The Animal Other Represented in Photography: Comparative Research of the Animal and the Human...

Lauralouise Hendrix Student registration number: 0974854 [email protected] Master thesis Master Film and Photographic Studies Leiden University september 2012

The Animal Other Represented in Photography:

Comparative Research of the Animal and the Human Subject as Other

Supervisor: Dr. H.F. (Helen) Westgeest

Second reader:

Dhr. B. (Bas) Vroege

The Animal Other Represented in Photography: Comparative Research of the Animal and the Human Subject as Other 2

Lauralouise Hendrix, Master Thesis Film and Photographic Studies

Table of Contents

Introduction 3

Chapter 1: A Case Study From Early Photography: The Animal as Other Compared to Human Other as Dead. 10

1.1. Putting Drama In Diorama: The Animal Subject In Early Photography 11 1.1.1. Decoding Llewelynʼs representations of nature 14 1.1.2. Interpetation and temporality 17

1.2. Differentiating Photographic Death 18 1.2.1. Appearences of Post-Mortem photography 18 1.2.2. Three-dimensional representation and Photography 22

1.3. The dead animal and the dead human in early photography 27

Chapter 2: A Case Study From Wildlife Photography: The Animal as Other Compared to the Human Other as Cultural Other. 30

2.1. Hunting Photographers? 33 2.1.1. Hunting With The Camera 37 2.1.2. Point, Aim and Shoot 41

2.2. The Human Subject as Other in Colonial Photography 44 2.2.1. Colonial Photography as Conveyer of Truth 47 2.2.2. The Constructed Human Other and the Animal 50

2.3. Wildlife Photography as Colonial Photography. 53

Chapter 3: A Case Study From Documentary Photography: the Animal as Other Compared to the Human Other as Object of Voyeurism 55

3.1. Looking at Animals in the Zoo 58 3.1.1. Obvious Voyeurism in the Zoo 58 3.1.2. Unavoidable Voyeurism in the Zoo 60

3.2. Looking at Looking at Animals in the Zoo 64 3.2.1. Winograndʼs Photograph as Representing Itself 67 3.2.2. Winograndʼs Photograph as Generically Self Referential 70

3.3. Looking at an Exotic Dancer and Looking at that Act 72 3.3.1. The Difference That Makes a Difference 73 3.3.2. Privacy and Consent 74 3.3.3. Interchangeability 75

3.4. Voyeurism as Inevitabilaty 79

Conclusion 82

Illustrations 85

Bibliography 93

Endnotes 98



Introduction

The earliest known images already have among them representations of

animals. In most prehistoric paintings in caves animals were represented, and one of

the first materials used to make these images was animal blood (Berger, p. 253).

Before photography, the animal subject had in common with the human subject, that

its representations were always mediated, and were based on a variety of direct

observation, memory, written descriptions, earlier representations and hear-say. This

resulted in an ʻinescapable subjectivityʼ that casted a ʻshadow of a doubtʼ over every

image according to film-critic André Bazin in his description of proto-photographic

images in “The Ontology of the Photographic Image” (Bazin, p. 6). A rather famous

example of how subjectivity was pivotal in the creation of a picture of an animal and

was influential for subsequential imagery depicting that same subject, can be found

in E.H. Gombrichʼs “Truth and the Stereotype: an Illusion Theory of Representation”

in Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation (1960). It

concerns a woodcut made in 1515 by Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528) which depicts a

Rhinoceros (fig. 1 ). For us, as present-day viewers it is immediately clear that this

animal is not a ʻtruthfulʼ rendering of the majestic African colossus that we have

come to know; yet most of us only know this animal through photographs and nature

documentaries. Dürer based his rhinoceros on a single sketch that had been made

in Lisbon, based on an actual, yet deceased species. It was sent to a merchant in

Nuremberg and was obtained there by Dürer (Luz, p. 96). According to Gombrich,

Dürer filled in the blanks in his knowledge about the animal with his own imagination,

he even goes so far as to say that Dürer based his rhinoceros on his supposed

knowledge of “…the most famous of exotic beasts, the dragon whit its armored body



(Gombrich, p. 79).” Whether or not this is the case is open to speculation, it is

however evident that Dürerʼs woodcut has served as the basis for the representation

of the rhinoceros in western imagery up to the beginning of the eighteenth century

(Gombrich, p. 80 - Luz, p. 96) (fig. 2). What Gombrich is trying to say with this

anecdote is that in image-making, preconceived ideas, existing imagery and

expectation are the main pillars on which the ultimate image is built. In Dürerʼs case

the original subject was never seen, but even in cases when the subject is available

the image is mainly guided and influenced by the aforementioned notions (Gombrich,

p. 61). Gombrich is in this text mainly referencing to painting and drawing, however,

as we shall see, this ambiguity he speaks of, that exists in imagery representing

reality, between observation and premeditation, does not disappear with the

introduction of the objective medium that photography supposedly would be when it

was first introduced, especially when it concerns the animal subject.

Animals have been photographed since the invention of the photographic

medium, and the huge presence of animals as a subject in contemporary

photography cannot be denied. However, the attention given to the animal subject in

photographic theory comes across as inversely proportionate (Grady and Mechling,

p. 92, Burt, p. 293) The animal subject, when not ignored completely, is only slightly

touched upon or used as an illustration, or classified with either the human subject or

with lifeless objects, in the bulk of theoretic texts that appeared after two publications

that were highly influential in the field of photographic theory and jump-started

postmodern discussions on photography: Susan Sontagʼs On Photography (1977)

and Roland Barthesʼ Le Chambre Claire (1977).1 These texts focus on the

functioning and relevance of the medium for and in human society. The social impact

of the photographic act and medium on humans is discussed, whereas the animal



subject is only addressed upon when discussing wildlife photography and/or

environmental issues. Matthew Brower argues that the neglect of the animal subject

in photography “… was a key part of the foundation of aesthetic modernism [which

regards]…animal imagery as sentimental, reactionary and nostalgic (Brower, p. xxi).”

The animal subject in art-history focussing on other media like painting and drawing

is represented, analyzing the animals as symbol or metaphor and through issues

dealing with anthropomorphism. These theories however can only partly be applied

within photographic theory since, opposed to other visual media, the actual presence

of an animal is always needed for a photograph, it actually ʻhad to be thereʼ in that

specific situation when the photograph was made. Art-historian John Berger for

example, did deal with the act of looking at animals and their visibility in human

culture in his highly influential text: “Why Look At Animals?” (1980). Berger, however,

only once mentions photography and does not analyze the animal subject

specifically when it concerns its representation in photography, nor its differences or

similarities to the human subject in this aspect (Berger, p. 257). Berger does offer a

hint, by positioning the animal subject in a theoretical halfway point, to why

examining the animal subject in photography could be of interest : “Animals are born,

are sentient, and are mortal. In these things they resemble men. In their superficial

anatomy…in their habits, in their time, in their physical capacities, they differ from

man. They are both like and unlike (Berger, p. 252).” This indicates that although

they share characteristics with humans, they also differ from them and it can be

argued that due to the innate characteristics of an animal its position in photographic

history is well suited for, and deserves evaluation and research in order to discover

how the animal subject in photography can be compared to the human subject that

usually is the focus of photographic theory.



The characteristics attributed to the medium of photography, mainly its

supposed capacity for unmediated representation, made that soon after its inception

“…photography came to establish and delimit the terrain of the other…” (Sekula

(1990), p. 345). ʻothernessʼ or ʻthe other in photography have been researched

thoroughly. “The concept of the other…is used in feminist, psychoanalytic theory to

indicate that men construct women as ʻthe otherʼ; that is, as an opposite, in reaction

to which their own maleness can be defined (Wells, p.70).” The theoretical concept

of the other in photograph theory is used in order to explain how photography

functions as an agent in defining identity, mainly for the ones that employe it.

Usually there exists an opposition between photographer and photographed that is

unequal. The photographer, and the social class he represents, is thought to have

some sort of power over the photographed subject and through the photographic

medium he establishes and strengthens, or creates this power. “It has frequently

been argued that photography has been used as a way of consuming the world in a

manner that gives power over it; a way that allows us to discipline and naturalize

what might otherwise seem strange and frightening (Wells, p. 71).” The animal

subject could be regarded as just one example of otherness, next to woman,

indigenous peoples, children and the working class, for example. However the way

in how this otherness is defined varies from genre to genre. There is no such thing

as a singular ʻanimal otherʼ. In different uses of photography the animal appears in

different ways, for different reasons. Comparing these appearances with research

into human others may define various forms of the animal as other, with different

functions and uses accordingly. Just like photography itself is not explained through

one theory or is situated in one discourse, animal photography is neither. W.J.T.

Mitchell in “Looking at Animals Looking” in Picture Theory (1994) has noted this



variation in animal otherness: “Animals stand for all forms of social otherness: race,

class, and gender are frequently figured in images of subhuman brutishness, bestial

appetite, and mechanical servility.” (Mitchell, p. 333). His work deals with images in

general, whereas my research will focus on the peculiarities of the animal other in

photography. Clive Scott underscores in The Spoken Image: Language and

Photography (1999) that “…although painting and photography share the same

genres, the parameters of each are rather different. What photography has done, by

and large, is to use its indexical dimension and its technology to increase generical

ranges, or the number of species within the genre (Scott, p. 40).” Scott subsequently

offers examples of this increasing of genres because of the use of photography,

concerning nudes and portraiture, but when the animal subject is concerned, the

genre of animal photography, arguably, is divided, or even can be considered as

non-existent, since many different sub-genres representing the animal subject can

be discerned in photography that al have their specific functions and uses,

dependent on where and how the animal subject was photographed.

In three chapters, three case studies researching specific appearances of the

animal subject in different genres will try to differentiate forms of the animal as other.

Through examining ʻa human otherʼ that can be found in these or related genres a

comparison will be made exposing the differences and similarities in how these

others are represented. The chapters will be built around the following research

question, adapted to the different genres treated in each: When accepting the notion

of the impossibility of ontology of animal photography, in what way then is the animal

subject as other represented in various photographic genres? How and to which

representation of the human other are these appearances of the animal as other

related regarding representation and function?



In the first chapter a case study from early photography will focus on the

animal as other compared to human other as dead. How is the animal subject

represented in proto-instantanious photography in two photographs by John Dillwyn

Llewelyn, and how does this representation relate to the representation of the dead

human being in nineteenth century post-mortem photography? The second chapter

will deal with a case study from wildlife photography. The animal as ʻwildʼ other in

wildlife photography will be compared to the human other as cultural other. We will

examine how the animal subject is represented in George Shirazʼs publication

“Hunting With the Camera” in the July 1906 issue of National Geographic Magazine.

Subsequently I will examine how this representation relates to the representation of

indigenous peoples in colonial photography and the function of these photographs.

The third chapter will feature a case study from documentary photography that

shows the animal as objectified other while it is being observed by humans and will

be compared to the human other as object of voyeurism, depicted as such in

photography. The photograph that will be discussed stems from Gary Winograndʼs

book The Animals (1962) and is not a photo that exclusively shows an animal

subject, but combines it with a human subject that observes it. How does this

representation relate to the representation of the secretly observed human subject:

the human other as object of voyeurism in photography? Could the function of these

photographs be compared?

These three case studies, that are seemingly rather arbitrary in their selection,

do contain a progressional development. The first chapter deals with the dead

animal subject, compared to the dead human subject, which are more similar to each

other than to the live human subject because of their dead state. In a way they

constitute an ultimate obvious other; the dead animal other and the dead human



other are both, so to speak, outside the realm of the living. Although focussed on

occurrences of these others in nineteenth century photography, the dead state is an

eternal one that exists outside of time itself, further constituting its otherness. In the

second chapter the wild animal, and the human cultural other are examined,

although alive, these two examples of otherness are still situated outside of western

society, and are very clearly bound to their temporal position, and are only

recognisable in contemporary society as pastiches of their first appearances. Since

western society provides us with a lot of theoretical reflections on photography and

otherness, the animal and human other in this chapter can still be analyzed from a

theoretical distance. In the last chapter we will examine the animal and human other

within the western world itself. The example of the Zoo animal and the exotic dancer

in this chapter are inhabitants of the world we ourselves exist in, not only physically

but also temporarily. The photographs that are discussed might be taken in the

nineteen-sixties and nineteen-seventies, the situations they depict and the way the

subjects are photographed are not exclusive for those eraʼs. The others examined in

this chapter are existent in the same society we are currently in. Through this

analyses that gradually positions ʻthe animal otherʼ from ʻobvious historical otherʼ, to

ʻan example of ʻotherness that is existent alongside usʼ, I try to provide some new

insights into the animal subject in photography.



Chapter 1:

A Case Study From Early Photography:

The Animal as Other Compared To Human Other as Dead

The year 1839 is what the world generally sees at the inception date for the

medium we now know as photography. The western world rather hastily concluded

that it was now possible to make “unmediated” representations, attributing the new

medium a pivotal importance in the delivering research material and proof, for art,

science and political and social purposes, because of its apparent possibility to

translate the natural world into representations without being influenced by the hand

of an artist. And although this view of photography as conveyer of absolute truth has

been rejected long since, even from a 1839 perspective is was not a maintainable

idea. Almost four more decades were needed for photography to actually fulfill the

need for this supposed direct “unmediated” representation. The photographic

medium only in the late 1870ʼs became capable of producing an image in a split

second, registering the thing before the lens as it appeared in that instance. Until that

time especially the animal subject proved to be a complex subject for the juvenile

medium due to characteristics that differs it from, as well humans and non living

objects. This does not mean however that the animal subject was not present during

photographyʼs infant years. The following will try to elaborate on how the animal

subject differs from other subjects represented in proto-instantanious photography

and how this relates to the photographic medium as a representational medium.

Mathew Browerʼs “A Red Herring” in Developing animals (2011) provides insight

onto how and for which uses animals were depicted in photography. It will be made



clear that the animal subject represented in proto-instantanious photography in many

occasions was actually dead. Two photographs by George E. Llewellyn will be

examined that supposedly depict animals within their natural environment, but

actually they depict taxidermically prepared animals. The taxidermically prepared

animal as three-dimensional representation of an animal, is compared to three-

dimensional representations of humans, and the peculiarities that arise when they

are photographed. Film Historian Andre Bazinʼs views on photography as

representational medium, and its forerunners, The ontology of Photograph (1960)

are used to discuss this. The connection between death, representation and

photography is used to compare Llewelynʼs photography with a genre of

photography that was common in the same era: the post-mortem photograph. Within

nineteenth century post-mortem photography, three main variations can be

discerned. Photographyʼs innate relationship to death has been described by,

amongst others, Susan Sontag. Photography seems to be inextricably linked to

death because of the representational capabilities of the medium and their influence

on the supposed livelihood of the subject depicted. Can the dead animal subject in

proto-instantaneous photography be compared with the dead human subject, which

implications for them being photographed are similar and were do these differ? How

are the singular characteristics regarding representation in photography of influence

in how the dead animal subject and the dead human subject are depicted?

1.1. Putting Drama In Diorama: The Animal Subject In Early Photography

The “…neat slice of time, not a flow.” that Susan Sontag speaks of in On

Photography, was not a slice, but rather quite a large chunk of time in early



photography (Sontag, p. 17). The instantaneity that a modern audience associates

with the medium only became possible in the late seventies of the nineteenth

century. From a scientific perspective this development was an inevitable one no

doubt, since technical developments in photography from its inception on, were,

amongst other goals, aimed reducing the necessary exposure time to produce a

photograph. The animal subject can give us some insight in the consequences for

photographyʼs representational abilities being non-instantanious. The ultimate

photograph may not show the average viewer if it needed an exposure-time of 10

minutes or a split second. A photograph is a static image that, when is does not

contain blurriness caused by movement of the subject during the exposure time,

does not contain any indications of the exposure time that was needed for its

production. However how photography in general as a conveyer of information is

perceived is influenced by the technical possibilities the medium as a whole has at

that moment. The complete canon of photographs produced in a certain period, and

the state of the photographic medium they are produced, co-determine how a single

photograph is analyzed and understood. This means that a single photograph from

the proto-instantanious era may not contain any formal indications that it needed an

exposure time exceeding an instance, the knowledge that it came from that period

defines how we analyze what it depicts.

