This general issue of Visual Studies leans on several areas of dialogue regarding how visual methods can support a more diverse, engaged, and creative scholarship. