The 2013 Global Human Rights Essay Contest on “Human Right City” (Hereafter HRC Essay Contest) is a joint initiative by the Human Rights Center of Seoul National University, the May 18 Institute of Chonnam National University, and the Korea Human Rights Foundation (KHRF) with support of the Metropolitan City of Gwangju in connection with the 3rd World Human Rights Cities Forum (WHRCF) which will be held from 16 to 18 May 2013 in Gwangju, South Korea.
It is co-sponsored by the following partner organizations; UNESCO Asia-Pacific Center of Education for International Understanding (APCEIU), United Cities and Local Governments (UCLG) - Committee on Social Inclusion, Participatory
Democracy and Human Rights, CIVICUS-World Alliance for Citizen Participation and CARR CENTER for Human Rights Policy of HARVARD Kennedy School
Its primary goal is to promote university students’ and youth participation in the building of a human rights city through the articulation of their visions and experiences about human rights city. The ideas and proposals contained in the essays are expected to be used for the promotion of a human rights city as a means to localize human rights in the context of glocalization (globalization + localization) and glurbanization (globalization + urbanization), in particular, for the implementation of the 2011 Gwangju Declaration on Human Rights City and the 2012 Gwangju Statement of the WHRCF, Global Charter-Agenda for Human Rights in the City of the UCLG, and research on local government and human rights of the UN Human Rights Council Advisory Committee (HRCAC).
Three semi-finalists will make presentations and compete for first place on 15 May 2015 prior to the WHRCF in Gwangju, South Korea.
2. Eligibility
In order to provide a platform for the youth and young adults to actively participate in human rights,the HRC Essay Contest is open to youth from the age of 30 and younger.
Restriction applies to youth that have Ph. D.
Award winners from previous HRC Essay Contest are also restricted from applying.
3. Procedures and Deadlines
All participants must complete register no later than on or before 1 Feb., 2013 by midnight Korea Standard Time (KST). Registration will be accepted starting on January 10, 2013 at www.humanrights.or.kr
The deadline for submission of essay is on March 1, 2013 by midnight Korea Standard Time (KST).
The announcement of the 3 candidates for the final round will be made online at the HRC Essay Contest Website on April 1, 2013.
The 3 finalists from the respective Korean and English tracksare invited to make presentations of their essays before judges on May 15, 2013during the WHRCF2013.
The award ceremony will take place on May 17, 2013 at the closing session of the WHRCF.
4. Language and Length
Participants have an option of writing the essay in Korean or English.
Length of essay should be between 5,000 and 10,000 words
Sources and quotations must be cited properly.
Plagiarism will not be tolerated.
Proper bibliography or footnotes must be included.
5. Writing Topics and Guidelines
The essay is expected to deal with issues related to human rights city.
The essay is expected to answer the following hypothetical question “If I were to change my city to a human rights city– how would I promote and implement human rights city in the local and/or national context”.
The city that you plan to write about can be a city that you are a resident of or a city that you are particularly interested in. The city must not be hypothetical.
The essay may be writtenby an individual or a group (maximum of 3 writers). In the case that a group is chosen as a finalist, only one writer will be funded to present at the WHRCF 2013.
Participants should read the following basic documents before the writing the essay in accordance with the guideline questions.
① Gwangju Declaration on a Human Rights City of the WHRCF 2011(17 May 2011)
The main contents must have one or a few of the following questions as the base argument:
Guideline questions for essay writing :
① How can you address the challenges and implement the recommendations contained in the 2011 Gwangju Declaration on Human Rights City and 2012 Gwangju Statement of the WHRCF in your own city and local community?
② How can you implement the Global Charter-Agenda for Human Rights in the City in your own city and local community?
③ How can your own city or local government contribute to the implementation of the recommendations of UN Human Rights Treaty bodies, special procedures mandate holders and the Universal Periodic Review (UPR) to your own national government? (please refer to www.ohchr.org for detailed information on the UN recommendations to your own country)
④ What are some key challenges in building the human rights city and how can you overcome them in your own city, local community and/or country?
**Please keep in mind that you are not restricted to write on only one topic nor limited on the topics stated above. Multiple ideas/topics that can properly express your ideal human rights city can be used.
6. Recognition and Awards
Upon initial review, 3 finalists each from the Korean track and English track will be chosen and announced on April 1, 2013.
The 3 candidates will then be invited to make presentations of their essays before the panel of judges in the final round on 15 May 2013 prior the WHRCF 2013.