Due to the long exposure times needed in early photographic techniques, it

was absolutely imperative that the object that was to be photographed maintained

motionless for the duration of the exposure. This naturally did not prove to be a

problem with lifeless objects, as a well as with most flora, on the condition that these

subjects did not move due to external causes and that there was enough light

available in the first place. Human beings, alive and being able of movement, could



be instructed not to move and were aided in this by a variety of props in the photo-

studio. These supporting props ranged from conveniently placed seats, pillars and

other people, to aids especially designed for this purpose like neck-supports

(Brower, p. 26).

The animal subject is neither lifeless nor motionless but lacks the ability to be

communicated with in a manner that is comparable to the way humans do and

consequently cannot be instructed the same way a human can be instructed. This

causes the animal subject to a particular problematic one to capture for early

photographers. Mathew Brower in Developing Animals (2011) has examined the

appearance of the animal subject in proto-instantanious photography. According to

Brower, the animal subject present in roughly the first 40 years of photographyʼs

existence was either domesticated, trained or forced to stand still, asleep or dead

(Brower, p. 6). In the image of a trained domestic small dog positioned onto two

chairs to enable it to maintain still for the duration needed for the exposure we can

see how inventive the ways to photograph live animals could be (fig. 3).

However, this hiatus in photographic ability cannot be found within the general

attitude towards the photographic medium and the belief in its ability to represent

nature at the time. Photography pioneer Henry Fox Talbot describes the then newly

introduced photographic medium, because of his belief in photographyʼs proof

function, as being capable of delivering understandings of the “true law of nature”

(Talbot as quoted in Van Gelder and Westgeest, p. 19). This belief in the scientific

objectiveness and the subsequent aptitude of photography for delivering (scientific)

evidence and representations of nature, is shared by many early champions, like

Dominique Francois Arago (Trachtenberg, p. 15), as well as critics, like Charles

Baudelaire, (Trachtenberg, p. 83) of photography. Paradoxically a large part of that



very nature, the fauna, could not be registered due to long exposure times, during

most of their natural behaviour besides being dead or asleep. What are we looking at

then in some photographs by botanist, pioneer photographer and acquaintance of

Talbot, John Dillwyn Llewellyn (1810-1882), that are both estimated to be made in

the eighteen-fities (figs. 4 and 5)

1.1.1. Decoding Llewelyn’s Representations of Nature

The first photograph seems to picture a duck on a patch of land along a small

pond or creek (fig. 4). Besides from the overly white background, the scene appears

to be a normal natural one. The white background could have been caused by the

fact that the exposure time needed to make the foreground sufficiently visible in

photographs sometimes caused for the sky, which exudes more light, to turn out as

white areas on the ultimate photograph due to overexposure. Also the fact that the

colour blue was not picked up very well by early photographic techniques could have

been the cause of this. It is highly unlikely though that the duck would have

maintained standing there as long as the required exposure time would have been

for realizing this photograph. Unlikely, maybe, but not entirely impossible, since birds

can be seen standing still in the wild for longer periods of time sometimes, a walk in

the park will show you as much. Furthermore the fact that this photograph is from the

eighteen-fities is only apparent to us, because of the information provided from the

imageʼs source and because we might recognize some formal aspects of the

photograph as object - the oval frame, the size of the photograph - as being from that

period, which are due to the used calotype technique. This could be applied by a

photographer in any other time after the calotypeʼs invention, and in this way is not a

definite temporal indicator. The scene displayed however does not cary any temporal

“markers within the image restricting it to any historical period” and therefore ʻ“like



any wildlife photograph, has a timeless quality that makes it appear contemporary”

according to Brower (Brower, p. 3). Brower here equals timelessness with

contemporary, but one could argue that when the time of a photographʼs production

cannot be determined, if it indeed automatically appears contemporary. The scene

depicted on the photograph however, due to the fact that no traces of human culture

are visible within the image, could be considered timeless since we see the image as

depiction of nature, which it is generally seen as (besides evolutionary changes over

millions of years) static.

The second photograph shows us an otter in a what seems to be an attentive

position, as if caught amidst his stroll along the riverbank (fig. 5). The idea that the

otter maintained still long enough in this particular position is downright

unimaginable, opposed to ducks, an otter is a very shy and highly motive animal.

The white spots in the background in this photograph are furthermore so large in size

that that the overexposure theory cannot account for them and it is no longer

realistically conceivable that this photograph is taken outside. In fact, this

photograph, as well as the duck photograph were indeed taken inside the studio.

The otter as well as the duck are actually both dead, prepared in a lifelike pose by a

taxidermist. (Brower, p. 8)

The use of stuffed animals in order to create photographs showing nature-like

scenes was common practice in early photography (Lanyon, p. 168). When

observing the duck and the otter in both photographs again with this knowledge, the

animals indeed seem to have a certain awkwardness in their poses. The duckʼs only

visible foot, for example, is standing too far behind to evenly support his bodyweight.

The otterʼs left front foot seems to be placed on a stone that is positioned there for

that reason alone. The nature the otter stands in seems to have been adapted to the



rigid body of the stuffed specimen. These are just a few of the unwieldy details a

contemporary viewer can discover when examining the duck and the otter. However,

the Victorian audience that probably first saw these photographs would not have

been able to look at the photographs in the same way we can (Brower, p6). As

mentioned before, it was impossible to realize a photograph of an animal in action,

so nobody at the time would have known how a single isolated moment within the

movement of an animal would have looked like. Furthermore, the use of dead

animals, stuffed or not, as model for the depiction of animals in art was general

practice, also before the introduction of photography. Consequently it did not strike a

nineteenth century audience as odd that a dead animal was used to substitute for a

live one in order to create a truthful image of nature (Brower, p. 7).

The words ʻcreateʼ and ʻtruthfulʼ are important here, since together they

highlight the, now notorious paradox within photography. As mentioned before

photography at the time of its introduction was heralded as a producer of images that

could function as proof, being constructed by nature alone without the subjective

intervention of a human. But, particularly in the first 40 years that photography

existed, every photographic image had to be pre-meditated and its contents

preselected and staged. The photographs of stuffed animals did not work as

unrealistic or false to the general public at that time not only because photography

was introduced, and consequently seen, as a truthful way of representing nature.

More importantly maybe, the images created with this new ʻobjectiveʼ technique,

content-wise and formally, were precisely what was expected . The ideas and visions

concerning nature already present in art, science and literature were used in order to

create the photographic representations of nature and the animals in it. The first

photographs were not naturally given, but were heavily influenced by how images



were made and constructed before the invention of photography (Van Gelder and

Westgeest, p. 21). The assumed truthfulness and believability of photography was

not based on what was represented but on how this representation was achieved

(Bazin, p. 6). Joel Snyder and Neil Walsh Allen explain in their essay: Photography,

vision and representation (1975) that “…The photographic image is a crafted object

rather than a natural thing…it is crafted in accordance with…ʼnaturalʼ laws…”, they

further argue that although it is quit logical and expected that “something” in front of

the lens can be seen on the eventual photograph, the way how this exactly happens

is “is neither natural nor necessary (Sneyder and Allen, p. 151).”

1.1.2. Interpetation and Temporality

The paradox of the intensely premeditated, staged and created photographic

image that was accepted as objective representation was existent in all early

photography. The specific problems concerning representation, communication,

exposure time and movement might not be confined to, but are very apparent with

the animal subject and in this way can clarify this paradox to contemporary viewers

accustomed to a photographic medium that is in no way comparable with its

nineteenth century predecessor. The fact that for a contemporary public Dillwyn

Llewellynʼs photographs almost instantaneously come across as as awkward is due

to the fact of our knowledge of how a living photographed animal looks like. It seems

inconceivable to a modern day public that people at the time were not capable to

appreciate these photographs as we do. Although the aforementioned is applicable

for all photography from the proto-instantanious era, photographs showing animals

were arguable even more difficult to decipher as staged realities. Recognizing death

in the same species (humans) seems to be an easier task when compared to death

animals. In what follows the different ways of portraying death in the proto-



instantanious era and how the animal subject relates to the human one in these, is

elaborated upon.

1.2. Differentiating Photographic Death

The two photographs by John Dillwyn Llewellyn earlier discussed, appear to

show scenes of living animals in their natural habitat at first sight. Yet, we have

established that the animals portrayed are in fact dead and the surroundings are

most probably constructed inside a studio. The practice of positioning dead bodies in

a staged situation in order to evoke a situation were death seems no longer apparent

is reminiscent of one form of photographic practice that was common during proto-

instantaneous photography: post-mortem photography (Wells, pp. 243 − 244).

Although somewhat different in intention and use, the readability of stuffed animal

photography and post-mortem photography as well as their position and role in

photography history bear some resemblances.

1.2.1. Appearences of Post-Mortem Photography

When looking at post-mortem photography from the mid nineteenth century

three separate forms can be identified: First, there exist photographs that show the

dead people as indeed, dead. Showing the deceased in a setting that is permeated

with objects and props that are undeniably linked with death in western human

culture, like a coffin, intricate (white) flower pieces and religious symbols like for

example crucifixes (fig. 6). This form seems to be the most acknowledging of the

dead state and can be seen as the use of photography for registering a state or

occurrence in order to commemorate and preserve the moment, That Liz Wells in



Photography: a critical introduction (2000) describes as: “…the significance of corpse

photography was to preserve likeness… (Wells, p. 244).” But note, the moment

which is acknowledged, is the one in which death already is inescapable and firmly

grounded or even accepted in the premeditation that preceded the creation of the

photograph. Although one could argue that with its deliberate placement of a corpse

amongst symbolic objects this form is reminiscent of still life painting featuring dead

animals, like hunting trophies, this specific appearance of the dead human body in

photography will not be further elaborated upon here. This form of post-mortem

photography was made well into the twentieth century in the western world and still

is used today in some countries as a way to immortalize lost loved ones (Wells, p.

244).

The second identifiable form can be found in photographs in which the

deceased seems asleep; stressing the similarities between the state of sleep and the

state of death. In the staging of this sort of post-mortem there is nothing, besides the

sleep-like position, and often the positioning of the corps in a bed and the clothing

that indicates that the subject is alive, however, more importantly, nothing also

indicates that the subject is actually dead. Dead is not acknowledged as having

occurred. In the photograph of an apparently sleeping girl (fig. 7), no cultural

indicators suggesting death can be seen, however the clothes the girl is wearing are

not every day apparel, but it is as a sleeping gown, that does indicate in a way, that

she is no longer in the day-to-day reality. She is positioned in a way nevertheless

that suggests she has fallen asleep like this.

This type of post-mortem photography accentuates a very peculiar, and much

described, by for example Siegfried Kracauer, Susan Sontag, Georgio Agamben,

and Roland Barthes, characteristic of photography (Thomas, p. 421); its ʻpowerʼ to



make dead beings appear alive, or rather the fact that death cannot be differentiated

from sleep in photography, since the factor of time is eliminated. Roland Barthes in

Camera Lucida explains this by comparing photography to cinema:

“…in the photograph, something has posed in front of the tiny hole and has

remained there forever…; but in cinema, something has passed in from of this same

tiny hole: the pose is swept away and denied by the continuous series of images…In

photography, the presence of a thing…is never metaphoric; and in the case of

animated beings, their life as well, except in the case of photographing corpses, and

even so: if the photograph then becomes horrible, it is because it certifies, so to

speak, that the corpse is alive, as corpse: it is the living image of a dead thing. For

photographyʼs immobility is somehow the result of a perverse confusion between two

concepts: the Real and the Live: by attesting that the object has been real, the

photograph surreptitiously induces belief that it is alive, because of that delusion

which makes us attribute to Reality and an absolutely superior, somehow eternal

value; but by shifting this reality to the past (ʻthis-has-beenʼ), the photograph suggest

that it is already dead (Barthes p 78).”2

Being a momentary registration of the dead corps, the inevitable decay that a

dead corps will undergo is not visible and therefore banished from the proposed

ʻeternityʼ of the photograph. This is even true for photography from the proto-

instantanious era, since the decay of a dead being is seldom as fast that it

outspeeds even the longest necessary exposure times. Comparable imagery

depicting animal subjects seems harder to find, presumably the death state of an

animal was simply accepted for its relation to the human is not as intense or

personal as in the instance of a human death. When dead animals were

photographed, they were often taxidermically prepared and positioned in a lifelike



situation. This brings us to the final form of photography featuring a death human

subject, the form in which the dead body is placed in a situation that is constructed to

suggest that death never occurred.

Geoffrey Batchen in Burning With Desire : The Conception Of Photography

makes an interesting observation about proto-instantanious photography:

“…photography insisted that if one wanted to appear life-like, one first had to act if

dead (Batchen (1997), p. 208).” This means that if one was actually dead, one could

also look lifelike when photographed. However awkward Llewellynʼs images might

seem to us, the fact that an animal body is positioned in a way that seems lifelike

may not strike us as lugubrious as when the same practice is administered upon a

human body, this is however, exactly what can be seen in some post-mortem

images from the third discernible category. In an attempt to accentuate the corpseʼs

lifelikeness, the deceased might even be posed next to a living subject, like with the

brother “standing” next to his sister, who is, quite conveniently also functioning as a

support for his immobile body (fig. 8). Another way of making the corpse seem “alive”

was by painting “eyes” on the closed eyelids. In the picture of a dead women where

this practice is applied (fig. 9), the lifelikeness of the positioned ensemble is further

enhanced by letting the dead woman hold a book, suggesting that she only just

closed it before staring into the camera. From what we can see, the body in this

photograph is probably laying on a bed of some sort, but since the photograph is

taken from such a standpoint that the woman is shown, staring us in the eye, she

appears lifelike, no matter in what way we look at the photograph. Opposed to this,

the photograph from the first category, that depicts the dead corpse as actually dead,

was composed in such a way, that its subject is always clearly dead (fig. 6). We

cannot approach the photograph in another way to obtain the same face-to-face view



we have with the women. The framing by and the standpoint of the photographer

fixate the corpse in a way that also adds to the lifelikeness of the woman in fig. 9 and

to the accentuation of the dead state in fig. 6.

1.2.2. Three-dimensional Representation and Photography

However eery these images may seem, they are in accordance with the drive

that fueled the invention of photography and therefore the practice is not as

surprising as it seems to be, when assuming that photography is a form of

representation that stems from a long history in image and sculpture making as

Andre Bazin proposes in The Ontology of the Photographic Image (1960). As

discussed earlier, Andre Bazin, described humankind's need for representation of

the body as a way to preserve the dead body in order to make its memory last, first

mainly driven by religious believes, later as an answer to a more general desire to

commemorate. He describes the Egyptian practice of mummification as follows: “The

religion of ancient Egypt, aimed against death, saw survival as depending on the

continued existence of the corporeal body. Thus, by providing a defense against the

passage of time it satisfied a basic psychological need in man, for death is but the

victory of time...It was natural, therefore, to keep up appearances in the face of the

reality of death by preserving flesh and bone. The first Egyptian statue, then, was a

mummy…(Bazin, p. 4).” No need to say there exists a difference between statues

and photographs, however their function in achieving a durable believable

representation, or even substitute, of a body is comparable. Van Gelder and

Westgeest in discussing Hiroshi Sugimotoʼs work: The Music Lesson (1999) state:

“Sugimotoʼs image [The music Lesson] addresses the deeply rooted psychological

human need for making images that preserve human beings from eternal oblivion. It

is common knowledge that in order to satisfy that need, wax figures were



photographyʼs most important three-dimensional forerunners (Strecks 2006) The

wax figures possesses the particular characteristics of an almost superhuman

realism, having an impact on the viewer that the figure is almost felt to be alive

(again) ( Van Gelder and Westgeest, p. 22).” Van Gelder and Westgeest continue in

describing Sugimotoʼs work, noticing that the two-dimensional format of the

photograph further is of influence in how we perceive the scene, in which they also

note a parallel between nature dioramas.

In that aspect it is interesting for us to look at an another example from

Sugimotoʼs work: Hyaena - jackal - Vulture (1975) that seems to depict a very

believable scene that probably is set in the African Savannah (fig 10). The

photographs stem from a series of works named Dioramas, Sugimoto himself, when

referring to these works, notes the authenticity photography is able to attribute to an

artificial scene: “Upon first arriving in New York in 1974, I did the tourist thing.

