Wednesday, June 1, 2022 — 5
Michigan in Color
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Not made for your consumption
When I was younger, I would
draw on the walls and furniture
in my bedroom. One of my first
memories was taking my mom’s
bright red lipstick and smearing
it on my dresser to replicate the
dressers that I saw on HGTV.
While
I
definitely
got
into
trouble with my parents, the
memory marks the first of many
creative endeavors.
In fact, art is the only thing
in my life that came easy to me.
It took years of bad essays and
parent-teacher conferences for
me to write coherently. It took
hundreds of Kumon practice
problems for me to be decent at
math. And overall, I would say
I was never really exceptionally
good at any one thing. But art, in
particular, photography, always
came naturally.
At first, I used photography
as a method of breaking the
ice and forming connections
with people. I remember once
approaching
an
elderly
man
near the farmer’s market in
downtown Detroit. After asking
him if I could take his picture,
our conversation led to him
recounting memories from his
past music career in Motown.
He was, of course, a natural
in front of the camera, and I
vividly
remember
the
smile
on his face after I showed him
his portrait. That’s why I love
photography: The entire process
is gratifying. I love approaching
a subject, asking them if I can
take their portrait and watching
the conversation rapidly grow
and evolve into one about their
daughter, their recent vacation
or their old job instead. I
love taking their picture and
watching them find their angles,
poses
and,
eventually,
their
confidence. I love showing them
their image on the two-by-two
screen of the camera, watching
their face quickly light up as
they realize that they are, in fact,
beautiful.
Photography, as a whole, has
always given me fulfillment.
When I take photos of others,
whether it be a family member
or a stranger, it has always felt
like giving out a gift. In terms
of self-expression, photography
has always been able to capture
the depth of human emotion
better than I have ever been able
to write or say.
And I am good at photography.
In fact, it is one of the only things
I am good at. I wasn’t chosen
to go to math competitions. I
sat on the bench for most of my
volleyball games. I never placed
highly at the science fair. So
when
my
teacher
submitted
my
photograph
to
an
art
competition in the 7th grade, and
I won a national award, I felt a
rush of newfound excitement in
my life. My work was hanging
in a fancy exhibit in New York
City, I received a heavy silver
medal and I got invited to an
award ceremony in Carnegie
Hall. There is a rush that comes
with winning an award and
being praised, especially when
you have low confidence and
are bad at a lot of other things.
It
inflates
your
ego,
gives
you a false semblance of self-
worth and grants you a sense of
belonging in a hypercompetitive
environment. My photography
talents allowed me to express
myself, but my awards made
me feel like I was finally good
enough at something.
My view of art started to shift
after I won my first award. It
wasn’t a fun pastime anymore
but a way to expand trophies
on my bedroom shelf. I started
taking many more photos, but
more tactfully. You see, many
of these art competitions are
filled with a certain type of
judges — rich, highly educated,
white. And as I started to cater
my work to awards, I started to
inadvertently cater my work to
the white gaze.
The white gaze, popularized by
Toni Morrison, is the assumption
that the observer of the work
is white. Artists and writers
of Color have been reckoning
with how the white gaze has
influenced
their
work
both
subconsciously and consciously.
Blaise
Allysen
Kearsley,
a
correspondent of the Boston
Globe, writes that
”Foundational
to the centering and elevation of
whiteness in America, the white
gaze sees Blackness only within
the context of comparison and
alterity. It’s the shallow lens of
privilege, ingrained bias, and
misrepresentation that creates
both violent acts and micro-
aggressive behaviors.”
It didn’t take me long to
understand what the white gaze
wanted. I noticed a pattern in my
photographs that won awards
versus those that didn’t. The
white gaze likes a shallow form
of diversity. They like photos of
brown skin subjects in bright
color sarees and bindis. They like
photos of brown skin refugees
with a sad-longing on their
faces. It feels exotic but still easy
to consume, easy to understand.
The white gaze wants to see
photography
fulfill
their
preconceived notions of people
of Color. That’s why publications
often solely show people of Color
in states of distress rather than
in celebrations. They like work
that makes them feel worldly and
well-traveled from the comfort
of their suburban home.
The work that won awards
always had a serious tone, yet it
didn’t really explore anything
substantive. For example, in my
college admission portfolio, I
included a photo of my family
friend standing in front of a
Bollywood movie on a projector.
The formula for a birthday
party (if you’re my Amma and
her friends)
On April 24, my Amma turned
another year older. This year
was her third birthday during
the pandemic, and thanks to
vaccines and other precautionary
measures, she was finally able to
celebrate with her friends again.
Over the years, I’ve been told by
my Amma what she and her friends
do for each other’s milestone
birthdays. However, I have never
actually seen what unfolds at one
of these “aunty birthday parties,”
as I like to call them, since the rest
of my family and I typically wait
at home while my Amma is away,
pondering what to have for dinner.
Instead, I just gather information
from the hundreds of pictures and
videos my Amma shows me the
next day.
I’ve always wondered what
happens at one of these parties.
I know everyone always has a
splendid time, but there’s always
so much coordination involved
in executing said parties that I
honestly could not even imagine.
However, here’s what I do
know:
1. They all wear matching saris.
Matching saris are crucial for
the photo ops. The birthday girl
will wear a color no one else wears,
carefully chosen by the friend
group. They factor in things like
what the birthday girl’s favorite
color is, what color sari she doesn’t
own yet and what she looks best
in. For example, my Amma wore
a dark pink sari this year. Two of
her friends wore orange, another
two wore lavender, another two
wore yellow, but she was the only
one wearing dark pink. All the
saris had a white floral design that
glistened and shimmered in the
light. The sleeves of their blouses
had
matching
embellishments
while the rest of the blouse was
plain, creating a contrast that
made the details of the sari even
more striking. The group orders
the saris and delivers them to each
other slyly, keeping the birthday
girl in the dark about what the
outfit looks like until the night
before, or morning of, the party.
2. Decorations are a must.
Again,
for
the
photo
ops,
decorations are key. Typically,
these
decorations
include
balloons, streamers or anything
that fits the “theme” of the party.
For my Amma’s party this year,
the theme was “music,” since one
of her favorite hobbies is singing,
so the walls were adorned with
streamers and balloons shaped
like musical notes. In the corners
of the room, they had little
instruments and tanpuras set up,
along with more balloons that said
“50” on them. (Even though my
Amma didn’t turn 50 this year,
this was considered a “make-up”
party since she couldn’t celebrate
with her friends on her actual
50th birthday.) My Amma was
even given a flower crown made of
real, dark pink and white flowers,
deliberately chosen to perfectly
match her sari.
3.
The
birthday
girl
is
blindfolded and taken to a “secret
location.”
Read more at michigandaily.com
SMARANI KOMANDURI/MiC
SMARANI KOMANDURI
MiC Columnist
MAYA KOGULAN/MiC
MAYA KOGULAN
MiC Columnist
Read more at michigandaily.com