In the case of a team paper of overseas participants is chosen as a finalist, the main writer or 1 representative will be funded to make the presentation in Gwangju, Korea.
In the case the selected finalist is not able to attend the WHRCF and compete in the final round of the essay contest, the opportunity will then go to the next contestant that scored the highest during the initial judging.
The awards are as follows.
Airfare and accommodations to attend the WHRCF 2013 for all finalists. *If a team is selected as a finalist, airfare and accommodations will be compensated for one member.
<Korean Track>
- First Prize: 1 person/team will receive Gwangju City Mayor Award, KRW3,000,000
- Second Prize: 1 person/team will receive Gwangju City Mayor Award, KRW 2,000,000
- Third Prize: 1 person/team receive Gwangju City Mayor Award, KRW 1,000,000
<English Track>
- First Prize: 1 person/team will receive Gwangju City Mayor Award, US $3,000
- Second Prize: 1 person/team will receive Gwangju City Mayor Award, US $2,000
- Third Prize: 1 person/team receive Gwangju City Mayor Award, US $1,000
7. Submission and Inquries
Registration will close on midnight (KST) on 1 February, 2013. All participants MUST register online. Registration will be available starting January 10, 2013 at www.humanrights.or.kr
Papers must be submitted online through the human rights cities website www.humanrights.or.kr. There will be a space where papers can be uploaded.
All papers must be sent by no later than midnight (KST) on March 1, 2013.
All submissions must be in Microsoft Word format (.doc).
Your Dark Hair Ihsan Tala Hadid Documentary | Morocco | 2004
In Your Dark Hair, Ihsan, a man returns to his homeland to rediscover the mother who left him. This emotive and vivid film explores the tragedy and romance inherent in memories. By blending dream sequence, flashback, and realism into one smooth wave, the film captures the surreal intangibility of reclaiming a past through fragments of memory. Both powerful and gentle, Your Dark Hair, Ihsan works as an evocative ebb and flow of past and present, memory and history, and departure and return.
Born in London to a Moroccan mother and an Iraqi father, Tala Hadid completed her 12-minute short thesis film Your Dark Hair Ihsan in 2005. Recorded in Morocco and its Rif Mountains, the film was awarded the Cinecolor/Kodak Prize (2005) and the Panorama Best short Film Award at the Berlin Film Festival (2006).
The following video has been produced by Thabo Thindi, of http://jozi.tv about the staged reading of Amy Evan's play "The most unsatisfied Town", premiered on Tuesday, 27 April 2010 at the Institute for Cultural Inquiry (ICI). The play is based on the widely mediatised case of Oury Jalloh who burned to death while shackled to the floor of a Dessau jail cell.
This is an interview conducted by D J Clark with the Director of Drik photo agency in Bangladesh, Shahidul Alam, on ethics in photography. Shahidul concentrates on reportage or social documentary photography, a genre of photography where the ethical standards are very stringent. He speaks from that perspective. The interview was conducted at Pathshala photographic school in Daka, Bangladesh. Editing of the final video was done by David A. Larsen in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa. The questions asked of the interviewee were not included in the raw footage so they had to be surmised and may not be related in the same way they were asked in the original interview.
Shahidul Alam’s exhibition, ‘Crossfire’ (a euphemism for extrajudicial killings by the Rapid Action Battalion), was scheduled to open on March 22, at Drik Gallery, Dhaka. A police lockup of Drik’s premises before the opening prevented noted Indian writer and social activist Mahasweta Devi from entering, forcing her to declare the opening on the street outside Drik. The police blockage was removed soon after Drik’s lawyers served legal notice and the lawyers had moved the Court, and after Government lawyers i.e., the Attorney Generals office, had contacted the Dhaka Metropolitan Police Commissioner’s office, and the Home Ministry, during the hearing on the government. The court commented that even after repeated rules had been issued on the government, crossfire had continued to occur. The court’s response and subsequent events enabled Drik to open the exhibition for public viewing on March 31.
Shahidul Alam in front of a collage, part of his Crossfire exhibition. Cartoon in the background of Home Minister Sahara Khatun, ‘No crossfire killing taken place’. — Wahid Adnan/DrikNEWS
You work in the documentary genre, this work is show-cased as being symbolic, interpretive. Does this mean a change in genres?
