or… 20 steps to avoid if you want a simple life

I gave this talk last week for Pecha Kucha, Austin.  I was asked to talk about my ENEMIES Project, and as I was writing the talk I kept finding more threads from my past that connected to ENEMIES. Eventually I decided that I needed to start at the beginning.

One of my best artist friends once told me that my life is an artwork in itself.  I have always had this in the back of my mind, and it seemed bizarrely true after I put this talk together. So that became the first subtitle  This video has started to be shared around India by my friends there, and unfortunately I am worried that this might lead to me not being able to get another visa anytime soon. Still – I need to do my work.

All of you angel supporters from my kickstarter are in here.  Thank you again.  I hope you enjoy this.

[side notes: The sculpture on the bottom right of the first slide and the image at the top of this post is a glass and metal sculpture I did in college.  The model of the building in the third slide was a building I designed to be non-denominational chapel in art school. The drawing in the second to last slide is a self portrait of me looking at the devil. This was the first drawing I did in art school. The assignment was to draw ourself with a hero.  I chose an archetypal western anti-hero.

The only image in the presentation that is not mine is in the slide about have the show in the Senate. The black and white portrait in the bottom right of that slide was done by my friend Phil Borges and is a portrait of Buce Barnbaum - both famous photographers who I feel lucky to be friends with.  Check out their work here: Philborges.com & Barnbaum.com]

Nelson Guda’s talk about his work leading up to the ENEMIES Project.

This evening I found an old message from a woman in Georgia who asked if she could send a poem of mine to her friend who is suffering from PTSD.  The message had been shunted into the “other” box in my facebook mail.  I’ll share the poem here, because it is relevant to my ENEMIES work.  I understand PTSD – it is not easy to come back to the US after listening to three months of horrific stories and touring mass graves.  It isn’t something I would recommend as a vacation.

A day later I heard back from this woman.  She had sent my poem to her friend who is now re-deployed in Afghanistan.  He cried when he read it.

Peace isn’t easy.  But that doesn’t make it not worth working for.

This is the poem.  I wrote it for the solstice eclipse that happened last year. It’s meaning goes quite far into my own life, and it is very relevant to everything I am doing in ENEMIES.

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Solstice Eclipse

Minute by minute,
under the gaze of the waning moon,
the dark burn of winter has turned and is falling away.

Last year the night sky was shattered, and
now the solstice moon is hiding,
eclipsing in silence
behind a thick ceiling of gently-lit clouds.

In the distance a siren is wailing,
but I hear only the dropping
of minutes into an empty bowl.
And now even that has stopped
as the earth swings on her pendulum
back toward another season of seasons
and I hold on to keep from falling away into space
where the broken pieces of older nights
drift out beyond the pull of gravity.

I see you moon,
behind the clouds,
I see you.
I know you have hidden
behind the earth this night
for a moment of reprieve
from the glaring gaze of the sun.

The siren has faded,
and the long night, once split and broken,
is whole again.
I know you are here
even though you are shy and hiding.

Somewhere tonight lovers are laying under you,
and other poets, better than I,
are writing words about you.
Somewhere tonight people are killing others under your gaze
and you hide from it all
eclipsing behind clouds on this longest night.

Perhaps if I had to watch both the lovers
and the killers, the sated
and the starving,
I would hide as well.

You don’t know that the night was broken
and you don’t care
that I will run through your touch once more,
or that sometime again I will swim naked
through a sparkling sea under your silken gaze.

Now that this longest night has passed and you have hidden,
I will still wonder about you
when I am gazing across meadows
of dancing fireflies,

And you will caress me
again without knowing.

- Nelson Guda

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Kashmiri young man

While I am putting together new works from my Kashmir trip, I thought you all might like to see the project that was probably the genesis of ENEMIES.  The Fallen Leaves Project was inspired by casualties coming out of Iraq. The opening page flashes current tweets about Iraq.  Click on the image in the middle to see more of the works.

Click to see >> The Fallen Leaves Project

“hope i don’t die”

Milky Way Rising Above the Lama Yuru Monastery

Monks in Lama Yuru… 

[Click here to view as slideshow]

We’ve taken some time off from Kashmir to explore a bit of Ladakh, the northwestern most region of India in the Himalayas – peaks over twenty thousand feet, high desert, and lakes so blue that they look like wedges of sky caught between the high peaks and left behind as the day rotated away from them.

Oil candles

Here the 11,500 foot high valley of the Indus winds green, lush, and wide between monasteries that are still rich in art and tightly wound into the communities they once guarded, prayed for and lorded over. The kingdom of Ladakh was made wealthy by silk road trade, fought over, conquered and flourished in a land of brutal extremes. Ladakh is a culture of it’s own – much like Tibet and entirely different from it’s Islamic neighbor Kashmir who it asked for help from in the past when Tibet tried to invade.

Motorcycling across the Himalayas – descending into a dry salt basin

When we arrived in Leh, we rented Royal Enfield motorcycles – a classic bike built by the oldest motorcycle company in the world. I had never driven a motorcycle before. After a twenty minute lesson from Alex and a day of motoring around Leh valley, we took off east across the Himalayas. In four days I drove through most of the on and off road hazards you can imagine – gravel, mud, streams, deep sand, and narrow roads edged with steep drop-offs.

Monk at the festival in Tsomoriri

Self portrait with villagers in Tsomoriri

We stopped for two nights in a town on the edge of Tsomoriri, a massive lake at fifteen thousand feet. The local monastery was having a festival and the town was crowded with tourists pointing their cameras inches from the faces of locals as who were packed into the courtyard of the monastery. I took a few photos of the festival and one self portrait with a couple of curious villagers. Then we shied away from the scene and hiked around and above the lake. I found peace in one of my obsessions – balancing stones.

[Click here to view as slideshow]

The ride back took us over the second highest pass in the world. Scores and scores of manual laborers walked past us, heading back to their tent camps perched on the edges of cliff hugging “highway” that they are building with shovels and spades. I stopped briefly to take photographs with a few of them. They were excited and curious – wish I had had some beer with me. The road down from the pass is ribbon of recently laid pavement that drops four thousand feet through switchback after switchback. We glided the first thousand vertical feet of road in just over a minute – no traffic, beautiful, heady, stunning.

[Click here to view as slideshow]

Tsomoriri Lake is ringed with walls topped with prayer stones…

Prayer stones around Tsomoriri Lake

Tso Kar – a large salt lake and wetlands…

Tso Kar, “Salt Lake”

I couldn’t resist.  I had to swim in Tsomoriri – three times.  It was frickin cold.

Swimming in Tsomoriri Lake

Ladakh.

Two days after arriving in Kashmir we were being driven around town by a hilariously loud former militant who wanted to be a Bollywood actor and visiting leader after leader of the fractured and diverse separatist movement. The mix of personalities we met could have stepped out of a movie or a novel. Some of these people could still laugh for me and my camera. The faces of others were only serious reflections of years in jail or solitary confinement, the loss of dozens or hundreds of friends, or their own darkly mixed pasts.

Shakeel Bakshi – Islamic Students Association
Decades of peaceful protest

I hadn’t intended to meet leaders here, but this conflict is filled with them – you cannot help but meet leaders here in Kashmir. It is a conflict overflowing with leaders. Some of people we met have always been non-violent protesters. Some were former militants – people who took up arms against the Indian government in the nineties, fought and killed and then later renounced militancy and are now working towards an independent Kashmir by non-violent means. Everyone had been in jail. Most on multiple occasions. Many for years and years.

This graffiti is everywhere in Srinagar.

This was our first view of Kashmir – a clash of leaders with ardent followers who all share the same desire for an independent Kashmir but come from different directions and histories. We had been thrown into a raging sea of desire for independence like the chaos of waves that break against each other at the end of a peninsula. We heard dozens of stories and saw hundreds of photographs of dead Kashmiris – men, women and children – gruesome and unforgettable.

I came to here thinking that the Kashmir conflict was a firstly a dispute between India and Pakistan and secondly a religious conflict between the Muslim majority and the Hindu minority of the region.

Yes, on the outside it is three of the largest nuclear armed superpowers in the world vying for control of a strategic valley filled with the liquid gold that is water – three because China also controls a portion of historic Kashmir. But on the inside this is a struggle for independence by a people who have been traded, trampled on, fought over, fought back, lost, and in several hundred years have not had a true democracy or independence but still hold out a desperate hope for it.