Eventually I visited the Natural History Museum, where I made a curious discovery:

the stuffed animals positioned before painted backdrops looked utterly fake, yet by

taking a quick peek with one eye closed, all perspective vanished, and suddenly they

looked very real. I'd found a way to see the world as a camera does. However fake

the subject, once photographed, it's as good as real (Hiroshi Sugimoto on his

website).”3 This reality comes from both the ʻflatnessʼ and the absence of time in

photography - a diorama can be viewed upon for a longer time, be walked around in

front of, so that it can be made out as being a representation. In Llewellynʼs

photographs this aspect of photography is used in order for the public to perceive the

images as real nature scenes, using photographyʼs transparency to elevate the

artificial to the real. Sugimoto, however, partly by naming the series Dioramas and

herewith emphasizing the original artificial status of what is depicted, actually



accentuates this aspect of photography, commenting on, and therewith making us

aware of photographyʼs ability for deception. Victor Burgin in “Photographic Practice

and Art Theory” in Thinking Photography (1982), actually attributes the verifying

nature of photography to an incompleteness in the way it reproduces something: “In

an ingenuous assumption the photograph is held to reproduce its object. However,

the relationship between a photographic image and its referent is one of reproduction

only to the extent that Christopher Wren's death-mask reproduces Christopher Wren.

The photograph abstracts from, and mediates, the actual. For example, a

photograph of three people grouped together may, in reality, have comprised a live

model, a two-dimensional 'cut-out' figure, and a wax dummy. In the actual presence

of such an assembly I would quickly know them for what they were. No such

certainty accompanies my cognition of the photographic group (Burgin, p. 61).” It

may sound contradictory that photographyʼs deficit in its reproducible capabilities

enables a more realistic photograph, but by eliminating, not by choice but as

inevitable side effect, certain aspects in the photographic process, like time,

movement, smell, sound and three-dimensional viewing, photography actually

renders objects that differ from each other when observed direct to similar objects

when they are viewed through a photograph.

The Notion that a wax figure was an important three-dimensional forerunner of

photography is an interesting one. Although we are quit accustomed to the idea of

animal taxidermy, doing the same thing to a human body does not seem to settle

quite as well with the general public, a feeling comparable to the awkwardness one

can feels when looking at post-mortem photographs featuring dead human bodies,

positioned as if they were still alive. However before the nineteenth century the

distinction between the preparation of a human body or an animal body was not that



definite. Reminiscent of Bazinʼs view upon Egytian mummyʼs as statue a rather

notable idea of the social theorist and advocate of utilitarianism, Jeremy Bentham

(1748-1832) comes to mind. Bentham after his death requested his body would be

turned into, what he named, an ʻauto-iconʼ, arguing that these figures “figures made

out of the very bones of the deceased, would in time supersede the necessity for

sculpture (Llewellyn, p. 53).” Indeed Benthamʼs body was preserved in the way he

requested and is still on display today at University College London. The head on

this figure however is a replica made of wax, since the original preserved head

started to look ʻdistastefulʼ.

Apart from the exact reasoning that Bentham had for requesting that his body

would be preserved in this way, which is a study on its own, his prediction that it

would make sculpture obsolete could be regarded as previsionary in a certain

aspect. The idea that the preservation of the actual body would be the ultimate

representation that could substitute for the deceived corpus was eventually not

granted in the sense that the auto-icon became the generally accepted way to do so.

Bentham died in 1832, seven years prior to the official introduction of the

photographic medium. He did not live to see how photography was able to capture

and immortalize the dead corpse, effacing and preventing any visible traces of

decay. The photographic medium arguably even superseded Benthamʼs goal

because of the fact that its final form is a two-dimensional flat one. Opposed to the

auto-icon, and taxidermically prepared animals, the photograph does not provide the

possibility to view upon the subject from multiple angles or to experience its static

presence for a longer time, in which it inevitably reveals itself as being dead.

The preparation of the human body in the way that Bentham proposed did not

become a mainstream practice, however taxidermy of animal bodies however



became very popular, even more so after the introduction of photography. Here the

difference between the human and animal subject is very striking. Whereas

photography rendered the preservation of the complete human body for purposes of

commemoration obsolete, the practice of preparing animal bodies did even increase

(Brower, p. 14). Post-mortem photography featuring the human body in all three

aforementioned categories became immensely popular in the nineteenth century.

The dead animal body however is mainly represented in the third category in which

the dead are being presented as alive. An explanation for this could be found in the

fact that the animal subject differed from objects and humans as priorly described,

exactly because of its similarities to both. Where the human body could be properly

photographed from the mediumʼs inception, establishing with the general public a

fairly accurate ideas on how the human body actually looked like, making a prepared

human body immediately apparent as an inferior replica instead of a truthful

representation, the live animal body could not be recorded as such. Early

taxidermically prepared animals therefore were not as clearly definable as

unrealistic, simply because a definite photographic registration of live specimens did

not yet exist. This, paradoxically explains for the rise in popularity of taxidermy, also

a young trade at the time of photographyʼs inception, which made as much use of the

developing medium as vice-versa. James R. Ryan states in “Hunting with the

camera”: Photography, Wildlife, and Colonialism in Africa (2000): “Early

photographers employed taxidermy in order to capture portraits of animals in a

seemingly live pose and outdoor setting…Just as photographers drew on the skill of

the taxidermist to overcome their cameraʼs technical shortcomings, taxidermists

drew in turn on the photographer to provide them with an appropriate model of

realism for their displays.” Ryan continues to explain the nineteenth century viewers



consent with the resulting imagery as: “[The poorly stuffed animal in early

photography] would have been unproblematic to nineteenth-century viewers because

[the poorly stuffed animal] would have been the model used to validate the success

of the image.” (Ryan, pp. 206-207) A similar view is expressed by Kitty Hauser;

according to Brower she argues that “…[the] indexical appropriation of the world

links both [photography and taxidermy] conceptually and structures their social

reception as evidence (as quoted in Brower, p. 14).” In addition to this, the

development of taxidermy was in line with the general augmenting development and

believe in science in the nineteenth century. Darwin introduced his evolution theory

supported by prepared actual specimens and photographs he brought along from his

global travels. But far more than solely being important in proving scientific

hypotheses, taxidermy, and photography showing taxidermically prepared animals,

were an important forerunner of instantaneous photography in validating and

establishing colonialism, which will be elaborated upon in chapter 2 (Ryan, p. 214).

1.3. The Dead Animal and the Dead Human in Early Photography

The animal subject in photography for the first forty years of the mediumʼs

existence was a singular one. They were however sufficiently represented

throughout this period, and apart from the occasional pet or farm animal, they were

usually dead. They were not always photographed as being dead, but, taxidermically

prepared, as being alive and active in a natural environment, as can be seen in the

images of George Llewellyn. These images were seen in a way as truthful

representations of nature, however nature as it was possible to perceive for a viewer

in the mid nineteenth century. The photographs, as those by Llewwelyn, were based,

more than on actual occurrences in nature, on a ready set of images and ideas about



the natural world already present in the collective minds of the public, preconceived

by images made with proto-photographic techniques.

As we have seen the dead body, human or animal, was often present as a

subject in early photography. With the human body, death was either acknowledged

completely by presenting the corpse as such, masked by presenting the body as

asleep or ignored by presenting the body in an “active” lifelike position. With the

animal body, the latter form of presentation was most common. With the difference

that when the human body was photographed as such, the photograph was taken

shortly after death had occurred, or at least before the inevitable decay of the body

has begun. With the animal body, this moment was preserved before the photograph

was taken by taxidermically preparing it. Here a remarkable difference between the

animal and the human body in photography becomes apparent. Photography made

the preservation of the human body, as it was suggested by Bentham, for

commemorating it and preserving its likeness, obsolete. The process of preserving

the body for these goals that, as Bazin suggested, started with the ancient Egyptians

and their practice of mummification, in a way found its ultimate form in photography.

With the animal body however, as Brower explains by quoting Hauser and Ryan,

photography did not render the preservation of their dead bodies obsolete, but

actually was an accelerator for the at that time burgeoning craft of Taxidermy.

Taxidermy of animals, opposed to preparing human bodies, became hugely

important in scientific research in the colonies. Ironically the habit of photographic

dead corpses, animal or human, expresses an utter powerlessness masked by the

fact that there exists total control over how the dead subject is portrayed.

Photography here is used to arrest a state over which we have no longer any

influence. The inevitable decay of the corps is excluded and ignored, and what stays



in the photograph is a momentary view upon something imaginary that already no

longer was at the time of the photographʼs creation; that of the subject being alive.

The photographic reality is reminiscent of the reality the subject may have been in,

but it is not an actual representation of that reality. However, the new reality is

accepted as the true one, or at least as a presentative of that.

When photography did became instantaneous it was exactly this convincing

power that made it utterly suitable for conveying information in a way that is desired

by its maker. This ʻpowerʼ so to speak, made photography an excellent tool for the

Western world in maintaining and reinforcing their colonial power. Photographs of

places and humans from exotic locations were made and distributed in nineteenth

century Europe to demonstrate the vastness and diversity of and control over the

empire.



Chapter 2:

A Case Study From Wildlife Photography:

The Animal As Other Compared To the Human Other As Cultural Other.

When thinking about animal photography, wildlife photography is maybe the

first thing that comes to mind for many. Photographs of lions, bears, and other

ferocious beasts amidst predatory action, exotic birds, dressed in the most

outrageous feather gowns enacting positively bizarre courting rituals, close-up shot

of cubs, chicks, calfs and various other fluffy adorable infant animals protected, fed

and caressed by a protective mother animal, are part of a collective visual memory

whereas the (wild) animal is concerned. These images are undeniably popular up

until today, not only as photographs but arguably even more so in their moving

counterpart, the wildlife movie, or documentary. (Brower, p. 27, Grady & Mechling, p.

93)

In the previous chapter, however, it became clear that the wild animal subject

is hard to find in photography during the first 40 years of its existence (Brower, p.

26). Photographs of live animals that were not domesticated, trained or asleep in this

period are extremely rare. From about 1880 onwards, however, photography

became instantaneous, and therefore capable of producing what we now know as

the snapshot, which made it possible to capture moving objects, humans, and also

animals amidst their activities while being alive (Brower, p. xvii). This means that the

wildlife photograph, that has arguably become synonymous with animal photography

for the general public, could not be created before instantaneous photography.



In what form, for what reasons and to which uses did the wild animals started

to appear in photography? To what form of photography portraying human subjects

is this depiction of the wild animal comparable, what are the differences and

similarities that arise when analyzed how they are both represented through

photography? These are very general and open questions and given the bulk of

wildlife images readily available created throughout instantaneous photographic

history probably impossible to answer as they are stated here. Although the

probability of singular ʻfirstʼ wildlife photograph is practically nil, given the fact that

photography already thoroughly permeated western society when it became

instantaneous, making the possibility that comparable photography simultaneously

appeared at multiple instances very probable, the idea of a one, first wildlife

photograph, could offer a possibility for a starting point in rethinking, adjusting, and

possibly partially answering the questions above.

When entering the words “first wildlife photograph” in internet search engine

Google, the first search result links to the website of National Geographic.4 Among

the image search results for the same keywords a certain photograph appears

several times; a black and white shot of three deer hanging in mid air that appear to

be fleeing the frame in different directions.

Upon following the link to the National Geographic website, we find that the

aforementioned photograph can be found there and is presented as a “milestone in

wildlife photography”.5 The reason for this photograph being a milestone appears to

be that it is part of the “First Wildlife Photos in National Geographic”. The photograph

is accompanied by the following text: “The July 1906 issue of National Geographic

featured its first ever wildlife photographs. Editor Gil Grosvenor printed 74 photos



snapped by U.S. Representative and early conservationist George Shiras, beginning

a long tradition of featuring wildlife photos in the magazine.”

The first section of this chapter analyzes this photograph, making use of

information retrieved from the direct contemporary context it is presented in by

National Geographic on its website and the original context in the 1906 publication of

National Geographic Magazine. Between these two environments there lies a period

of over century, which after comparison and close reading of the two contexts, lays

bare some interesting shifts in the ideas about the practice that we have come to

know as wildlife photography. This information will be used in the attempt to answer

the first part of the question proposed earlier in this introduction; In what form, for

what reasons and to which uses did the wild animals started to appear in

photography? As it will become clear, the vocabulary used in photography in

general up until today, shows many similarities with the vocabulary used in hunting;

an activity that in most cases involves animals and was thoroughly interlinked with

the early practice of photographing wild animals. Words like shoot and snapshot

seem direct descendants from the hunting vocabulary, but arguably are more in use

today when photography is concerned. An attempt will be made in researching to

what extend this linguistic connection between hunting and photography exists,

whether is it merely based on similarities in superficial action, or if the connection

goes deeper, and if there exists a causality in this connection. This part will make

use of texts by Matthew Brower and James R. Ryan in unraveling the origins of the

wildlife genre and will be completed with notes on the linguistic connection between

hunting and photography by Susan Sontag and Christian Metz.

In the second part of the chapter an attempt is made to answer establish to

what form of photography portraying human subjects the depiction of the wild animal



is comparable and what are the differences and similarities that arise when analyzed

how they are both represented through photography? Wildlife photography will be

compared with colonial photography, which shares characteristics in why, how and

where it was produced and published and in the effect it had on the public. These

similarities can be found in the affirmation of acts, that are in the present day and

age seen as unethical, being valorized by the photographic medium as necessary

and useful in the establishment of (national)identity. Both colonial and wildlife

photography are existent by virtue of the other, although since there appear to be

differences between the other as human or animal, it is analyzed how these

differences may have been influential in the aforementioned systems of affirmation,

valorization and transition. In examining these notions, literature on photography and

colonialism and the other will be drawn from texts by James R. Ryan, Liz Wells,

Anne Maxwell and Jennifer Tucker.

2.1. Hunting Photographers?

According to the text accompanying the photograph showing the three deers

on the National Geographic website, it was part of the first wildlife photographs in

National Geographic Magazine were published in the July publication in 1906. These

photographs were made by George Shiras 3rd (1859 – 1942), who is presented as

a politician and ”early conservationist”. This by no means makes them the first

wildlife photographs that ever existed, in his book Wildlife Films (2000), Derek Bousé

for example suggests that the first wildlife photograph, in his opinion, was a

photograph of penguins taken in 1872 (Bousé, p. 195), but the fact that they were

published in National Geographic is seen by the institution itself as a “Milestone in

wildlife photography”.6



When reading the article itself, in which the photographs are published, it

becomes already clear in the introduction, presumably written by the magazineʼs

editor at the time: Gil Grosvenor, that several images from the article, were already

on display as early as 1900, at the Paris world exhibition, which automatically

indicates that they must have been created in, or before that year.7 An exact date of

when they were indeed created is not given, in the introduction nor in the text written

by Shiras himself that accompanies the photographs. A remark is made, though,

referring an earlier article by Shiras from 1892 in Forest and Stream from which he

duplicated fragments into the National Geographic article (Shiras, p. 373), indicating

that Shiras was already practicing wildlife photography to an extent that seemed

worthy to publish about in that year. The introduction furthermore states that Shiras:

“…for twenty years has devoted his vacations to this fascinating recreation ” (Shiras,

p. 367) which indicates that Shiras started his photographic endeavors around 1886,

remarkably closer to the introduction of instantaneous photography than the date of

the articleʼs publication in National Geographic. Nevertheless the introduction states

that it is “The first time he [Shiras] has permitted their [the photographs in the article]

publication” which means that the photographs supposedly were themselves not

printed in the Forest and Stream article, and outside of the display in the exhibitions

mentioned in the introduction were not accessible to the general public. But

according to Matthew Brower in “Camera Hunting in America” in Developing Animals

(2011), the article in Forest and Stream certainly did feature photographs by Shiras,

and he claims that this was the first time indeed that photographs by Shiras were

published, indicating that these photographs must have been earlier examples from

Shirasʼ work (Brower, P. 46).



Up until now we have readily concurred with the assumption that this image

by Shiras is indeed a wildlife photograph, making it rather curious that in the whole

article Shiras does not use the term wildlife on its own or in combination with the

term photography. Instead, he describes his photographic practice as ʻhunting with

the cameraʼ (Shiras, p. 368), in fact, the whole article is an explanation on how he

uses hunting techniques in obtaining his images. The introduction goes so far as to

present Shiras as “…the originator of the sport of hunting wild game with the

camera”. The introduction furthermore states that the photographic “methods and

implements which he [Shiras] invented have been adopted throughout the world, and

have greatly simplified and popularized this branch of photography and sport.”