I find these categorisations problematic. I see myself as a storyteller. There’s fiction and non-fiction. This is clearly non-fiction, though it draws upon many of the techniques that fiction would use. The allegorical approach was deliberately chosen as I felt it had, in this instance, greater interpretive potential than the literal approach. Quite apart from the fact that one could hardly expect RAB to allow photographers to document their killing (they do sometimes have TV crews accompanying them on ‘missions’ but they are never allowed to be there during ‘crossfire’), I felt that showing bodies, blood and weapons would not add to the understanding people already had. We are not dealing with lack of knowledge. ‘Crossfire’ is known and, in fact, it is because it is known that the exhibition is seen as such a threat. So, while reinforcing the known with images would have a value, it would be unlikely to be as provocative as these more subtle but haunting images are likely to be.
I wanted the images to linger in people’s minds, perhaps to haunt them. They are desolate images, quiet but suggestive. The attempt is not one of inundating the audience with information, but leaving them to meditate upon the silence of the dead.
Crossfire deaths continue despite regime changes. How do you view this?
Criminals have survived because of patronage of the powerful. The removal of criminals, through ‘crossfire’, does not affect the system of control, but merely substitutes existing criminals for new ones. This is why crimes continue unabated under RAB. All it does is to undermine the legal system. Unless serious attempts are made to remove such patronage and, better still, catch the godfathers, the extermination of thugs and local-level criminals (and many innocent people are also killed) will have no effect on crime. The ruling elite knows this. So why use RAB at all? I believe it is to keep control. Dead criminals don’t speak. Don’t give secrets away. Don’t take a share of the spoils. They are disposable, and RAB is the disposal system.
Every government has used RAB and other law enforcement authorities to remove troublemakers. Bangla Bhai had become a liability when he was apprehended. He didn’t die in crossfire, but was hurriedly hanged all the same despite the fact that he wanted to talk to the media as he had ‘stories to tell’. Dead people don’t tell stories. So, all governments would rather have RAB, to clean up their mess, than be confronted by their own shadows.
A change of government does not change this structure.
The inclusion of the Google map has turned this exhibition into a collective, history-writing project. Why that added dimension?
Art projects are generally about the glorification of the artist. The audience is generally a passive recipient. I see this as a public project. I have a role to play as a storyteller, but my work is informed by not only the collective work of my co-researchers, but also that of human rights groups, other activists, and most importantly by the lives, or deaths, of the people whose stories are being told. The survivors, the witnesses and others affected by these deaths are important players in this story and it was essential to find a way to make this project inclusive. I would be kidding myself if I assumed this show would put an end to extrajudicial killings. I also believe there are still many unreported cases.
The Google map has the twin benefits of being interactive and open. We have already been told of one person who had been crossfired but his name hadn’t come up in the archival research.
The internet will also allow a much wider participation than might otherwise have been possible.
Besides the Awami League’s electoral pledge of stopping extrajudicial killings, it had also promised us a ‘digital Bangladesh’. I think it is appropriate that this digital Bangladesh be claimed by the people.
What is the significance of research—in the sense of dates, names, places, events—for this project, and for the exhibition?
The assumed veracity of the photographic image is an important source of the strength of this exhibition. We have deliberately moved away from the mechanical aspect of recording events through images, but supplemented it by relating the image to verifiable facts. Meticulous research has gone into not only providing the context for the photographs, which has been included in the Google map, but each image, in some way, refers to a visual inspired by a case study. By deliberately retaining some ambiguity about the ‘facts’ surrounding the image, we invite the viewer to delve deeper into the image to discover the physical basis of the analogy, and to reflect upon the image. The photographs therefore become a portal through which the viewer can enter the story, rather than the story in itself. Yet, each image, relates to a finite, physical instance, that becomes a reference point for a life that was brutally taken away.
Your exhibition is political, with a capital ‘P’. Why is political engagement generally not seen in the work of Bangladeshi artists?
Art cannot be dissociated from life, and life is distinctly political. To paraphrase the renowned Palestinian cartoonist Naji al-Ali, the price of tomato is political. However, life is also nuanced and multi-layered. Our art practice needs to be critically engaged at all levels. While the war of liberation is understandably a source of inspiration for many artists, there are many other wars of contemporary life that seem to slip from the artist’s canvas. Most artists, with some exceptions of course, claim they produce art merely for themselves. I don’t believe them. Of course there is great joy in producing art that pleases oneself. But I believe art is the medium and not the message, and all artists, I suspect, want their art to have an effect.
I know it is passé in some quarters to be producing art that is political. Being apolitical is a political stance too. While I can understand schools of thought that have rebelled against the traditional trappings of art, I do not see the point of producing art that is not meaningful. Strong art is capable of engaging with people. It is that engagement that I seek. My art is merely a tool towards that engagement.