Even this is a radically simplified view, because embedded in this sad and complicated history are layers and layers of smaller interests and conflicts that would confuse even the most Machiavellian novelist.

An accidental collage that happened while taking an HDR image in the back streets of Srinagar.

All this was just starting to seep into my awareness as we careened around town past the machine gun and baton wielding soldiers on every major intersection while listening to short lessons on the recent history of Kashmir interspersed with hysterical impressions of Bollywood and American actors.

This is Kashmir.

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Alex falling into Dal Lake

Check out the blog of my friend and assistant, Alex Pullen: The Grotto

Since things have re-opened I have met and photographed some women who lost family members over the past decade or two. We also took a few days off while things were cooling down in the city.

Connectivity has also been a bit of a problem, so I am doing this post from my phone again. Here is a photo I took in the remains of Dastageer Sahab. I’ll post more later. This man crawled prone to the shrine while we were there.

For those of you who don’t know the history, Kashmir is part of the Indian state called Jammu and Kashmir, which encompasses three pretty distinct areas: Jammu, which is mostly Hindu; Kashmir, which is mostly Islamic, and Ladakh, whose ethnic group is different than either of these and historically related to the Tibetan people. The whole area is also referred to as Kashmir. When India and Pakistan gained independence from Great Britain in 1947, Kashmir was ruled by a Hindu Majarasha, who quickly sided with India. The conflict here revolves around the idea that Kashmir should never have become a part of India and should be independent.

The streets of Srinagar after curfew ends

At it’s core, the ENEMIES Project is about photographing people from opposite sides of conflicts, so here the conflict is between pro-independence and pro-nationalist ideas. Ideally I want to bring people together from opposite sides of conflicts. In Africa, this was not a problem, but there I was mostly working with conflicts that were largely in the past. The Kashmir conflict has subsided in recent years, but it is still ongoing. The first thing people said when I arrived was that I would not be able to photograph people together, because they would be afraid of being a target.

This trip has already been entirely different to any of my previous work on the ENEMIES Project. In all of the past trips I have photographed almost exclusively people who were not in leadership positions – normal people who were simply caught up in struggles beyond their control. So far in Kashmir I have mostly met with and photographed leaders – so far leaders of moderate separatist movements. These are people who want Kashmir to become an independent country. All of them have either always forsworn violence or have dropped violent opposition in favor of non-violent opposition. None of them would be willing to be photographed with someone from the other side. I am told there are still militant separatists in Kashmir, but I am not meeting with anyone from these groups. Today I met with and photographed a leader from the government, who is obviously opposed to independence. I also want to photograph normal people in Kashmir, but it has been interesting to meet with people who are in positions of leadership.

Professor Abdul Gani Bhat – a moderate separatist.

Two days ago the most revered shrine in Kashmir was gutted by fire. The people of Kashmir were shocked and angry at the government’s response. There have been accusations and rumors, but nobody knows what happened. After a tense protest, a bout of rock-throwing and a police response, the city was put under unofficial curfew. We were told that it would be best to stay in our hotel for the day. We did and the day was peaceful and quiet. The people of Kashmir are devastated. The Dastgeed Shahib shrine was revered by Kashmiris of every faith, but this tragedy seemed to highlight something positive. Everyone I have talked with has said that if this had happened two or three years ago the reaction of the people would have been much, much worse. To me, this is the clearest sign that Kashmir is moving beyond the violence that plagued the region for much of the last twenty years.

Today we spent some time walking the streets and talking to people. Most people are incredibly friendly and open to talk about politics. I haven’t felt any hostility at all, and today I even got a group of Kashmir police to let me take my photograph with them. We have gone into Mosques during prayers and Hindu temples during gatherings. Today we sat on the street with a group of Sikh keymakers. Everyone we have talked with, including the separatist leaders, has expressed complete openness and tolerance towards other religions and the idea that Kashmir was historically and should be a multi-ethnic, religiously tolerant society. The predominant feeling I have gotten is one of a tolerant people who want contact with the outside.

Me with a group of Sikh key makers who work on the street.
No shared language – just shared tea and smiles.

I’ve met a number of people who have friends across the political/ideological divide here, and yet they are still unwilling to be photographed together. There is still a lot of fear. I understand that fear. If I can’t find people who are willing to be photographed together I’ll have to do what I am probably doing with Tibet-China – photographing them separately and displaying the photographs together.

This is a wonderful land. I hope that it continues to move toward peace, and I can only wish that whatever I do might help nudge it that way a tiny bit. Perhaps that is like throwing a grain of rice against a mountain and hoping the mountain will move. Still, I do what I feel I have to do.

On the road to Kashmir

Floating post office in Dahl Lake – the most awesome post office I’ve ever seen.

Here’s a short timelapse of nightfall on Lal Chowk – the main square in Srinagar. I did this on the evening that the curfew was lifted after Dasgeed Sahib burnt down.

I was trying to post pics of our hotel, but bandwidth is too low this morning. So you get a text update from my phone Our hotel is in the central square – away from the tourist part of town and where most of the action has happened when the conflict here was hot. When we tell people where we are staying here we usually get a “really??”.

Mornings here are entertainingly noisy – grumbling trucks, shouting merchants, horns, dogs. The square and most of the town is filled with army and police, who watch the cacophony in silence, but will occasionally return a smile and have given us directions when we asked Across the street is the bombed out shell of an old theatre – trees growing up thru the center.

Staying in previously war or conflict ridden countries is def entertaining – given the right mindset. But Kashmir is also a major tourist destination completely with mostly Indian tourists. We haven’t felt in danger at all. People here are incredibly friendly and desperately seeking business from tourists. This place needs income and the people are wanting to meet and talk with westerners. It is a crazy, beautiful place.

Bombed out cinema…

The square…

Dahl lake…

Here’s a little video of a walk through McLeod Ganj and more…

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I am experimenting with how to produce works of Tibetan refugees who want their identity kept secret, because of fear for their families back in Tibet.

Fear for Family

I’ve decided to photograph Tibetans and Chinese separately rather than together as I have done with other conflicts so far.  This conflict is so hot and tense now, that it just makes more sense.  I’ll print the images together – next to each other.  Initially I asked Lobsang if I could photograph him at home, but he said that he would rather be photographed in the offices of GuChuSum.  I took his photograph standing in a dark corridor, because it seemed to reflect the serious and stark reality of the story that he was telling.  However, that said… reality is complex.  Lobsang and the other former political prisoners I met were both tortured, but now they are happy and grateful for their lives here.

Semtum

When Alex and I were looking around the gallery of photographs in GuChuSum one of the things that struck me the most was the year of the Chinese crackdown on Tibet – 1989.  I don’t have any memory of that in the news at all.  At the time I was living in Japan.  I remember all the coverage of the Tiananmen Square incident, but I had no idea of anything happening in Tibet.  It made me think about what I was doing at the time that people were protesting and being shot and arrested, and the vast contradictions of experiences that happen simultaneously in this world – at any one moment there may be people meditating, being shot, having an orgasm, fleeing or any one of a thousand other intense human experiences.

Later that day we also visited the Tibetan Youth Congress and the Tibetan Woman’s Association.  Altogether the five NGOs we visited made me realize just how successful the Tibetan community has been at organizing aid, rallying support in the western world and supporting their community.  These groups aren’t operating in unison – they hold different opinions on what should be done.  It is a complex democratic society, but it is amazingly successful.  I imagine that some credit goes to the genius level diplomatic skill of the Dalai Llama, but it also seems at least as much due to the motivation and drive of the people themselves.  Impressive.

Later that evening I went for a walk around McLeod Ganj in the evening.  Monks from all over south Asia; yoga and meditation tourists; partying tourists; Westerners; East Asian tourists; Indian Tourists; Tibetans; Indians; tiny winding streets; daily traffic jams; sacred cows; bars and meditation centers; yoga shalas and internet cafes… McLeod Ganj is one of the strangest towns I’ve visited.

McLeod Ganj in the evening…

Prayer Wheels in McLeod Ganj

Main Intersection in McLeod Ganj

The next day Alex and I ran into some of the Cosmopolitan Monks Society by chance.  Took this picture.  I love these goofy monks…

Fun with Monks

Quick update… This evening I got a text from the head of the Tibetan Woman’s Association telling me to come to the center of town for a candlelight vigil being held for a monk who had self immolated and died today in Llasa.

Candlelight Vigil