Although the term wildlife is not used, the introduction does mention that: “Mr Shiras

has made it a point never to photograph animals in parks or reservations, all of his

shooting being directed against game in the strictest sense wild.”8 This emphasis on

the animals depicted in the photographs being wild, however, was applied only

partially to accentuate the photographic capability that was needed to capture them,

but was of much more importance to underscore the competence of the

photographer as a hunter. “Much stress was also put on the quality and genuine

nature of the resulting photographs…insisting that they were authentic, first-hand

records revealing secrets which the eye of man had never before looked upon… the

first to show really wild animals in full freedom…that…photographs were ʻtrue to

natureʼ (Ryan, p. 215).” This fact was however always emphasized in combination

with the notion that the photographs were made by a skilled huntsman, that used

these skills to obtain the photographs. The animals being referred to as ʻwildʼ and

ʻtrue to natureʼ was not to underscore that how they are depicted is a representation

of that ʻwildnessʼ and natural behaviour, but to accentuate the difficulty in



approaching and finding them, and therewith the extraordinary skill, that was

involved in photographing them.

Both Brower in Developing Animals (2011) and Jonathan Burt in The

Illumination Of The Animal Kingdom: The Role Of Light And Electricity In Animal

Representation (2007 [2001]) claim that the desire to photograph animals amidst

movement was an accelerator in the technical developments that enabled

photography to become instantaneous, they both reference to the world famous

photographs by Edwaerd Muybridge that depict horses frozen in various stages of

galloping, and the history of how these photographs were commissioned and came

to be (Brower, p. 21, Burt, p. 293). Whether in how far this is indeed the case

remains up for discussion and will not be proven or dismissed here. Important is that

the horses in Muybridgeʼs pictures were trained and domesticated. To photograph a

wild animal another hurdle needed to be overcome, namely finding one (Brower, p.

28). As anyone who ever walked in the woods in the hopes of encountering animals,

for either photographic, hunting or plain observational purposes, will confirm,

bringing your camera, gun or eyes alone will not grant you success. That

photography was technically capable of photographing wildlife did not mean that it

automatically did so, according to Brower wildlife photography was not “a category of

photography that was waiting to be discovered by the intersection of camera and

animal” but rather “…a historically produced cultural practice (Brower, p. xxi).” If any

photographic subject ever laid bare the fact that photography itself was not an

automatic, objective medium that was able to show reality as it is, it must be the wild

animal. The camera with all its technical capabilities, was in desperate need of a

human and its experience to be positioned in the right place at the right time. This is

where the hunter, and his set of skills, comes in.



2.1.1. Hunting With The Camera

During the proto-instantanious photography era, the hunter and the

photographer were more separated in their roles in the creation of animal

photographs, as was made clear in chapter one; animals were often photographed

as taxidermically prepared specimens. To obtain these animals they needed to be

hunted first, in this way the hunter was of influence in animal photography before

“wildlife photography” existed. The obtainment of species did not only serve a role in

the creation of imagery depicting naturalistic picturesque scenes, the gathering of

living and dead animals and parts there from was an important part in mid-nineteenth

century Europe, in the quest for knowledge, fueled by science and colonialism.

(Tucker, p. 9, Ryan, pp. 205-206). A more detailed insight in this relation will follow in

the second part of this chapter. For now we focus on how the hunter and the

photographer became “one” so to speak.

“From the late 1850ʼs, explorers, soldiers, administrators and professional

hunters began to employ the camera to record images of animals, skins and horns

for purposes of scientific documentation and as evidence of their hunting

achievements (Ryan, p. 208).” Ryan here names various professionals that began

to ʻemployʼ the camera, which could give one the idea that he refers to different

groups of peoples, this probably was the case sometimes, but against the present

idea of profession and specialization, one must consider that in the nineteenth

century the boundaries between an ʻexplorerʼ, a ʻsoldierʼ, an ʻadministratorʼ and a

ʻprofessional hunterʼ were not as clearly defined as one may think. Geoffrey Batchen,

in Burning with Desire (1997) attempts to define the concept of nature, and its role in

the medium of photography. He indicates that in order to understand how

photography was able to develop simultaneously in what we now consider as



different fields of study; “science, art, and literature” we must understand that from a

nineteenth century point-of-view they were “indivisible and often embodied in the

same person and one text (Batchen, p. 57).” The professions proposed by Ryan

therefore must not necessarily have been carried out by different men. In this way it

becomes comprehensible that Shiras, who is according to the article also a U.S.

representative, conservationist, and when investigating the man further, also turns

out to be schooled lawyer, as an avid hunter in his free time should engage in the

practice of photography with a zeal that in the present day seems reserved for the

professional photographer (Brower, p. 48). But this does not make him the first to do

so. “In treating his photography as a form of hunting, Shiras followed the lead of the

editor of Forest and Stream, George Bird Grinnel (1849 − 1938)….. Grinnel

developed the concept of camera hunting in a pair of editorials published in 1892. It

was in May 1892 that Grinnel first introduced the term Camera hunting.” (Brower, p.

50) What also should be reviewed here is that George Shiras, George Bird Grinnel

and the magazines Forest and Stream and National Geographic were all originating

from the USA. The commonly accepted inception of photography was in France in

1839. The medium in various technical variations was soon used and implemented

all over the continent, and with the aforementioned colonial expeditions that Ryan

discusses stemming from England and France it is only logical that “hunting with the

camera” should also have developed among users of the photographic medium east

of the pacific. Ryan in Hunting with the Camera:ʼ Photography, Wildlife and

Colonialism in Africa indeed states as such, though opposed to the American

camera hunters, they developed their practice mainly in the colonies, especially the

African ones. The development of the practice, though, took place in roughly the



same period as is did in the USA, starting not long after the photographic medium

allowed for it (Ryan, p. 219).

In the earlier quote by Ryan, it is stated that photography was used by various

professionals to register: “…images of animals [which were dead], skins and

horns…” Ryan here discusses photography from the proto-instantanious period,

when photography became instantaneous, these same professionals began started

to use photography to photograph animals in the wild. This development stemmed

from the desire to show wild animals in their habitat, initially not because of their

pictorial quality of for conservation purposes, but for the same reasons for which the

dead animals and parts of them were photographed: scientific documentation,

establishment of empire through showing it, and as evidence of hunting

achievement. To do so, they wielded techniques that were already developed and

applied in hunting9 in which they substituted the gun for a camera. The resulting

images were substitutes for the hunted animal and functioned accordingly: as

hunting trophies: “The image is an image of prey. In being photographed [the animal]

has been hunted. Shirasʼs image[s] belong to the discourse of camera hunting—the

image figures the animalʼs capture by the photographic hunter (Brower, p. 48).”

Therefore the practice of photographing wildlife was not named or referred to as a

photographic practice, but regarded as a manner of hunting, a subdivision of hunting,

and as recreational or sportive. “The camera hunters were amateur photographers

who took advantage of the new photographic possibilities without framing their work

in terms of art (Brower, p. 30).”

It now becomes easier to explain why Shiras did not use the term wildlife, or

wildlife photograph. The idea we now have of wildlife photography, did not exist. The

first images of animals in the wild, now regarded as wildlife photography, were not



seen as such at the time of their production. The first wildlife photographers were not

photographers, they even competed with the at that time burgeoning profession of

the professional photographer, as Brower explains: “The development of new

photographic processes changed not only what could be and what therefore was

photographed, but also who photographed it, and how those photographs circulated

and functioned. The developments in photographic technology that enabled animal

photography undermined the earlier generation of entrepreneurial

photographers…(Brower, p. 29).” The people that engaged in ʻhunting with cameraʼ

originated from all sorts of professions, with the general divisor that they were active

as hunters. In a desire stemming from their activities as hunters they started to use

photography, not to create photographs but to create animal substitutes that would

function in the same way as hunting trophies did. The transparency of the

photographic medium that is so important in what we today refer to as wildlife

photography, was of no importance. In modern wildlife photography, the illusion that

we are directly looking at the animal depicted is important, we are meant to forget

that in order to photograph an eagle inside her nest, a rather complicated

photographic act had to be performed. “…any attempt to understand early wildlife

photography cannot be trough the category of wildlife photography with its retified

notion of deep nature and imposed separation of human and animal (Brower, p.

Xxviii).” When ʻhunting with the cameraʼ is concerned, who the photographer was,

where and how the photograph was made was very important in the functioning of

such photographs as hunting trophies. “The [modern] rhetoric of wildlife photography

naturalizes itself and implies that the wildlife photograph is the inevitable result of

taking a camera into the woods to photograph animals (Brower, p. Xviii).” The

practice of wildlife photograph, however, was not developed as such, and did



therefore also not started to appear. The term was coined and attributed to

photographs like that of Shiras at a later point in time. This shift in how these

photographs are comprehended according to Brower is due to the change of

discourse and context in which they are situated: “The increased circulation of

animals photographs in scientific ands other contexts obscured the connection

between the photographer and the animal essential; to reading the image as a

trophy (Brower, p. 82).” This transition can be seen in the work of Shiras, that was

first published in a magazine directed at hunters: Forest and Stream and, after

passing by in public exhibitions, appeared in National Geographic, that in retrospect

treats the photographs as wildlife photography. The photographs by Shiras and other

practitioners of ʻcamera huntingʼ were meant in the first place to function as

substitutes for the hunted animal and the hunting trophies that were made out of

them, and the action of taking the photograph was, more often than not, followed by

the actual killing of the animal. “…The photographic hunting that emerged around the

turn of the century was far from exempt from cruelty or killing (Ryan, p. 219).” Which

is not what a contemporary audience expects from modern wildlife photography that

actually aid in the preservation of nature, since it “…stands as the figure of an ideal

relation to nature; it provides access to nature while leaving it untouched” and

“…show us animals we could not ʻnormallyʼ see, wildlife photographs erase their

taking, offering their viewers transparent access to nature (Brower, p. xiii)”.

2.1.2. Point, Aim and Shoot

Now we have established that the first wildlife photographs were not actually

taken as such, but were functional as representations for the skills of hunters and

should be regarded as hunting trophies rather then wildlife images that allow us to

regard nature up close without actually penetrating or influencing it, it might be



interesting to briefly address the fact that a large part of the vocabulary used in

photography up until today is similar to the vocabulary used in hunting. This

similarity, that is linguistic as well as functional, is addressed by Susan Sontag in On

Photography: “…The camera/gun- loading and aiming a camera, shooting a

photograph…(Sontag, p. 14)” and Christian Metz in Photography and Fetish (1984):

“…The photographic act…has been frequently compared with shooting, and the

camera with a gun. (Metz, p. 141).” Sontag and Metz both however interpret this

linguistic connection between the practice of hunting and photographic in a

metaphorical sense. Sontag explains that it due to the predatory act that is inherent

to photography: “To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing the as they

never see themselves, by having knowledge of them they can never have; it turns

people into objects that can symbolically possessed…Just as the camera is a

sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is a sublimation of murder – a soft

murder, appropriate to a sad, frightened time (Sontag, p. 14).” Metz bases his

linguistic connection on the fact that with instantaneous photography a snapshot is

created, a moment is frozen, and concludes that a corpse, because it is without a

past or a future, is created through photography (Metz, p. 141).

These metaphorical interpretations of the linguistic link are understandable

and valuable, however do not explain the origins for the use of hunting vocabulary

within photography. Brower tries to address this, and suggest that: “Thinking trough

the implications of the practice of camera hunting allows us to reread the relation

between cameras and guns. I suggest that the analysis allows us to move beyond

the psychoanalytical understanding of this relation and instead read it as the trace of

a forgotten moment in photographic history (Brower, p. 81).” The forgotten moment

that Brower speaks of, is the moment in photographic history in which camera



hunting was a common practice. That he classifies it as forgotten, is because the

photography that was created with it, due to the change of context in which it was

made available to the public, was gradually transferred into the realm of wildlife

photography. He continues by stating that “Remembering that the metaphor was

once taken literally can help us read animals photographs against the grain. While

technology may have made capturing animals on film easier, the animals captured

are no less real (Brower, p. 81).” The reason Brower does this can be found in the

fact that he has written his book Developing Animals with the animal and its agency

in mind, and with that the rights of the animal. He want to make his reader realize,

that the vocabulary is now used without even thinking about hunting, and the killing

of animals that came along with it. However, James r. Ryan, who seemingly has a

less activist agenda in how he describes the animal subject in “Hunting with the

Camera: Photography, Wildlife and Colonialism in Africa” also states: “A number of

writers on photography have noted, in present-day Western society, where taking

photographs consists of ʻloadingʼ , ʻaimingʼ and ʻshootingʼ the camera has become a

ʻsublimation of the gunʼ (Sontag, pp. 14 - 15). Yet few have noted how this process of

sublimation was well underway in the second half of the nineteenth century, mots

especially within the language and practices of Victorian and Edwardian big-game

hunting.” In this thesis no political stance on how the animal should be treated is

taken, however that Brower suggests to take the connection more literal is not

without use when the article by Shiras is considered. In explaining how he, Shiras,

uses hunting techniques in obtaining his photographs, Shiras uses hunting

vocabulary, in describing his photographic act in a very literal way. The reason that

he does this is very practical, and logical, he did not need to adapt the vocabulary

already used in hunting to photography, but could use it in its entirety, with the only



exception that the word gun had to be exchanged for the word camera. Because, as

we have seen, he was not a photographer (yet) but a hunter with a camera instead

of a gun. In this way the revelation that wildlife photography started out as hunting

with the camera could help to explain how the hunting vocabulary rather seamlessly

and undisturbed was assimilated into that of photography.

Sontag, arguably, also makes a literal connection between photography and

hunting though: “ʻOne situation where people are switching from bullets to films is the

photographic safari that is replacing the gun safari in east Africa…Guns have

metamorphosed into cameraʼs in this earnest comedy, the ecology safari, because

nature has ceased to be what it always had been – what people needed protection

from. Now nature – tamed, endangered, mortal – needs to be protected from people.

When we are afraid we shoot, when we are nostalgic we shoot pictures (Sontag, p.

15).” Incidentally she herewith in a way points out the same transformation that

Shirasʼ photography made, from hunting trophies made in an undiscovered, unknown

and possible dangerous nature to photographs that as wildlife photography aid in the

preservation of that very same nature.

2.2. The Human Subject as Other in Colonial Photography

That precisely National Geographic should turn up in a search for the ʻfirstʼ

wildlife photograph is not wholly unexpected, the National Geographic Magazine,

published since 1888 by the National Geographic Society, has become world-

famous for its featured photography concerning (social) geography, archaeology and

natural science. As they state in their description of Shirasʼ photograph, its

publication started of “a long tradition of featuring wildlife photos in the magazine.”



Photography critic Andy Grundberg, in his review “Decoding National Geographic” in

Crisis of the Real (1999) of the exhibition Odyssey: The Art Of Photography At

National Geographic that was held in 1988 in Washington D.C. to commemorate the

one hundred year anniversary of the National Geographic Society, even speaks of

the pictorial genre known as ʻNational Geographic photographyʼ. Grundberg notices

that National Geographic Magazineʼs photography “made the world shrink” before

his eyes and its influence on “Americanʼs perception of other places, peoples and

species” is enormous. He continues by arguing that National Geographic Magazineʼs

photography “Not only…reflected a quintessentially American view of the world

throughout our century [the twentieth in this case]” but even “created and refined a

persuasive and pervasive photography aesthetic” (Grundberg, 1999, p. 172-173).

Grundberg touches here upon some interesting aspects about photography,

he states that photography somehow is capable to influence ideas people have

about spaces, peoples, objects and animals; that photography can influence

perception and even can shape or define peoples ideas about their own identity. And

that the aesthetic, or formal aspects of a photograph, can be persuasive and

pervasive. These effects of photography as shaping (national) identity, defining

perception and having persuasive power, are reminiscent of how photography is

described to have been an agent in the establishment, shaping, definition and, most

importantly maybe, the gratification and maintaining of colonial power.

The photograph that will function as a starting point in comparing the animal

subject on Shirasʼ photography will be the one that is published alongside the

exhibition review by Grundberg (Fig. . A starting point, since we will not so much

analyze this specific photo itself, but rather the class of photographs it could be

considered to represent, as was done with Shirasʼ photograph.



The reason that we are using this particular photograph is not only because

Grundberg thought it was exemplary for the kind of photography: “…for which

National Geographic was once slightly notorious: dark-skinned, bare-breasted

woman, in their customary dress, looking at the camera without any awareness of

their impending status as spectacles for adolescent western eyes (Grundberg, p.