I understand what you mean. A lot of the artwork that’s being produced in Bangladesh stems from commercial interests. Producing formulaic work that sells is the job of a technician and not an artist. Sure, an artist needs to survive and we all produce work which we hope might sell, but once that becomes the sole purpose of producing art, one is probably not an artist in the first place.
There is a strong adherence in Bangladesh to an antiquated form of pictorialism. This applies both to representational and abstract art. Ideas seem to take back stage. While I’m wary of pseudo intellectualisation of art, I must admit that the cerebral aspects of art excite me. The politicisation is an extension of that process.
Books on crossfire have been published, roundtable discussions have been held. Why did the government react as it did, do you think it says something about the power of photography?
The association of photographs with real events makes the photographer a primary witness, and thereby the photograph becomes documentary evidence. This makes photography both powerful and dangerous. Way back in 1909, much before Photoshop came into play, Lewis Hine had said ‘While photographs may not lie, liars may photograph.’
Today, liars who run corporations and rule powerful nations, also have photography at their disposal. This very powerful tool is used and abused, and it is essential that we come to grips with this new language. Advertising agencies with huge budgets use photography to shape our minds about products we buy. Politicians and their campaigns are also products that we, as consumers, are encouraged to buy into. I see no restrictions on the lies we are fed every day through advertising or political propaganda. It is when the public has access to the same tools, and in particular when they use it to expose injustice that photography becomes a problem. These seemingly ‘innocent’ photographs become charged with meaning as soon as we learn to read their underlying meaning. This makes them dangerous.
Perhaps this is also why photographic education has been systematically excluded from our education system. A tool for public emancipation will never be welcomed by an oppressive regime. And we will have oppressive regimes for a while to come.
‘Crossfire’ was curated by an international curator, and you yourself have curated exhibitions abroad. Do you think international curators are more likely to engage with work such as ‘Crossfire’ on the basis of aesthetic considerations rather than lived, political ones, since s/he will be less knowledgeable about its history, meanings, metaphors, how the government has manufactured popular consent, resistance, etc. For instance, and you mention it in the brochure: John Pilger, the well-known journalist, had written when Barrister Moudood Ahmed had been arrested during the Fakhruddin-Moeenudin regime, he’s ‘a decent, brave man.’ And of course, it’s quite possible that Pilger didn’t know that the Barrister saheb, as law minister, was one of the political architects of RAB.
Ah yes, Pilger bungled that one. I think artistic collaborations create new possibilities. Our art practice is so often informed by western sensibilities that we at Drik deliberately explore southern interactions. The discussions between Kunda Dixit of Nepal and Marcelo Brodsky of Argentina in Chobi Mela V (our festival of photography) pointed to the remarkable similarity between the political movements in Peru and in South Asia. This made the inclusion of a Peruvian curator even more interesting, and Jorge Villacorte is a respected Latin American curator and art critic. Several other recognised international curators, from Lebanon, Tangiers and Italy had seen the show. I was somewhat surprised that while they introduced interesting ideas about curatorial and art practice and were hugely appreciative of the aesthetic and performative elements of the work, not one of them ever asked me about the impact it might have upon crossfire itself. Though it would be arrogant to suggest that this show would put an end to that.
As someone deeply in love with my country (I find words like patriotic and nationalistic problematic), my primary concern is the welfare of my community. If my work can contribute to improving the lives of my people, I will have been successful, regardless of how my art is perceived by critics. If the work is perceived as great art, but fails in its ultimate goal of furthering the cause of social justice, then I will have failed.
That said, the exhibition was only a small part of the larger movement for democracy. The activism surrounding the show, the legal action, the media mobilisation, and the spontaneous popular actions were all part of the process. The international curator had an important role to play, but only as a point of departure. We have since had students critiquing the curatorial process, where they have brought in elements relating to their political practice and social concerns. The debate resulting from the work is more important than the work itself. But it is the power of art, and particularly photography that makes such actions so vital.
There is an interesting sub-text to this exercise. The dinosaurs of Bangladeshi art have been incapable of recognising photography as an art form. Photographers are still not invited to participate in the Asian Biennale (though foreign photographers have even won the grand prize in the event). There is still no department of photography in either Shilapakala Academy (the academy of fine and performing arts) or Charukala Institute (the institute of fine arts). These are 19th-century institutions operating in the 21st century. It is interesting however, that while Charukala Institute refused to show my work in 1989, because it was a photographic, and not a painting, exhibition, it was the students of Charukala Institute who organised the first public protests when the police came and blockaged our gallery to prevent the opening of the Crossfire exhibition. It is reassuring that the students at least can raise their heads and look above the sand.
Rahnuma Ahmed
Drik under Crossfire (Independent) Posted in New Age on 8th April 2010
Joe Penney interviews Azu Nwagbogu December 1, 2011
Lagos Photo Festival founder Azu Nwagbogu on combating Afro-pessimism, the dialogue between Africa and the West, and depicting the “other Africa” of industry and intellect.
Photography by Joe Penney
Think Lagos, Nigeria, and a certain nightmarish vision of the future often emerges: an overcrowded, polluted, and chaotic city with a reputation for violent crime. Africa’s fastest-growing city of 15 million (in the continent’s most populous nation) has a checkered past, but that’s quickly changing.
Buoyed by the successful hosting of Fela!—the acclaimed Broadway play was the first to be staged in Nigeria, and played to a packed, raucous house of the country’s growing middle and upper-middle classes for nearly two weeks earlier this year — a rising set of urban Nigerians (often with connections to New York and London) are forging a world-class arts scene that is set to command ever more international attention in the coming years. New boutiques promoting young Nigerian designers are springing up around the city, while galleries play host to emerging talents along with distinguished names like Yinka Shonibare. New publishers promote fresh voices like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Ben Okri alongside well-established figures like Chinua Achebe and Nobel Prize–winner Wole Soyinka, while musicians flock to the mecca of the Afrobeat renaissance, Femi Kuti’s New Afrika Shrine.
Lagos State Governor Babatunde Fashola, widely regarded as the most successful administrator the city has ever seen, was re-elected in April with 81 percent of the vote. His cleanup of some of the city’s most unruly areas and championing of a rapid bus system have contributed immensely to the current mood of optimism in Africa’s most explosive and energetic mega-city.
It is in this context that LagosPhoto, a new annual photography festival aimed at “representing African sensibilities,” has arisen. Now in its second year, LagosPhoto recently hosted an indoor and outdoor exhibition featuring a mix of forty-one Nigerian and international photographers, workshops, and a fashion exhibition. LagosPhoto attempts to challenge the idea that “discourses on the [African] continent are not necessarily applicable to their object [and that] their nature, their stakes, and their functions are situated elsewhere,” according to Cameroonian academic Achille Mbembe.
The festival is the brainchild of Azu Nwagbogu, a native Lagosian and the founder of the African Artists’ Foundation, an organization that works to promote Nigerian artists. Nwagbogu hails from a royal family in Onitsha, southeastern Nigeria, and contemplated entering the world of professional boxing before pursuing a master’s degree in public health from Cambridge University. Upon returning to Nigeria, however, he switched his focus to promoting the arts in Africa’s fastest-growing city and commandeering the information flow from the Global South. I met Nwagbogu during LagosPhoto at the marble-paneled bar at a hotel overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Wearing his trademark orange trousers—designed and sewn in Lagos—he spoke to me at length about the image of the continent he holds dear to his heart, his soft voice betraying the grand scope of his ambition.
—Joe Penney for Guernica
Guernica: How did LagosPhoto come about? What were the beginnings?
Azu Nwagbogu: First of all, I’m a fan of photography as an artistic medium. I flirted with a bunch of ideas around photography: I have set up a photo agency because there’s a massive pool of talented photographers here. But there isn’t really a formal school for photography here, and I thought, how do I stimulate this industry? Beyond that, in my international travels I’ve been to various exhibitions, various art shows around the world. Going out there and being inspired by images captured on the continent, especially in Lagos, made me think, you know, a lot of these guys, foreign photographers coming to Africa, working here, are documenting something really important, and a lot of people back home are not able to dialogue or really engage in these images because they’re not exhibited here. So I thought it would be great to have a festival where local and international photographers can dialogue and exchange ideas, can share work and have a working partnership. This is really the key thing for LagosPhoto—to create a dialogue for local photographers and photographers based elsewhere to tell the stories and give voice to the stories that we feel are underrepresented on the continent.
[Photography is] the fastest growing art tool on the continent, and it’s perhaps the easiest to gain access to.
Guernica: So in a way it’s an initiative to develop image making in Africa?
Azu Nwagbogu: That’s right. To develop the talent pool and also to tell our own stories in our own way. A lot of the stories that we want to tell are less commonly seen or represented in popular media.
Guernica: Why is that important?
Azu Nwagbogu: The key thing is we need to give voice to our people to tell their own stories; we need to give voice to the majority population so that we can actually visualize ourselves the way we want to be. If everything we know about our culture, heritage, and day-to-day living is imparted onto us from outside, then it makes it difficult for us to tell our own stories or to be inspired by the lives that we want for ourselves. So we need to fight against stereotypes. We need to tell the full gamut of the stories, represent the stories that are important to us, our culture, our lifestyle, our existence in the world, our space on the planet, and the way that we see ourselves. And that’s why it’s important to develop photographers and photography: because it’s the fastest growing art tool on the continent, and it’s perhaps the easiest to gain access to.
Guernica: What do you see as the role for Western photographers in this?
Azu Nwagbogu: I think it’s a dual role. When we invite Western photographers here, we ask them and encourage them to partner with local photographers so that there’s a cultural and creative dialogue going on. It’s not a situation where we expect Western photographers to teach or impart. It’s an exchange. The photographers here are doing very well for themselves, but they also need to learn the things that are important in the West, like how to get published, how to get access to mainstream media, how to get your work out there so that people can actually engage with your images. It’s important to create that dialogue, and it’s important to create the cultural discourse and the technical partnership as well.
Guernica: Where is photography in Nigeria now?
Azu Nwagbogu: If you had asked this question only five years ago, the answer would have been completely different. You would only be able to name a handful of photographers doing important work. But now it’s different—there’s a massive talent pool out there, and photographers are beginning to create niches for themselves, which is the key thing that we’re trying to do with LagosPhoto. We’re trying to encourage photographers to focus on specific areas at a time so the work has more depth and meaning. There’s emotion, there’s more investment in it; it’s not just a quick thing that you go out and do for a few days. We want photographers to spend a month, spend six months, spend years developing a project, so that when viewers look at the images they can relate to them in a deeper sense.
When you have 150 million people and you develop the talent out there, it’s just statistics that there’s going to be a massive talent pool.
Guernica: Historically, photography has often been viewed as a trade rather than a social tool in Africa. Do you see that changing?
Azu Nwagbogu: Oh, for sure. The photographers who focus as sociologists, if you’d like, in the community and go out and do work for themselves and develop these projects—it’s something that is growing on the continent over the last few years. Maybe the festival has played an important role in this, I don’t know, but I can tell that a lot more photographers are interested in stories and following projects to a deeper extent. Also because they realize that if it’s not published locally it can probably be published internationally, if it’s done right. That’s something that’s not supported by the government. A Dutch photographer, for example, can get a grant from the arts fund or something, but locally the photographers here don’t get the same support and have to really support themselves by doing projects on the side. This is something that we are well aware of, and we are looking to support the photographers in a deeper way by having artist residencies, supporting photographers to do stories for periods at a time. The African Artists’ Foundation [AAF] has actually engaged a few photographers to follow certain projects for a sustained period and supported the artists for this period, whereby we have a shared ownership of the work. This initiative is actually working.
Guernica: Where do you see photography in Africa going in the next few years, and how do you see AAF’s relationship to that?
Azu Nwagbogu: I think AAF’s LagosPhoto is very important in driving photography in Africa, and especially Nigeria, because a lot more photographers are interested in developing their talent and in the fact that we have this month-long event that really develops photography through workshops, through seminars, through photo-walks, through various tutorials that we set up throughout the year. Nigeria has an incredibly large population, and if we invest in our population we definitely have a chance to develop the community. When you have 150 million people and you develop the talent out there, it’s just statistics that there’s going to be a massive talent pool. If you invest in this population, then you know that you have the chance to develop several future champions, big-name photographers who will do well and do the continent proud. The African Artists’ Foundation depends on a lot of friends and support from both local and international photographers who have come to teach and impart skills to the young and up-and-coming guys, because there are no formal schools for photography here.
Guernica: Why photography? Why is it so important to you?
Azu Nwagbogu: I’m not a photographer myself, it’s not something that I have an overly familiar relationship with. It’s just another medium. What I do in photography I do in other visual art forms—in sculpture, in painting—and if I had more time I’d probably do the same in literature as well. So it’s just another tool, and I think it’s an important tool. You never forget a really powerful image. If you attend a photo exhibition and you truly engage with it, you never really forget the images that resonate with you when it’s all done. My relationship with photography is not very personal, but I have a lot of respect for photography as a tool, as a medium. A lot of people can relate to it, and the opportunities for photography to travel are a lot faster than any other medium.
