Madi Blayne Schultz

“You don't make a photograph just with a camera. You bring to the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved.” 
― Ansel Adams

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      There is no such thing as an objective photographer. Our photographs reflect the world; not only as it is but as we understand it. We create meaning and tell stories with the frames we shoot. In some cases, this is beautiful – it means that every picture is unique… no two artists will ever capture exactly the same image. It means that our photographs can stir emotions; nostalgia, elation, sorrow, or fear. We can paint elaborate pictures for our viewers; we can transport them to places they’ve never been, introduce them to people they’ve never met. However, the lenses we wield are powerful and, handled incorrectly, dangerous. I believe that when we take our cameras into places we are unfamiliar with or uneducated about, that subjective nature of photography becomes precarious.

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      For this reason, I believe that the photographs I compiled on my trip to the Dominican Republic are unfulfilled; fragmentary… they tell an incomplete and potentially unethical story.

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      Let me give you a bit of an explanation. I went to the Dominican with an Honors class – Service Learning in a Global Context. We prepared for our journey by reading material about the history, culture, and politics of the DR, and engaging in class discussions about these topics and others. When I packed my bags and rolled up the airport, I thought I had a pretty good idea about what to expect. I believed that my class, as well as my background knowledge (comprised mostly of photographs I’d seen on the Internet) had prepared me well to conceptualize the Dominican Republic without ever actually having set foot there. As I stepped off the plane, I realized my logic was naïve and critically flawed.

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      Upon returning to the States after a week-long experience in the DR, I continued to read material and engage in discussion about our trip, both in and outside of class. This helped me unpack a lot of what I had experienced. I checked out a book from our school library about Afro-Pessimism. Afro-Pessimism is defined generally as the perception that Sub-Saharan Africa is a region too riddled with problems for good governance and economic development. The book that I delved into dealt specifically with Afro-Pessimism in photography. It looked at the contrast between Western photographers’ depictions of Africa and African photographers’ depictions of Africa. Western photographers showcase poverty; their photographs often featuring disease-riddled, large-bellied African children and shanty-town villages. African photographers, on the other hand, juxtapose their country quite differently; with vibrant and characterful shots of nightlife and fashion, among other things. I quickly realized that my entire world-view had perhaps been shaped by this concept of Afro-Pessimism.

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       My whole life I have been exposed to largely Afro-Pessimistic media and rhetoric. In the wake of my trip to the DR, I’ve realized that this undoubtedly has shaped the way that I understand and conceptualize all non-Western, non-first-world countries (The DR included). I didn’t realize how deep-rooted this flawed understanding was until I experienced utter surprise at the color, life, and joy that I witnessed during the week I spent in the Dominican.

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      To be blunt, I gallivanted into the Dominican Republic wielding a Canon Rebel T3i. Did I use it to create ethically responsible, photojournalistic images of a country that I understand well? No. Did I use it to truthfully represent the multitude of narratives that are playing themselves out in this vibrant country? No, I did not. Rather, I used this camera as a tool to aid me in my shifting understanding of the world outside of America. I used it to create images that would remind me of an experience that I had.

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      I hope to have captured a glimpse of the vibrant, joyous culture that I experienced in the Dominican. However, if you scroll through my images, you’ll see the faces of some of the children I worked with at a school in Santo Domingo. Children whose names I can’t remember; whose stories I don’t really know because I don’t speak their language. You’ll see historical sites that I don’t fully comprehend the significance of because I only know bits and pieces of Dominican history. You’ll see city streets I passed by; signs I can’t read; and street vendors I captured in candid. You’ll see a collection of images that hold truth and emotion for me personally, but for which I can only provide a small and incomplete amount of context. 

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      This trip brought me to eye-level with a lot of harsh realities. My own world-view came crumbling down, and I’m definitely taking care and time to rebuild it. My time in the Dominican has piqued my curiosity and put on my heart the desire to photograph responsibly. Understanding a situation, place, community, or person well enough to document it truthfully takes time, intent, and dedication. As I continue to grow and to educate myself, I strive to create increasingly authentic photography.