172).” But also because this very same photograph can be found on National

Geographicʼs website in the same ʻmilestoneʼ category in which Shirasʼ photograph

was placed. Not as a milestone in Wildlife photography, but as the first photograph

that showed bare female breasts in the magazine.10 The photograph on the website

is accompanied by the following title and caption:

“Indigenous Cultures

A National Geographic milestone, this photograph of a Zulu bride and groom

in Witwatersrand, South Africa, became the magazineʼs first picture of a bare-

breasted woman when it was published in the November 1896 issue. The decision to

run it set a precedent to publish photos of indigenous peoples ʻas they areʼ.”

What is interesting is that Grundberg uses the word notorious, and continues

by explaining that the bare breasts that are to be seen in some photographs

published in National Geographic Magazine caused for his adolescent self to be

stirred in a way that is left open for us to speculate upon. National Geographic itself

also explains that the showing of bare breasts in the photograph is the reason that it

is considered a milestone. This is, indeed very probable, given the publication date in

the late ninetieth century, a period that was certainly less used, or acceptive, to the

open display of the female nude. What National Geographic however does not stress



in the caption, although they use the title ʻIndigenous Culturesʼ is that the bare

breasts belong to a woman of colour, a fact that Grundberg does point out. This

brings us to the second reason why this photograph can be considered ʻnotoriousʼ,

because although National Geographic states that its publication “set a precedent to

publish photos of indigenous peoples ʻas they are.ʼ” this photograph is an example of

how photography was used in order to represent peoples from the colonies to the

western public. It would be interesting to research at what time National Geographic

published a photograph from bare breasts belonging to a woman stemming from the

western culture National Geographic was produced for and within. It was unable to

find this ʻmilestoneʼ on their website, although we might safely conclude that it

occurred a considerable time after the publication of this photograph. What this

rather blunt speculation is meant to reveal is that, although regarded as a milestone

in retrospect and probably even scandalous when it was indeed published, a

photograph displaying ʻwestern breastsʼ would certainly not have been published.

The fact that it is a person from an indigenous culture who these bare breasts belong

to, and not the fact that the photographs shows bare breasts, is the reason the

photograph was published in the first place.

2.2.1. Colonial Photography as Conveyer of Truth

This indicates that there existed a difference, or an inequality, in how people

from other cultures were represented through photography in National Geographic.

This difference can be explained by their functioning in colonialism. John Pultz in

The Body And The Lens: Photography 1839 to the present, “Colonialism, Race and

the “other” (1995) states that “The process of describing the body is never innocent.

One must always ask who is doing the describing, and why? In the case of the many

photographs made in the nineteenth century of the indigenous peoples of countries



outside of Europe, the answer must very often be Europeans, exerting social control

over colonized peoples (Pultz, p. 20).” Photography from its inception on was used to

deliver visual information from the territories colonized by the countries in which that

inception had materialized and photography was used to the greatest extent during

the nineteenth century. Photography as an invention itself was even seen as, an

example of the superiority of such countries, Jennifer Tucker in Nature exposed:

photography as eyewitness in Victorian science (2005) in relation to Great Britain

states that “Many Victorians argued that science and photography demonstrated the

superiority of British civilization (Tucker p. 9).” That photography was able to function

in the establishment of colonialism is due to the fact that at the time the medium was

still largely regarded as a conveyer of truth. Liz Wells in “Surveyors and Surveyed ”

in Photography; A Critical Introduction (1988) states that “Photography grew up in

the days of Empire and became an important adjunct of imperialism, for it returned to

the western spectator images of native peoples which frequently confirmed

prevailing views of them as primitive, bizarre, barbaric or simply picturesque (Wells,

p. 68).”. Wells argues that the images that were brought back from the colonies did

not so much provided the public with new information about the indigenous peoples,

but rather functioned as a confirmation of the ideas the public already held about

these peoples. Susan Sontag explains that “Photographs cannot create moral

position, but they can reinforce one- and can help build a nascent one (Sontag, p.

17).” These nascent ideas about peoples in the colonies were largely based on

written and drawn material representing the peoples and live in the colonies. But

ʻ…unlike the body of painting and engravings of ʻexoticʼ peoples that had been

popular Victorian Subjects, photography claimed to be able to create objective,

ʻscientificʼ records which were free from the bias of human imagination (Wells, p. 69.)



Despite claims for its accuracy and trustworthiness, however, photography did not so

much record the real as signify and construct it. In the portrayal of indigenous

peoples this resulted in photographs that were showing these peoples without any

indicators of modern civilization. According to Anne Maxwell in Colonial Photography

& Exhibitions: representations of the ʻNativeʼ and the making of European iIdentities

(1998) colonial photography “…represented ʻnativeʼ peoples as non-interiorized

ʻothersʼ who existed outside the common bonds of humanity and the flow of history

(Maxwell, p. 2).” The absence of modernity in this photography indicated that

modern civilization did not enter or was developed in the colonized territories, which

aided in the justification of the colonizersʼ presence in these territories. “By

representing colonized peoples as savage and primitive, the images reassured

Europeans of their unique claim to civilization (Maxwell, p. 7).” The absence of

modern civilization, furthermore, suggested that there was even a need for

colonizers to be there, since they stemmed from civilized modern society and could

transfer these, in their opinion, superior values to the colonies by their presence

there. What actually was done, was the transferral of a preconceived idea about

indigenous peoples onto these peoples, by photographing them accordingly. This

constructed identity that was attributed to the indigenous peoples of the colonies,

was as opposite to the identity of the people from the colonizing powers as posable,

and in being so, affirmative of that identity: “European culture was defined against

[the constructed] ʻotherʼ of colonized peoples (Wells, p. 70).” The indigenous

peoples were indeed not represented ʻas they areʼ, as indicated by National

Geographic, but were “… categorized and ranked according to ʻanthropologicalʼ type.

Those who were subjected to the colonizerʼs gaze were often seen as merely

representative of racial or social groups. And were usually posed so as to embody



particular kinds of dress, social roles and material cultures (Wells, p. 69).” The ʻotherʼ

that indigenous peoples were used for to represent in colonial photography, was

arguably not only opposite to the identity that colonizers attributed to themselves;

Frantz Fanon in Black Skin/ White Masks even goes so far as to categorize the

indigenous people as they were represented in colonial photography in “the universe

of object, where they remain beyond the limits of cultural intelligibility.”, arguing that

“…in colonialist discourse ʻnativeʼ peoples are not positioned within the

psychoanalytic structures of self and other (as quoted in Maxwell, p. 2)”.

2.2.2. The Constructed Human Other and the Animal

Photography of indigenous peoples, just like photographs of wild animals,

aided in the construction of empire; the construction of the ʻotherʼ that indigenous

peoples and wild animals were meant to represent originated from the same system

of representation (Ryan, p. 213) However photographs portraying indigenous

peoples did so by representing and accentuating the differences from Western

peoples, differences that were pre-selected to show the subjects as being uncivilized

compared to Western standards, confirming the superiority of the colonizer. With the

wild animal subject, the creation of the photograph in such a way was not possible.

The wild animals subject couldnʼt be instructed to pose in the way desired by the

photographer, and also could not be made to show behaviour that is was expected

to show. Furthermore, caused by proto-instantanious photographyʼs impossibility to

capture wild animals, there was no comparable precedent in how the wild animal

should be presented, even if it could have been instructed. The superiority of the

colonizer through these photographs was emphasized by initially presenting them as

hunting trophies, that accentuated the skill and power of the ones that made them.

“The capturing of the animals was a symbolic representation of the conquest of all



distant and exotic lands (Berger p. 259),” the word ʻcapturingʼ that Berger uses here,

again points out the linguistic relation, it can be understood as concerning animals

that were captured both through hunting and through photography. The wild exotic

animals in these photographs represented the richness in natural resources and the

undiscovered wildness of the colony, and therewith that of the colonizer. The wild

animals were being made into representatives of the wild nature that was tamed and

thus controlled by the colonizers, by capturing these animals photographically but

through the use of hunting techniques. To reinforce this functionality, photographs of

wild animals as hunting trophies were published alongside photography that showed

the hunters alongside actual hunting trophies “Such photographs of white men with

dead animals or antlers, tusks and skins are a common even cliched, feature of

victorian and edwardian colonial photography, and they testify further to the

significance of hunting as a ritualistic display of power by white colonial elites over

land, subject peoples and nature (Ryan, p. 208).” This accentuates again that

transparency, or the effacement of the production process, important in wildlife

photography, played no role in “hunting with the camera”.

What is similar in the representation of wild animals and indigenous peoples is

that they both are presented as being outside of modernity, and therefore could be

ruled over by, or assimilated into, the culture that did place itself within modern

civilization. Ryan in discussing colonial photography in Africa states: “African nature

[was seen] as primeval, untainted domain to be controlled by and for europeans.

[Colonial photography was] to have serious consequences in terms of the

environment and it animal occupants, as well as for…indigenous African

populations.” But whereas the human subject, as we have seen, was attributed with

this position by the way is were portrayed, the animal subject has a place outside of



human civilization and modernity by its innate characteristics. Within the visual

rhetoric of the animal photograph there is no meaningful difference between a

contemporary animal and one from the nineteenth century. An animal does not carry

cultural temporal indicators that enables a human viewer to define it as stemming

from a certain era (Brower, p 4 −5). The fact that animals, since they are in fact

animals, by definition are not a part of human civilization also aids in the acceptance

of the representation of behavior, occurrences and body parts, that are not accepted

in a comparable way when the human subject is concerned. Photographs of animals

mating, fighting, nursing, dying, or photographs showing genitalia or infants animals

are not protested against, by the animals themselves, but maybe even more

importantly by the public that usually regards these representations as educational

and entertaining, and not as trespassing the privacy of the animal or as offensive to

their own morality (Bouse, p. 23-24). When looking back now at the photograph that

shows the bare breasts of an African woman, the same invasion of privacy can be

seen as the invasion of privacy that is regarded normal when an animal subject is

concerned. That the photograph, and many more photographs like this that were

published in the magazine, could be regarded as notorious, not only because the

photograph shows bare female breasts. It can be seen as notorious because, in a

time where the representation of bare Western breasts would have been outrageous

and unimaginable, the representation of the bare breasts of an indigenous woman,

was maybe frowned upon, but was published anyway. This was possible since by

effacing signs of modernity and modern civilization in the constructed representation

of indigenous peoples from the colonies as ʻotherʼ, the indigenous peoples were

ascribed characteristics that are inherent to the wild animal subject. Maybe they

were not completely reduced to objects as Frantz Fanon argues, but arguably, the



ʻotherʼ they represent showed more similarities with the wild animal subject than the

western human subject, therefore they could be viewed upon and function in the

same way, as wild animals did, in colonial photography.

2.3. Wildlife Photography as Colonial Photography

What we now regard as wildlife photograph is marked by the transparency

that is inherent to the photographic medium, when regarding a wildlife photograph,

one beliefs that it offers a direct view into nature, the way it was made is effaced or

neglected in our observation of it. However, although early photographs from animals

in the wild contain formal characteristics that makes us classify them as wildlife

photography, this transparency was not definable in their first appearances and

functions. Photographs, like that of George Shiras originate from a practice that

actually cannot should not be regarded as wildlife photography, or photography for

that matter, because it was seen as a variation of hunting at the time they were

made. A variation of hunting in which the gun is substituted by a camera. This simple

substitution can partially explain how the vocabulary used in hunting permeated that

of photography. The skills that were needed for hunting were used in order to find

and isolate the animal so that it could be photographed, the resulting photographs

functioned accordingly, not as wildlife representations, but as hunting trophies,

accentuating the skill of the huntsman rather then the beauty of nature. This is where

the transparency is lost, the context of by whom, how and where the photograph was

made, was actually pivotal in the functioning of the photograph. The photographs, as

hunting trophies, were part of a larger representational network that aided in the



definition and affirmation of colonial power. The photographs as hunting trophy did

this by accentuating the skill, and therewith the control of the huntsman who made it,

and the superiority of the culture he originates from over the land the animal was

shot in. The representational network of which these photographs were part also

included photographs of indigenous peoples. The veracity that was attributed to the

photographic medium was used by colonizers to confirm ideas about indigenous

peoples already in existence, that were previously planted in the minds of the

general western public by media that did not have this veracity. The “other” that was

created in photographing indigenous peoples according to these ideas, was a

generalized representation of a stereotype. They were not presented as having

singular identities, but as representatives of a class of people. In doing so, the

colonizers, used these constructed identities, that were freed from any indications of

modernity or civilization, attributed to the indigenous peoples as “others” in the

creation and affirmation of their own identity. Animals by nature were actual the ideal

ʻCultural otherʼ opposed to which the western world could define itself, with no

indicators that places them in modernity or comparable civilization of their own. In

order for indigenous people to function in the ideal same way, they were deprived,

through the photographic medium, from the characteristics, human civilization and a

place in history, that set the human apart from the animal.



Chapter 3:

A Case Study From Documentary Photography:

The Animal as Other Compared to the Human Other as Object of Voyeurism

ʻI photograph to find out what something will look like photographed.ʼ

Garry Winogrand (1928-1984)

In the following chapter a photograph printed on page 27 by Garry Winogrand

(1928 − 1984) from his book: The Animals (1969) will be analyzed. In this

photograph the animal subject is present, however, opposed to the photographs

discussed in the case studies in chapter 1 and 2, in the presence of human beings.

The photograph does not have the animal as its main subject but is depicts two

human couples in the zoo while they are observing two elephants. The main focus in

the photograph seems to be on that observational act itself. The observation of the

animal other here is not exclusively done by the camera but by the human subject in

the photograph as well. In order to examine how and to which human other, this

specific animal other relates, the observatory act that the photograph depicts is

analyzed first, secondary the observatory act in the making of the photograph is

analyzed in attempt to discover what the doubling of that act might reveal about the

former and itself.

The doubling of the observational act in Winograndʼs photograph allows for us

to see it as a ʻpoint of inter-section of multiplicities of gazes (Wells, p. 325). If we

identify and dissect the different gazes that surround (secondary observation by



Winogrand) and are present (the observational act depicted) in this photograph, we

can “allow viewers of the photo to negotiate a number of different identities both for

themselves and for those pictured; and it is one route by which the photograph

threatens to break frame and reveal its social context (Lutz and Collins, p. 354)”.

We will examine the intra-diegetic gaze as Burgin describes it, the exchange

of looks within the photograph, in this there are two intra-diegetic gazes between the

two pairs of human onlookers and the elephants in the photograph (Burgin, p. 148).

The photograph is situated in a zoo, a location that is constructed especially for the

purpose of observing animals. The visitors are physically severed from the areas

where the animals are displayed, which makes looking at the animals the main if not

only interaction, or rather action, possible for these visitors. This concentration on

one-sided looking and observing for pleasure, discouraging any other communication

like for example conversation of touching and reciprocal communication altogether is

reminiscent of voyeurism. To examine the functioning of the human and the animal

gazes in the zoo by the subjects in Winograndʼs photograph, “Why Look at animals”

(1980) by John Berger and “zoo Spectatorship” (2007) by Randy Malamud, will be

wielded as the main sources. How and if indeed the gazes surrounding this

photograph, can be regarded as voyeurism will be examined using the

aforementioned texts in combination with primarily “Looking at Photographs” (1982)

by Victor Burgin and “Representation, Voyeurism, And The Vacant Point Of View”

(1979) by literary criticist and philosopher Joel Rudinow.

The other gaze that will be examined is that of the photographer, which in this

case will be coupled to that of the reader, or onlooker of the photograph as these two

gazes are interlinked: “…the [photographic] system of representation has



accustomed us to identifying our own point-of-view with the look of the camera, and

therefore a full-frontal mirror reflection with the self (Burgin, p. 150).” The doubling of

the observatory act in this photograph seems to emphasize Burginʼs notion that “The

signifying system of photography, like that of classical painting, at once depicts a

scene and the gaze of the spectator, an object and a viewing subject (Burgin, p.

146).” With this in mind we will make use of W.J.T Mitchellʼs ideas on the meta-

picture; a picture (a photograph in this case) about a picture, providing a second

order discourse that can tell us something about that picture (Mitchell, p. 35, p. 38).