Guernica: Is there such a thing as African photography, or is the continent too big to speak of it as a whole?
Azu Nwagbogu: You can create patterns. There are definitely patterns of photography on the continent. If you look, for example, at the work of Malick Sidibé, we’ve moved on now. I wouldn’t say there’s any such thing as real African photography, but if you look back on what has been documented on African photography, then you can see patterns. But looking ahead and looking at the present, I wouldn’t say there’s any such thing as African photography. One of the things about LagosPhoto is that we’re determined to represent photography in its full range. So we’re interested in architectural photography, photo-documentary, art photography, book publications. We’re interested in anything that really resonates and captures the sensibilities of the continent and the people.
Guernica: If you look at the way Africa is represented in the West, it’s usually as a separate showcase of “African photography.” How do you see that?
I don’t think it’s important to categorize work based on the country of birth of the photographer. It creates unnecessary dialogue with the work.
Azu Nwagbogu: I think that’s unfortunate, and I don’t think it’s helpful at all. A lot of photographers who have shown at LagosPhoto 2011 are actually European photographers who have lived here, and the work they’ve done is different from photographers who have spent a week doing a story here. A lot of the people have spent years living in Africa, and so this is what’s important: showing stories and showing work that shows a deeper understanding of the continent. You’ll find that snapshots are overly represented in the mainstream media. I don’t think it’s important to categorize work based on the country of birth of the photographer. It creates unnecessary dialogue with the work.
Guernica: How would you like to see photography in Africa represented? Will LagosPhoto show elsewhere in the world?
Azu Nwagbogu: We’d love to show LagosPhoto, and we’ve been speaking with other partners like Foam [in Amsterdam]. We want to represent African sensibilities to a wider audience. I don’t mean showing the work of local photographers—I mean showing the photographers who we think are representing the continent in a truer fashion, as opposed to showing the work of people who are coming for two weeks on an assignment and heading back to New York and sitting back with a drink after their hardship posting on the continent. We want to show the work of people who actually spend time here, who are emotionally invested, who have captured sensibilities on the continent. It’s very important that the world take notice of these stories. I’m tired of people meeting me when I go abroad and saying, “you sound different, you think different from other Africans.” I don’t think different from other Africans—it’s very common. I’m like a lot of people who are here, it’s just that people aren’t used to engaging or dialoguing with “the other Africa,” if you’d like.
Guernica: How long will LagosPhoto go on for?
Azu Nwagbogu: Well if I’m on my deathbed, I’d like to hear that LagosPhoto will be going on the year after I’m gone. But as I say, it’s not very personal. I want it to be bigger than myself, bigger than the foundation. It’s unfortunate because other photo festivals on the continent seem to represent Africa in a very—should I say the accepted fashion?
Guernica: What’s the accepted fashion?
Azu Nwagbogu: It’s a bit like Hollywood—there are five or six formats for the way we tell stories in Hollywood. To tell African stories there are certain patterns: the corruption, the poverty, the “noble savage,” and all of these stereotypes to those of us who live here. I think it’s important to represent the “other Africa,” as I call it, to tell a more rounded story. Of course these commonly represented stories are not untrue, but it’s important to show fashion photography, for example, to show the style of the people, to show the industry and intellect, the normality of the life we live here. One of the things we hope LagosPhoto will be is a mirror to our politicians: we can create change by holding up a mirror to decision makers, to stakeholders. But I don’t think you can hold it up to them if you overly represent the negative. I think it’s important to show the positives as well, and to show a more rounded view. The problem of Africa really is the Afro-pessimism, where we show the hopelessness of the African situation. It leads to apathy, and no one wants to do anything. You think it’s hopeless, so what’s the point? But if we represent a more rounded view and we’re able to advocate and get invested people to come together, then I think photography will play a key role in creating the vision of the continent we all want to see.
To contact Guernica or Azu Nwagbogu, please write here.
by BAR editor and senior columnist Margaret Kimberley
Want to hear a real life story of Black love in the time of slavery? Read a book. The fictional Django has nothing on the flesh and blood brother Madison Washington, whose love for his wife, his people, and freedom could fill a TV miniseries or several spaghetti westerns.
“Audiences cheering the exploits of the Django fictional character do so in part because they mistakenly believe that this work of fiction has no historical basis in it at all.”
