,”
Perkins School for the Blind, accessed December 5, 2015,
http://www.perkins.org/about.
[14] Mary Lynn Ritzenthaler and Diane Vogt-O’Connor, Photographs: Archival Care and Management, (Chicago:
Society of American Archivists, 2006), 61.
[15] Anne L. Foster, Anne L “Minimum Standards Processing and
Photographic Collections.” Archival
Issues 107, (2008): 116-117.
Bibliography
Albrecht, Gary L. ed., Encyclopedia of Disability. Vol. 3, s.v. “Representations of Disability, Social.” Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc., 2006.
Devlieger, Patrick, et al. “Visualising Disability in the Past.” Paedagogica Historica 44, no. 6 (2008): 747-760.
Foster, Anne L. “Minimum Standards Processing and Photographic Collections.” Archival Issues 30, no. 2 (2006) : 107-118.
Lesy, Michael. “Visual Literacy.” Journal Of American History 94, no. 1 (2007): 143-153.
Perkins School for the Blind, “Core Values.” Accessed December 5, 2015. http://www.perkins.org/about.
Ritzenthaler, Mary Lynn, Diane Vogt-O’Connor, and Mary Lynn Ritzenthaler. Photographs: Archival Care and Management. Chicago: Society of American Archivists, 2006.
Stuckey, Kenneth “Samuel P. Hayes Research Library,” The Lantern XLIV, no. 1 (1980), accessed December 5, 2015, https://archive.org/stream/lantern7984unkn#page/
n61/mode/2up/search/mell.
n61/mode/2up/search/mell.
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