In this case we will look into what the fact that the observational act is represented in

the photograph, opposed to the notion that we could be looking at that act itself in

reality, adds to our (the readerʼs) understanding of that act. The notion that

Winograndʼs photographic act doubles the observational act he depicted also

implicates that it doubles the voyeuristic aspect of it.

Finally we will be examining both the aforementioned gazes and the

connected notions on voyeurism, within and around a photograph in which a similar

situation is depicted. In this photograph the observatory act is also doubled by its

photographer Susan Meseilas, but the intra-diegetic gaze is between a human and

an objectified human other. We will use notions by film theorist Derek Bousé on the

specificity of the animal subject and the complications that this specificity adds to the

act of observing them, to display how these are of influence in the way we observe

the objectified animal, opposed to the human objectified other, both directly and

photographically.



3.1. Looking at Animals in the Zoo

As stated in the introduction, the zoo is a place constructed to enable humans

to observe animals, arguably there are many more objectives that the modern zoo

has, which concern nature conservation and education, but the main reason for the

general public to visit the zoo is look at animals in order to be entertained (Berger, p.

259). Randy Malamud describes the observatory act in the zoo as follows:

“The spectatorʼs opportunity to watch everything animals do, resembles on

some levels the power and pleasure that characterizes the disorder of voyeurism.

people watching ever-present and compliant subjects – carteblanche – encompass

the zooʼs visitors role, their raison dʼetre (Malamud, p. 221).”

Malamud indicates that the act of looking at animals in the zoo is entertaining

since pleasure is obtained because the looking at animals there is inherently

voyeuristic. In Winograndʼs photograph there are two pairs of humans, in apparently

very different ways, looking at Elephants in the zoo. Can these ways of observing

indeed be classified as being voyeuristic and therefore explanatory for the facts that

visitors are entertained in the zoo and is that because of how these observations are

acted out or because of what they are aimed at and where?

3.1.1. Obvious Voyeurism in the Zoo

The couple on the left side of Winograndʼs image is covered by a cardboard

box, in this scenario we assume the box is equipped with viewing holes and is used

to hide under, in order to observe without being observed doing this. According to

Victor Burgin, by obscuring themselves the couple transforms their direct

observational act into a voyeuristic one, the ʻvis-a-visʼ confrontation is corrupted or



opposed, identifying this gaze as voyeuristic (Burgin, p. 148). Although Burgin talks

about photography, this notion is applicable here, when the cardboard box is

interpreted as a metaphor of the camera, in the sense that it is a lifeless object that

clouds the direct gaze between two living beings by being in between, and in an

even more literal sense, because a camera is, in its most primitive form, not much

more than a box with a small hole. This metaphor will be discussed further upon in

chapter two. This clouding of the direct gaze however, is mostly hindering the view of

the elephants, it is not equally disrupting for both parties engaging in the reciprocal

gaze. According to Joel Rudinow this inequality is the actual signifier that it concerns

a voyeuristic act here, he states that whether a gaze can be considered voyeuristic

or not, is not dominantly dependent on “the visual nor the sexual, but asymmetry

(Rudinow, p. 176).” Rudinow continues, nevertheless, by saying that: “The voyeur

seeks a spectacle, the revelation of the object of his interest, that something or

someone should be open to his inspection and contemplation; but no reciprocal

revelation of openness is conceded, for the voyeur requires at the same time to

remain hidden (Rudinow, p. 176).” He seems to partially contradict himself here by

saying that the voyeur requires to be hidden. To be hidden is a state, that, when

taken literally, very much has to do with the visual. He even argues that: “The

importance of concealment is shown for example by the impoverishment in viewing

conditions which the voyeur will often willingly suffer in favor of it (Rudinow, p. 176).”

Although Rudinow claims that asymmetry is the main component that indicates that a gaze is

voyeuristic, this asymmetry is to be obtained by obscurement. Also Burgin argues that a disruption in

reciprocal visibility qualifies a gaze as voyeuristic. The gaze of the couple, concealed by the

cardboard box, may indeed be viewed as voyeuristic, seemingly confirming Malamudʼs statement.

The object of the gaze, the elephants, can no longer identify the source of the gaze as anything other

than a cardboard box, but the couple can still look more or less undisturbed at the elephants. In doing



this, the couple grants the elephants the ability to recognize and react to a human gaze, like humans

can, but only to a certain extent, since the way they obscure themselves is very obvious, and would

fool no human into thinking that no one was watching them. Nevertheless, their gaze can be

considered voyeuristic in a way that is not exclusive for the location of the zoo or the fact that it is

aimed at animals. Rudinow and Burgin however, are both discussing the gaze between humans, and

base their notions of that gaze being voyeuristic on the fact that humans are equal in some way,

mainly in their visual and communicative abilities, and that the inequality needed for a gaze to be

voyeuristic, bringing with it the desired satisfaction, can be obtained by visual concealment of the

voyeur.

3.1.2. Unavoidable Voyeurism in the Zoo

The couple in the middle of Winograndʼs photograph is not covered by a box

however, they are presumably, their faces are not visible, directly looking at the

elephants, and the elephants are able to see them. Arguably this is the way most

people observe animals when in the zoo, but can this way of observation also be

considered voyeuristic, as Malamud argues? If we accept the notion that the

voyeuristic gaze is defined by an inequality, or asymmetry between the parties that

participate in the gaze, as Rudinow states, where is this inequality situated in the

zoo, when it is not to be found in the open and direct reciprocal gaze between the

majority of zoo Visitors and the animals they observe? Could it be that in the zoo the

inequality is provided by the location itself? The requirement to be hidden and the

impoverishment of view that Rudinow speaks of, can be found in the zoo, but in the

not literal sense of concealment, but in the manner in which the animals are

represented in the zoo. John Berger in “Why Look at Animals” made some

observations about the zooʼs characteristics in how it constructs the possibility for

viewing animals. “In a zoo, ʻ…animals are always the observed. The fact that they

can observe us has lost all significance. (Berger, p. 257).” Whereas the couple



covered by the box does address some significance to the fact that the elephants

might see them, the couple that openly gazes at the elephants does not. They

however are figuratively concealed by the fact that they are in the zoo. Although the

zoo is designed in such a way that the animals seemingly are in a nature like

situation, and we can observe them as such, it is a manmade structure, consisting of

confined spaces. In these spaces, animals are sorted by species, surrounding by just

elements that are reminiscent of their natural habitat. The animals cannot leave

these spaces at their own free will, they cannot escape the gaze of the visitor,

making concealment by the visitor obsolete, since the desired effect is provided for

by the construction of the zoo. According to Berger: “The décor [in a zoo] serves two

distinct purposes: for the spectator they are like theatre props: for the animals they

constitute the bare minimum of an environment in which they can physically exist

(Berger, p. 260).” Berger here, by stating that the decoration functions for the

spectator as theatre props, insinuates that the animals to the visitors, can be nothing

more than actors in this theatre: by being positioned in an artificial environment they

themselves become artificial. Although they are ʻrealʼ animals, the fact that they are

in the zoo transforms them into representations of themselves. ʻEach cage is a frame

around the animal inside it. Visitors…proceed from cage to cage, not unlike …in an

art gallery [to] stop in front of a painting and then move on to the next. (Berger, p.

260)ʼ The animals are only a representation of an animal, framed by their cages,

involuntary edited into groups and the zoo itself is a retouched simulacrum of nature,

with visual fragments creating a pastiche of that very nature.

When seeing the animals in the zoo not as actual animals, but as

representations from animals, the act of observing them, even without concealment,

can be seen as voyeuristic, also according to Rudinow. Rudinow, namely, in his



analysis of what makes an observatory act voyeuristic, states that “…The

consumption of representations generally is voyeuristic.” (Rudinow, p179). He

argues that this is a possibly because the distance that can be diminished to a

minimal, enabling an augmented intimacy, when viewing a representation. “The

concealment, invisibility, or anonymity required by the voyeur place him necessarily

and irreducibly at a distance from the object of interest. But the benefits of intimacy,

equally requisite to satisfaction, are at the same time understood to be attainable

only through the elimination of distance (Rudinow , p. 179).” Because of the this

paradoxical character of the voyeuristic act; the need to be concealed or invisible, yet

to be as close as possible at the same time, the voyeurʼs experience is characterized

also by a constant tension. The voyeur does not stand a chance of gaining

satisfaction. (Rudinow, p. 178). “What is therefore…most desirable [to obtain

voyeuristic pleasure] is the utmost decrease of distance without its disappearance

(Rudinow, p. 179).”

In this sense a representation partially is satisfactory for obtaining voyeuristic

pleasure, it can be approached much closer, enabling more sense of intimacy,

without being discovered. However the reciprocal capabilities of what we classically

would regard as a representation, are normally nil, and herewith the chance of being

discovered, partially responsible for the voyeuristic pleasure, is also rendered

impossible. This is where the zoo becomes special, The animals there, although

mere representations of their counterparts in the wild, are still capable of reacting in

some way, not only capable but even expected to: “In the zoo the humans demand

to be noted by the animals (Malamud, p. 225).” Unlike human actors in a theatre,

also a representation with live beings, they cannot be expected to comply with the

silent agreement that one ignores its audience, because of the fact that they are



animals and cannot be instructed to do so. The way in which they do, cannot be

considered as natural behaviour, but that is not important, it is about the excitement

within the audience when they do react. “zooʼs are more about people than about

animals; it is in some ways as if the spectator is looking at himself seeking the

spectacular beauty of life, he ultimately discovers an incarnation for his own

reflection to be the most stunning of all (Malamud, p. 228).”

Malamudʼs notion that the pleasure of watching animals in the zoo is obtained

because of its inherent voyeuristic tendencies, not only applies, but it seems that the

observatory act in the zoo is even voyeuristic in a way that is impossible to achieve

with inter-human gazes. The observatory act in the zoo simultaneous fulfills

requirements for voyeuristic pleasure found in the observing of live beings and in the

observing of representations. The inequality, or asymmetry, normally obtained by

concealment, is provided for by the structure of the zoo itself, the animals are

positioned for viewing, they cannot leave their confinements, they are not meant to

escape to zoo visitors gaze, this replaces the need for actual concealment of the

visitors. The diminishment of the distance, possible with representations, to obtain

the intimacy, is enabled by the fact that the animals in the structure of he zoo are

representations of actual animals, positioned in a space that is reminiscent of their

habitat, but functions solely like a theatre stage. The boundaries, the walls, ditches

and fences, between the visitor and the animal paradoxically enable close

approaching of the animal. The fact that the elephants in Winograndʼs photograph

are observed from such a close distance by the two couples, is only because of the

fact the zoo divided them from the animals.

However, although the zoo seems like a place where voyeuristic pleasure is to

be obtained, Berger argues that “the zoo cannot but disappoint”, since it is visited in



order to see real animals (Berger p. 261). But the pleasure derived from observing

them in the zoo is coming from the fact that the zoo as a structure transforms these

observations in voyeuristic ones. We want to see real animals in the zoo, but derive

pleasure from the fact that they are readily available representations. “The zoo to

which people go to meet animals, to observe them, to see them, is, in fact, a

monument to the impossibility of such encounters (Berger, p. 259).” Although most

zoo visitors might not think of themselves as voyeurs, the entertainment they obtain

in a zooʼs is arguably deriving more from how observation is enabled by the zooʼs

construction, and the representations it offers, than by the sole fact that animals are

observed. These animals are in fact not real animals, but live ones that are

positioned to represent actual wild ones.

3.2. Looking at Looking at Animals in the Zoo

The analysis of the gaze within Winograndʼs photograph was, although shortly

mentioned when wielding Burginʼs view on what constitutes for a voyeuristic gaze,

mainly focussed on the situation in the zoo itself and not specialized on the

photographic gaze that Winogrand bestowed upon that situation. However the fact

that we were able to analyze these gazes in such a way, was offered because

Winogrand photographed the situation. Although many zoo visitors make

photographs, Winograndʼs photograph is not comparable with the photographs that

are made when the zoo visitor directs his camera towards the animal in their

confinement. The photograph resulting from such an action would be a copy, so to

speak, of the intra-diegetic gaze itself. Winograndʼs photograph however does not

copy this gaze, but registers it, it does not represent that gaze itself, but that fact that



it is there. Although Winogrand was more or less in the same place as the zoo

visitors when he took it, he literally and figuratively took a step back from, or outside

of the zoo situation depicted. The resulting photograph, due to it being a photograph,

therefore offers a possibility to think and analyze this gaze from a different stance

than would have been possible with a photograph that zoo visitors make and also

from a different stance than would have been possible when observing the two

couples directly. “…putting four edges around a collection of information or facts

transforms it. A photograph is not what was photographed, it's something else…the

picture plays with the question of what actually is happening… They call the meaning

of things into question (Winogrand as quoted in Hooper).” Winogrand used

photographic observing in order to capture the act of observing in the zoo, one of the

observational acts, from the couple underneath the box could, as mentioned earlier,

could be considered a metaphor for the photograph act. The coupleʼs gaze that

observes the elephants directly, can be seen as metaphorical for the observing of

representations. This means that there are metaphors, for both the creational act of

the taking the photograph and the observing act that is bestowed upon the

photograph afterwords, somehow present within the photograph. The photograph

could be therefore considered a metapicture, being not only about what it depicts,

human and animal behaviour in the zoo, but about photography itself (Mitchell, p.

35). The idea of the metapicture is developed by W.J.T. Mitchell in order to analyze

how a picture by elements within itself, can explain itself. Mitchell, with this theory,

tries to explain the pictorial from within its own capabilities using its own

characteristics, comparable with how semiology and semiotics analyze texts in

structure, but not with language itself as its main descriptive structure but the picture

itself, the picture is the theory. “If there is such a thing as meta-language it should



hardly surprise that there is such a thing as a metapicture (Mitchell, p. 82).” The

quote by Winogrand which this chapter started with, is usually reproduced as such,

however when enlarging it, making use from its original context, it is as follows:

“ʻI don't have anything to say in any picture. My only interest in photography is

to see what something looks like as a photograph. I have no preconceptions

(Winogrand as quoted in Hooper.)”

By stating, that he does not want to ʻsayʼ anything, the use of the idea of the

meta-picture by Mitchell, in which the picture itself is the theory, seems valid for

analyzing Winograndʼs photograph. Victor Burgin in “Photography, Phantasy,

Function” in Thinking Photography (1982), also quotes Winogrand, indicating that the

photographic medium according to Winogrand, was able of describing itself (Burgin,

p. 206): “I like to think of photographing as a two-way act of respect. Respect for the

medium, by letting it do what it does best, describe. And respect for the subject, by

describing it as it is.”

A metapicture is not a category of pictures, but every picture can be regarded

a metapicture when its self-referentiality is considered analyzing it: “Pictorial self

reference is not exclusively a formal, internal feature that distinguishes some

pictures, but a pragmatic functional feature, a matter of use and context. ANY picture

that is used to reflect on the nature of pictures is a metapicture (Mitchell p. 57).”

Mitchell does describe three main categories of meta-pictures, he does that with

examples in which he refers to formal components. Winograndʼs photograph, can,

partially due to it being a photograph, be considered a combination, or as having

qualities of, the first two forms of meta-picture Mitchell describes (Mitchell, p. 56):11



1. The picture that represents itself, creating a referential circle or ʻmiss en

abymeʼ.

2. The picture that is generically self referential; the sort of picture that

represents a class, the picture about pictures.