Americans suffer because of a longstanding, deliberate and conscious effort to either obfuscate or to tell outright lies about their nation’s history. Millions of people will say that their country is the greatest in the world not merely because of patriotism, but because the true stories of our history have been disappeared by design. Perhaps the historical topic which is the least known in any substantive way, but which still impacts our lives in 2013, is slavery. Slavery determined how the Constitution is written, why our capital is located where it is, why wars were fought, and as a television show is titled, how the states got their shapes.
It is little wonder that a new film, Django Unchained, has generated so much controversy. The combination of a very painful subject and the lack of information which has been disseminated about it have made a movie a hot topic of conversation. Sadly that discussion has not been very useful.
The Django character is fictional, but history tells us about men who did in fact risk freedom to free their families still in bondage. One man, Madison Washington, failed in his goal to reach his still enslaved wife but succeeded in freeing himself and 130 other men, women and children in 1841.
Among the little known facts which have been lost as a result of the lies of omission and commission is that many thousands of enslaved people were transported within the United States via slave ship. Some were “sold down the (Mississippi) river,” others were transported on ships which plied the eastern and gulf coasts, taking their human cargo to slave markets in New Orleans and Galveston and Mobile and Savannah and Charleston and other cities.
“History tells us about men who did in fact risk freedom to free their families still in bondage.”
Madison Washington successfully fled from Virginia to Canada in 1839 or 1840 and remained there for approximately one year. While he succeeded in safely freeing himself, he longed to be reunited with his wife. Against the advice of abolitionists who assisted him, he returned to Virginia but was captured and re-enslaved. Along with 130 other men, women and children, he was on board the Creole and bound for the New Orleans slave market.
On November 7, 1841 Madison led an insurrection aboard the Creole and with help from his comrades sailed to Nassau in the Bahamas. The Bahamas were under British rule and as such had abolished slavery. The American government demanded that the Creole be returned and that the enslaved persons on board be returned to bondage. The American consul even attempted to retake the vessel, but failed to do so as a result of vigilance among the Bahamians. The British remained steadfast in upholding their laws, and while Washington failed to rescue his wife he succeeded in securing his freedom and that of 130 other people.
Madison Washington was not alone in using the ocean to free himself. Robert Smalls was hired out by his slaveholder as a dockworker and eventually learned to pilot a boat. On the evening of May 12, 1862 Smalls and a group of other enslaved men stole the CSS Planter from the Charleston, South Carolina harbor when the crew went ashore. They had plotted their escape for months and were able to stop and free their families before bringing the ship to the safety of the Union fleet. Smalls went on to serve in the Union war effort and after the war was elected to serve as a senator representing the state that was first to rebel against the Union.
“In general, slavery is swept under the rug, and the descendants of those held in bondage are left with little information or, worse yet, shame about their ancestors.”
Audiences cheering the exploits of the Django fictional character do so in part because they mistakenly believe that this work of fiction has no historical basis in it at all. Do they know that in reality hundreds of black men and women fought for their freedom? There were slave revolts and attempted revolts carried out by Nat Turner and Gabriel in Virginia and Charles Deslonde in Louisiana. Henry “Box” Brown mailed himself from Virginia to New York and made himself a freeman. Harriet Tubman was not content to free herself, but risked capture on numerous occasions to bring hundreds of others to freedom. She was en route to join John Brown at Harpers Ferry and assist in his plan for armed insurrection at the time that his actions were thwarted. Some failed while others succeeded, but there were never ending efforts to escape and resist what was one of America’s greatest evils.
During black history month the exploits of Harriet Tubman and other well known persons are remembered and celebrated, but in general, slavery is swept under the rug, and the descendants of those held in bondage are left with little information or, worse yet, shame about their ancestors. They don’t know that Wall Street functioned as a slave market, that all of the monuments in the nation’s capital, from the White House to the Washington Monument, were built by slave labor. The Second Amendment was a tool to insure that every white person could help enforce slavery, and the nation’s capital moved further and further south, from New York to Philadelphia to a city created on a swamp, to insure that slave holding power had physical control of the government.
That is the story which modern Americans ought to know. Controversies about movies make for good copy, but the ignorance about how slavery shaped this country’s history and the lengths that men and women endured to end it are sadly still hidden.
Margaret Kimberley's Freedom Rider column appears weekly in BAR, and is widely reprinted elsewhere. She maintains a frequently updated blog as well as at http://freedomrider.blogspot.com.Ms. Kimberley lives in New York City, and can be reached via e-Mail at Margaret.Kimberley(at)BlackAgendaReport.com.