3.2.1. Winogrand’s Photograph as Representing Itself

Winograndʼs photograph can be considered as self-referential when regarding

the couple on the left, underneath the cardboard box; a ʻmiss en abymeʼ but not in

the most literal way. A ʻmiss en abymeʼ can be described as a formal technique in

which an image contains a smaller copy of itself. Mitchell regarding his first

description of meta-picture, furthermore refers to images that display the creator of

the image while working on that image. Mitchel offers an example of a cartoon from

The New Yorker magazine that depicts a figure that is drawing a line, that line when

followed however, is the same line the figure is drawn with (Mitchell, p. 39). He

furthermore discusses arguably the most the famous example of a ʻmiss en abymeʼ:

Las Meninas by Diego Rodriguez de Silva Velazguez, in which Velazguez himself is

pictured while, presumably, because not visible to the viewer, creating the painting

itself, pencil in hand (Mitchell, p. 59). The direct representation of the creator while

creating, in this way, is possible due to the characteristics of both drawing and

painting that enable the artist to premeditate the contents and entrust them to the

paper or canvass accordingly. Hilde van Gelder and Helen Westgeest in “Self-

Reflective Photography” in Photography Theory In Historical Perspective (2011) also

discuss the meta-picture referring to Mitchell as well as to Victor I. Stoichitaʼs The

Self-Aware Image. An Insight Into Early Modern Meta-Painting (1997 [1993]). Van

Gelder and Westgeest point out that both these authorʼs mainly discuss the meta-



picture in relation to painting and drawing. The difference in the possibility of

including the creator of the image, within the image, between painting and drawing

on the one side and photography on the other, is due to “the nature of the production

processes in these media (Van Gelder and Westgeest p. 202).” Opposed to painting

and drawing, which are produced progressively, the actual photographic production

by the photographer, regardless of the exposure time, coincides with the moment

that the shutter is released. This does not mean per se that the creative process of

making the picture is encapsulated in this moment, ideas on where and when this

takes place have been widely discussed; taking versus the making of a photograph,

for now however, the moment of shutter release and its implications are considered

from a mostly practical point of view. A photographer that wants to include himself in

the photograph while taking it, that is in combination with his camera, cannot do so,

since for that moment to be represented in the photograph, it had to be in front of the

camera, within the lens its optical reach, when the shutter is released. Releasing the

shutter from a distance is a possibility for the photographer to be included in the

photograph, however one could argue that this method, although delivering a

photograph, is more comparable with the premeditation that can concerns drawing

and painting. If the photographer wantʼs to include himself in the photograph that he

is making, while making it, he has to make use of a mirror.

Although Winogrand does not use a mirror to include himself in the

photograph, the couple covered by the cardboard box - a primitive camera - could be

considered a metaphor of the photographic act Winogrand himself performs

simultaneously. He observes the couple from behind his camera, accentuating, by

exposing their observational method, his own voyeurism; as we had established the

gaze of the couple could be considered voyeuristic, because of the concealment of



the cardboard box and the fact that it is directed at animals in the zoo. Winograndʼs

photographic act furthermore can be considered voyeuristic in itself, making the

metaphor affirmative of itself, creating a vicious circle. Both Susan Sontag in “Platoʼs

Cave” in On Photography (1977) and Clive Scott in “The Nature of Photography” in

The Spoken Image: Photography and Language (1999) describe the act of taking a

photograph as somehow inherently voyeuristic. Sontag defines the photographic act

as setting up a “chronic voyeuristic relation to the world”; it is not a part of direct

confrontational looking, but the look is mediated through a camera that the

photographer feels compelled to “put…between [himself] and whatever is

remarkable that [he] encounters (Sontag, pp. 10 − 11).” Scottʼs argument for this,

also mentions the importance of framing that Winogrand himself considered pivotal

for photographyʼs transformative power, as material for the voyeuristic nature of

photography: “Voyeurism is looking through the camera, through a frame, through a

window, isolating and fetishizing, breaking down responsibilities connected with the

continuity of experience and one's own visibility; the camera, one comes to believe,

conceals the photographer (Scott, p. 31).”

The putting-in-between of the camera seemingly softens and de-intensifies

the intrusive aggressiveness of the direct gaze, as does the cardboard box for the

couple on the left. The camera adds a purpose or reason to voyeuristic staring. In a

way, it creates an alibi for both photographer and photographed object. Photography

enables the voyeuristic moment to linger on through capturing it, the photograph that

is produced is makes the photographed situation readily available afterwords.

However this immediately exposes the problematic consequence of photography for

obtaining voyeuristic pleasure. By translating the momentary actual situation on to a

photograph, where it is represented motionless, the secretive component that is part



of the thrill that causes voyeuristic pleasure gets lost. The chance of getting caught

peeping is annihilated by the photographic process. The pleasure of voyeurism can

only be relived by engaging in the act of voyeurism again. With this in mind,

combined with Sontagʼs explanation of the photographic act as an appropriating one,

that ʻsomethingʼ that Winogrand wanted to experience photographed, can also be

explained as the innate voyeuristic photographic act itself (Sontag, p. 4, p. 197). The

paradox of the photographic act being innately voyeuristic and facilitating voyeuristic

looking, but not capable of reproducing or capturing the voyeuristic pleasure is in line

with the notion on voyeurism and viewing by Rudinow that “voyeurs do not have a

chance of gaining satisfaction (Rudinow, p. 173).” In this way again Winograndʼs

gaze repeats, and can be considered represented by, the couplesʼ gazes in the

photograph. They are not able to see the ʻrealʼ animals they came to see, but the

entertainment they experience is only possible because of the innate voyeurism of

observing animals, that are mere representations, in the zoo.

3.2.2. Winogrand’s Photograph as Generically Self Referential

The couple on the right could be considered as representative of watching

representations in general, and in this way an example of a metapicture of the

second form that Mitchell describes: the meta-picture that represents a class of

pictures; the ʻpicturesʼ or representations, that the elephants are, due to their being

positioned in the structure of the zoo. Winograndʼs own voyeuristic unequal

photographic gaze also duplicates this gaze, but now there is no literal metaphor to

be found for the camera. The camera in this gaze, is substituted by the inter-specie-

ality of the encounter; whereas the photographic camera can add to the justification

of staring or observing towards a human subject, the characteristics of the animal



subject - the elephants - with its inability for expressing its discomforts or shame,

when present, make the justification of this gaze by a camera obsolete (Bousé, p

23). The photographic gaze of Winogrand seems to relate to the human subject as

the human gaze by the couple does to the animal subject: the elephants.

Andy Grundberg in “The Final ʻfactsʼ of Garry Winogrand” [1988], and Carl

Chiarenza in Standing On The Corner... Reflections Upon Winogrand's Photographic

Gaze: Mirror Of Self Or World? (1991) both typified Winograndʼs photography as

metaphorical or mirror-like for society and human behaviour (Grundberg, p.78, and

Chiarenza, p. 50). They both argue this, because the motive of observation, and

herewith voyeurism “…is consistently present in the work of Winogrand; Watchers

watch the watchers (Chiaranza, p. 50).” That Winogrand chose the zoo is not

surprising because he recognized the similarities between animals and humans in

their own and their reciprocal gazes: “Winogrand returned [to the zoo]…to follow up

his observation that the gestures, gazes, and expressions of ʻfreeʼ humans and

caged animals had a number of characteristics in common…There is an

overwhelming sense of the presence of the voyeuristic urge in man and animal _ the

obsession (compulsion) to look. (Chiaranza, p. 50).”, “The men, woman and animals

in his [Winograndʼs] pictures are seldom seen alone, and almost never out of

context; they exist as social beings, revealing themselves only through their

interrelations with others (Grundberg, p. 78).”

The motive of observation can be found more often in photography: the

medium, by isolating the observatory action deployed by the subject, reveals it. In

Winograndʼs photograph the registered observational act is aimed at animals, yet it

can be seen as metaphorical for the human gaze towards humans as well, the



elephants represent representations in general by being in the zoo and also by being

photographed as such, could arguably represent the objectified human subject.

Because although different in their abilities to communicate when observed directly,

photography renders the animal and the human subject equal. In Winograndʼs

photograph, the specific characteristics, of as well the location: the zoo, the subjects:

the humans and the animals, en the medium trough which these are shown to us:

photography, offered possibilities to analyze the photograph as a meta-picture, and

the information about what it depicts, was revelaed because it is depicted.

3.3. Looking at an Exotic Dancer and Looking at that Act

The photo we will compare to Winograndʼs photograph is taken at a girl-

show12, this location shares characteristics with the zoo in how it enables and

constructs observation: The zoo as a peep-show is a comparison offered by Randy

Malamud; cash is payed in order to engage in an undisturbed observational act. The

female dancer and the zoo animal are both readily available (Malamud, p. 222). In

this particular photograph that stems from the series: “Carnaval Strippers” (1976) by

American documentary photographer Susan Meiselas (1948), a man is

photographed while apparently busy watching a female dancer in a girl-show.

Apparently, because in the photograph he is looking outwards from the frame

towards the photographer and not, any longer presumably, towards the female

dancer. This photograph is comparable to that of Winogrand, on the level that a

photographer (Meiselas) captures an (in this case interrupted) observatory act (the

man watching the dancer) at a location that is constructed for that observatory act to



take place (the “girl” show), the object of the gaze within the photograph, however, is

a human and not like in Winograndʼs photograph animals (the elephants).

3.3.1. The Difference That Makes a Difference

To examine the similarities, and maybe more importantly, the differences that

arise when observing an objectified human subject (female dancer) versus an

objectified animal subject (the zoo animal) directly and trough photography, we will

make use of Derek Bouséʼs “The problem of images” in Wildlife Films (2000). Bousé

discusses the animal as subject in wildlife films, however since he argues this

particular animal subject is also not a real animal, but a representation that is

moulded and edited into a representation that fulfills certain expectations we might

have about it based on earlier experiences, the “differences that makes a difference”

between human and animal he proposes, can be used here (Bousé, p. 23 − 24). For

both the zoo animal, and the female dancer and their surroundings are reminiscent

of a realistic situation in a way; an elephant-herd in the wild, a random woman

dancing in a discotheque, but in reality they are mere representations within a

constructed and edited interpretation of these situations that contain only fragments

of the ones they refer to, just like wildlife films do according to Bousé (Bousé, p. 5 −

6). Basically film is a very long sequence of photographs, in this way the wildlife film

is not only comparable to the situation depicted in Winograndʼs and Meseilasʼ

photographs, as a structure that moulds animals into representations, also the film

itself is a representation like those photographs themselves. Bousé argues that

“…when a subject of a film is a living, feeling being, yet has no way of

comprehending the implications of being filmed or the power of visual images and

representation in general; when it never will understand these things in the future,



(unlike humans who are filmed as infants)…the filmmaker enters into a relationship

with the subject that is different from all others… (Bousé, p. 23 − 24).” The

differences Bousé describes seem to be focussed on issues relating privacy and

consent on the one hand and interchangeability on the other.

3.3.2. Privacy and Consent

According to Bousé, Animals do not seem to suffer from embarrassment from

public display or violation of their privacy in a way humans can definitely identify – it

is generally held that they do not have privacy. Therefore they do not enjoy rights of

privacy and “informed consent”, in addition to being difficult to obtain, is considered

inapplicable and irrelevant, providing for entirely different kinds of behaviors to be

shown (urination, mating, etc, etc,) usually without objection, not only from the

subject, but also the audience (Bousé, p. 23 − 24). The female dancer and the zoo

animal are both readily available, with the main difference that the animal is not able,

and the woman not expected, to react or express their opinion about being observed.

The female dancer is alive and capable of reacting to being observed, however the

female dancerʼs purpose is to be observed and the observatory act performed by the

men is carried out in mutual agreement of both origin and object of the gaze.13 In

Winograndʼs photograph however, the elephants are alive as well, but do not have

adequate means to communicate their agreement or disagreement with being stared

at or to be photographed, the gaze between human and animal is, as Berger

describes it, dual, balancing between comprehension and non-comprehension,

recognition and alienation (Berger, p. 252). Whereas in the ʻgirl-showʼ situation the

agreement between observer and observed positions and maintains the woman

dancing on the stage, in the zoo this ʻagreementʼ to position and maintain the animal



so that it can be observed, is made trough fences and walls and by facilitating the

animals with food, mates, and confinements that are reminiscent of their natural

surroundings.

3.3.3. Interchangeability

In wildlife films, animals are interchangeable, footage of many different look-

alike animals may be edited so that it seemingly represents one singular animal. For

an animal to be a look-alike, it only needs to be the same size and species,

sometimes even gender does not play a role, when the gender differences in a

species are inconspicuous. The narrative of a seemingly single penguin for example,

first in search of his parents, then for food and then growing up to be an adult

penguin, can be constructed from footage shot a multiple locations, on multiple

occasions, with many different animals in the wild or even in captivity (Bousé, p. 23 −

24).14 In the zoo, the animal also is not a unique being, each lion is every lion, the

groupings of different species in the zoo function as icon for their kind, they are there

to answer to the idea the visitors have of these animals. In the zoo one organizes a

visit accordingly. “First we go and see the ʻthe elephantsʼ and afterwords ʻthe

monkeysʼ and then to the birdhouse!”15 They do not have personality or specific

treats per animal, only per specie. In this way the situation depicted in Meseilas

photograph is similar, the women dancing in shows, purely for the visual

entertainment it offers, also are not personalties and do not have a singular identity.

They represent a class of woman, the available class, the potentially sexually

promisquous class.

Both in the zoo and in ʻgirl-showsʼ, there are however instances in which the

interchangeable animal or woman gets, or is attributed with an identity. Several



years ago a small polar bear in the Berlin zoo rose to worldwide fame, that we have

come to know as Knut. However, not many people would have recognize that exact

baby polar-bear as Knut. On the contrary, people started to use that name to identify

other baby polar bears. When the real Knut became a grown polar-bear, remarkably

bigger and clearly more veracious than his juvenile self, the name Knut did not even

seem to fit him. He was absorbed back into the pack of anonymous polar bears in

Berlin, while his name lived on when it was given to little white polar bear formed

candy and stuffed animal toys. Exotic dancers, seldom reveal their original name or

identity, they do sometimes carry names, but these are usually insinuative, or exotic

sounding, pseudonyms. In both the zoo and the ʻgirl-showʼ the identity that seems to

apply to some of the animals and girls, is also a representation. Just as

interchangeable and only one more element, like the fake rocks in the zoo, or the

feminine sexualized clothing worn by the exotic dancer, that adds to the theatre like

structure of the situation.

In photographing the situations in the zoo and the ʻgirl-showʼ, however,

differences arise between the human and the animal subject regarding

interchangeability. Which can be made clear through the way in which Winogrand

and Meiselas have included the objectified subjects, the objects of the intra-diegetic

gazes, in their photographs. One of the elephants in Winograndʼs photograph can be

seen looking back at the couples, and his face and gaze are also clearly discernible

for Winograndʼs camera and therewith for the viewer. However, this gaze is not

making the elephant identifiable as a specific elephant. It is still ʻan elephantʼ, that

for an untrained viewer - his keeper will maybe recognize him - will be hard to single

out from group of elephants. Meiselas, in framing her photograph, has cut of the

dancerʼs head, the face of the objectified subject, this causes for an accentuation of



the impersonal character of the scene, and the dancer. This specific woman is a

representation for a woman. Should her head, and face, have been included in the

shot, the dancer would have become a singular identity for the viewer in theory, for

although this woman is unknown to the viewer, her having a face would have made

her an individual amongst other women and, in theory, discernible from a group of

women. When observing the woman directly, arguably her face is also on display,

however amidst a continuous action and surrounded by the constructed situation,

sounds, temperature and smells and textual context - the sign above the ʻgirl-showʼsʼ

entrance. The time for contemplating that face, registering it and memorizing it,

available when it would have been on the photograph is not present in the same way

when its regarded directly. Since photographyʼs ability to attribute an air of

authenticity to an artificial situation, by transforming the situation into a two-

dimensional representation stripped from clear indicators of its artificiality, the

dancerʼs head needed to be invisible,in order to duplicate the impersonal character

of the scene in Meiselasʼ photograph. To portray the elephant in this photograph as

the objectified other, the representation that it constitutes in the zoo, Winogrand did

not need obscure the elephants head, since the interchangeability of the animal, is

not effected by photographing it, indeed it arguably intensifies it. For the context that

could have attributed the elephant individual qualities is erased, the interchangeable

character of the animal subject is successfully used in wildlife films as Bousé argues,

whereas, should a human protagonist be exchanged from scene to scene in a film or

documentary, it would immediately unmask it as an artificial construction.

The main difference when observing an animal or a human lies within their

(in)ability to communicate and the consequences this has for their privacy. Animals

cannot like humans express their agreement or disagreement with being observed.



The concept of shame and privacy as it is familiar for humans seem to not exist in

that way among animals. However, there exist situations in which humans are

observed by other humans in a way comparable to the way of observing int the zoo.

The example here is a ʻgirl-showʼ in which a female dances on a stage in order to

entertain the public that has come, and probably payed, to observe her. The

agreement that can be made between humans cannot be made between a human

and an animal. The dancer on the stage is free to leave that stage in theory, yet she

remains there because of the agreement. The animals in the zoo that are to be

observed while engaging in their ʻnaturalʼ behaviour, must be confined, not by a

verbal agreement, but by their surroundings.

The second factor that sets the animal subject apart from the human subject

when observation is concerned according to Bousé, is the interchangeability of the

animal. However in both the situations depicted by Winogrand and Meiselas the

objectified subject of the gaze is an interchangeable one. This, in the girl-show

situation, is also due to the agreement that is made between origin and object of

gaze there. The girl dancing there is a representation that represents a class of

woman. However the when the objectified human subject is photographed the

interchangeability of it disappears, due to the authenticity the photographic medium

can grant an artificial situation. This would have unmasked the artificial identity of the

female dancer in Meiselas photograph. When an animal in the zoo is photographed

this unmasking of it being a representation also can happen, but has an opposite

effect. Should we have analyzed photographs here, that were made by the coupleʼs

in Winograndʼs, or by the male observer in Meiselasʼ photograph, we would not be

able anymore to distinguish the elephants or the dancer from the original beings, an

elephant in the wild, a woman dancing in a discotheque, they represent and identify



them as representations. However whereas the photo of the women would have

granted her a, in theory, discernible identity, the elephant would still be ʻan elephantʼ.

3.4. Voyeurism as Inevitabilaty

We have established that the gaze in a zoo is inherently voyeuristic, not due

to literal concealment, making the action performed by he couple of the left rather

futile, but by the structure of the zoo itself, which presents live animals as

representations of their wild counterparts in a setting that is reminiscent of their

original habitat, but merely is a theatre-like stage in which the animals are positioned

as actors; the concealment, enabling the inequality, or asymmetry, Rudinow argues

is necessary for an act to be voyeuristic is provided for by the zoo itself. The

impossibility for the voyeur to obtain satisfaction is also present in the zoo, since the

reason to go there is to experience entertainment by observing ʻreal animalsʼ, yet the

entertainment does not originate from the observing of the animals but from the

voyeuristic nature of the gaze that is enabled in the zoo, which is voyeuristic because

the animals are in fact not “real”, but representations.

This analysis was possible due to the fact that Winogrand has photographed

the scene depicted. The resulting photograph, by isolating and framing the

observatory acts in the zoo, functions as a metaphor for as well the act of observing

performed by Winogrand in making the photograph as well as a metaphor for

observing the photograph itself. By the doubling of the observatory acts performed

within the photograph, in the photograph itself, Winogrand accentuates the

voyeuristic nature of these observatory acts and of that performed by himself and

along with that, the observatory act that is performed by the onlooker of the



photograph. Because it is a photograph, and not a painting or a drawing, the

doubling of the creator of the image while making it, in the classical way was not

possible, the metaphor for Winogrand can be however distinguished in the couple

covered by a cardboard box. The couple on the right, whoʼs gaze is seemingly

undisturbed, when observing the animals, can be seen as a metaphor for viewing

representations, in which concealment is also not necessary because of the inability

of a representation to react and discover being stared at. Winograndʼs photograph

can therefore be considered a metapicture that is referring to itself and as a

metapicture that refers to the class of observing representations of objectified others,

whether this be classical representations like two-dimensional photographs, or the

representations that the elephants are in the zoo. Winograndʼs photography in

general can even be argued to be made as metapicture, based on his utterances on

how he wanted to use the photographic medium as descriptive apparatus on his

own; he does not want to ʻsayʼ anything, but wants to deliver an image, that due to its

innate formal characteristics and content, could explain something about what it

depicts. Arguably this, is the meta-picture that Mitchell opposes to meta-language,

the picture that does not illustrate written theory, but is the theory.

The difference between an animal subject and a human subject as object,

concerning the observing of it, can be found mainly in the communicative and

interchangeable characteristics they have. Whereas humans beings in a photograph

are regarded from a personal individual perspective, the animal is seen as part of a

larger, more grand system that is not stirred by individual cases of change and

seems a perpetual entity in which there is no progress or evolution, but only

repetitions of fixed motives or behaviors by exchangeable animal individuals. The

animal is always interchangeable, whereas the human subject is only



interchangeable when it is presented that way, as part of an agreement that can be

made because of the possibility of communication in-between humans, this

interchangeability can be erased by photographing the interchangeable human

subject, like the exotic dancer, whereas this is not possible when photographing an

animal. Observing animals is arguably always voyeuristic. Whether this is done

obscured, directly or trough photograph.

With the differences proposed by Bousé in mind, the following statement on

voyeurism by Rudinow, could possibly be turned around: “In general, one cannot

enter into any relationship with a subject which is mutual, reciprocal, or symmetrical,

insofar and so long as one treats it voyeuristically (Rudinow, p176).” The kind of

relationship that Rudinow states to be unavoidable when one treats a subject in a

voyeuristic manner, is namely inherent to observing an animal subject, in whatever

what way this is done: The relationship one enters with an animals is always un-

mutual, un-reciprocal and asymmetrical due to their incapability of communication,

resulting in the impossibility to establish agreements, and their interchangeability as

singular beings, due to them being from another species.



Conclusion

Through the three case studies the animal subject in photography was

investigated in diverse appearances as ʻotherʼ in photographic representations. We

can conclude from these case studies that the animal subjects indeed functions

differently throughout various genres of photography, however, in all three case

studies certain aspects inherent to the animal subject have proven itself to be pivotal

in how the animal subject is, and can be represented in photography. Animals as

photographic subject cannot seamlessly be analyzed like a human subject because

some characteristics set them apart from the human subject. Some similarities to the

human subject, however, make some aspects of photographic theory which focus on

the human subject applicable to them.

In all three case studies the fact that one cannot communicate with an animal

in a way that makes it possible to instruct them or make agreements with them

comparable to how this can be done with a human is of great influence on how they

are represented in photography. The nature of the influences on the photographs,

however, differs from genre to genre and is dependent on the technical state

photography was in at the time. In proto-instantanious photography this resulted in

the fact that most animals represented in photography were dead, since the long

exposure times needed for photography at the time made them difficult to capture

when alive, appearing as taxidermically prepared specimens in lifelike situations.

The technical state of photography at the time also made the dead human a popular

subject. The difference however is that whereas photography replaced the need for

preservation of the dead human body itself, photography actually fueled the practice



of taxidermy. Up until today photography of prepared animals can be read as

photographs of actual live animals, as is demonstrated by Hiroshi Sugimoto.

When photography became instantaneous, living animals, especially in the

wild, were still hard to capture. In order to photograph wild animals, hunting

techniques were wielded and the resulting photographs were seen as hunting

trophies rather than transparent representations of nature associated with what we

now call wildlife photography. These hunting trophies functioned in the discourse of

colonial photography, they established the superiority of its Western maker over

nature, and therewith over the territory they were captured in. Alongside photographs

of these animals, photographs of indigenous peoples were made for the same

purpose. And not only for the same purpose: by stripping the human subject of the

characteristics that made it human ( being also indicators of modern human

civilization), the human subject in these photographs was transported into the realm

of animal photography, making it possible to view and understand them in the same

way. The uncivilized ʻotherʼ that is on display in these photographs was constructed,

but was seen as a trustworthy representation, because it was communicated to the

western public through photography, which at that time was still believed to be a

conveyer of truth.

Whereas the dead animal and the wild animal both exist in a situation outside

of our western world - and therefore are more easily can be defined as an ʻotherʼ -

the animal in the Zoo does not. When thinking int the act of voyeurism as creating an

ʻotherʼ since the voyeurism gaze is marked by an inequality, the Zoo animal is an

ʻotherʼ that coexists within our own culture. For the human subject to exist as other

within our own culture, is has to be outside of it. With a human subject the agreement

can be made to act as ʻotherʼ, like the exotic dancer in Meiselasʼ photograph shows.



When observed in that place the human subject is in many ways comparable to how

animals are observed in the zoo, when both situations are photographed however, a

second characteristic of the animal subject is recognisable that appeared in all case

studies: the interchangeability of the animal. When the face of an animal is visible in

a photograph it does not grant that animal a hypothetical discernible singular identity,

opposed to the case of the human subject. The interchangeability of the animal

subject in colonial photography was apparent in the fact that the animal by nature

exists outside of time: there is no discernible difference between an animal from

different eras.

Taking photographs of animals differs from taking photographs of human

being mainly in the impossibility of communication, and in the fact that, being not

from the same species, is cannot be recognized as having a singular identity, like

can be done with the human subject. However in every genre of photography these

singular characteristics function differently and alongside the human subject, which

actually, when viewed as other, is granted some of the qualities that set the animal

subject apart.



Illustrations Introduction

Fig. 1: Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528), Rhinoceros, woodcut, 1515, British Museum, London

Fig. 2: Jan van Kessel (the Elder) (1626 − 1679), An Allegory of Africa, about 1665, Oil on copper, Bayerische Staatsgemaldesammlungen, Munich



Chapter 1

Fig. 3: Lady Clementina Hawarden (1822 − 1865), Dog balancing on two chairs, about 1861, Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Fig. 4: John Dillwyn Llewellyn, (1810 − 1882), Duck, 1850ʼs



Fig. 5: John Dillwyn Llewellyn, (1810 − 1882), Otter, 1850ʼs

Fig. 6: Photographer unknown, Thanathos archive



Fig. 7: Photographer unknown, carte de visite of a young girl, posed as if sleeping, c.1870, Thanathos archive

Fig. 8: photographer unknown, retrieved from http://barrelrider.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/memento-mori/ august 8



Fig. 9: Photographer unknown, retrieved from http://brightbytes.com/collection/images/on_bed.jpg

Fig. 10: Hiroshi, Sugimoto (1948), Hyaena - jackal - Vulture, 1976, Gelatine Silver print, Gallery Koyanagi, Tokyo



Fig. 11: Dr. Tiffany Jenkins (photographer), Jeremy Benthamʼs Auto-Icon on display at University College, London. Chapter 2

Fig. 11: George Shiras 3rd (1859 – 1942), three deer, 1906, National Geographic Society, Washington



Fig. 12: Photographer unknown, Zulu wedding, 1896, National Geographic Society, Washington Chapter 3

Fig. 13: Winogrand, Garry (1928 − 1984), photograph published on page 27 from The Animals, 1969, Museum of Modern Art, New York



Fig. 14: Susan Meiselas (1948), photograph from Carnival Strippers, 1976



Bibiography Introduction

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- Bazin, André, (1960 [1945]), “The Ontology of the Photographic Image”, trans. Gray,

Hugh, in Film Quarterly, Vol. 13, No. 4. pp. 4-9

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Essentials Classic And Contemporary Writings, eds. Kalof, L. and Fitzgerald, A., Oxford:

Berg Publishers, pp. 251-261

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Minneapolis: University of minnesota Press

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Light And Electricity In Animal Representation,” in The Animals Reader: The Essentials

Classic And Contemporary Writings, eds. Kalof, L. and Fitzgerald, A., Oxford: Berg

Publishers, pp. 289-301

- Gombrich, E-H, (1960) “Truth and the Stereotype an Illusion Theory of Representation” in

Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation, New York:

Pantheon Books, pp. 72 – 87,

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Vol. 18, No. 2, pp. 92-95

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Cannstatt: Cantz

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Chicago: University of Chicago Press

- Scott, Clive, (1999),The Spoken Image: Photography and Language, London: Reaktion

Books

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Critical Histories of Photography, ed. Richard Bolton, Massachusetts: The MIT Press, pp.

340 – 388

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- Wells, Liz, (2000 [1988]), “Surveyors and Surveyed” in Wells, Liz (ed.), Photography: A

Critical Introduction, London and New York: Routledge, pp. 67-72

- Winogrand, Garry, (1969) The Animals, New York: The Museum of Modern Art

Chapter 1: A case study from early photography: The animal as other compared to the human other as dead.

- Barthes, Roland, (2000 [1980]), Camera Lucida, London: Vintage Books

- Bazin, André, (1960 [1945]), “The Ontology of the Photographic Image”, trans. Gray,

Hugh, in Film Quarterly, Vol. 13, No. 4, pp. 4 - 9



- Burgin, Victor (1982), “Photographic Practice and Art Theory” in Burgin, Victor (Ed.),

Thinking Photography, London: Methuen, pp. 39 - 83

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c.1500-1800, London: Reaktion Books

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Colonialism in Africa”, in Wilbert, C. and Philo, C. (eds.), Animal Spaces, Beastly Places,

London: Routledge, pp. 205 – 222

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Routledge



Chapter 2: A case study from wildlife Photography: The animal as other compared to the human other as cultural other.

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Cambridge: MIT Press


Essentials Classic And Contemporary Writings, eds. Kalof, L. and Fitzgerald, A., Oxford:

Berg Publishers, pp. 251-261

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- Burt, Jonathan, (2007 [2001]), “The Illumination Of The Animal Kingdom: The Role Of

Light And Electricity In Animal Representation,” in The Animals Reader: The Essentials

Classic And Contemporary Writings, eds. Kalof, L. and Fitzgerald, A., Oxford: Berg

Publishers, pp. 289-301

- Grady, John and Mechling, Jay, (2003) “Putting Animals In The Picture” in Visual Studies,

Vol. 18, No. 2, pp. 92-95

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York: Aperture

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ʻNativeʼ and the making of European identities, London: Leicester University Press

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Colonialism in Africa”, in Wilbert, C. and Philo, C. (eds.), Animal Spaces, Beastly Places,

London: Routledge, pp. 205 – 222

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in The National Geographic Magazine, Vol. xvii, no. 7., Washington: The National

Geographic Society, pp. 370 – 423




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science, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press

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Critical Introduction, London and New York: Routledge, pp. 67-72

Chapter 3: The animal as other compared to the human other as object of voyeurism.


Essentials Classic And Contemporary Writings, eds. Kalof, L. and Fitzgerald, A., Berg

Publishers, Oxford, pp. 251-261

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– 51

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York: Aperture

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- Winogrand, Garry, (1969) The Animals, New York: The Museum of Modern Art



Endnotes 1. Sontag mentions animal photography in the opening essay of her book: Platoʼs cave only on page 7 as an example of ʻidealized photographyʼ and later (p 15)makes a comparison to safari hunting to elaborate on ʻthe camera is a sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is a sublimation of murderʼ p14 2. emphasis and capitalization by Barthes 3. http://www.sugimotohiroshi.com/diorama.html 4. I have conducted this search several times, most recently on 21-08-2012. One should however keep in mind that this is purely a introductory pointer to how I personally have selected the main object of research for this chapter. Google search results are highly personal due to algorithms used by the search engine that take in consideration earlier conducted searches and unlikely to be the same for every user. 5. http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photos/milestones-wildlife-photography/ 6. Note that National geographic does not empathically state that it is a milestone for the National Geographic Society, but rather, although admittedly within the context of their website, as a milestone in wildlife photography in general. The differentiation that in concerns wildlife photography in National Geographic is made only in the accompanying text, but not in the entry/articleʼs title. 7. The full article was extracted from the cd-rom publication by the National Geographic Society: The complete National Geographic that Includes every issue from 1888 to 2009 in digitalized form. 8. emphasis by me 9. for an extensive review on what these techniques are and how they were employed in photography see Matthwe Brower, Developing Animals, Chapter 2: “hunting with the camera.” 10. http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photos/national-geographic-milestones/#/zulu-marriage_246_600x450.jpg 11. the third forms that Mitchell describes, the multi-stable image is not discussed upon further here. 12. This is how Meiselas refers to the event on her website: http://www.susanmeiselas.com/content.php?sec=cs 13. I do not wish to go into the reasons for woman to involve in professions like exotic dancing, in the first place. Arguably the deeper reasons for doing so in some cases are not positive, making the decision to be an exotic dancer, not a voluntary one, when woman are initially forced to do so, literally, or by circumstances dealing with money of abuse, the point here is however, that when already working in this profession, during the actual performance, the mutual agreement is present. 14. I am referring to to La marche de l'empereur (2005), which tells a very personal and emotional story of a young penguin, but is made using many penguins. A different example: in 2010 it was revealed that parts of the footage of two young polar bear cubs in BBCʼs renowned wildlife series Frozen Planet were shot in a ZOO in Rhenen, the netherlands, the general public was quite shocked. http://www.elsevier.nl/web/Nieuws/Wetenschap/324849/BBCserie-Frozen-Planet-deels-opgenomen-in-dierentuin.htm 15. Whereas mammals are still referred too as separate species, when it concerns insects, reptiles and birds the ZOO and its visitors tend to refer to the whole zoological order.

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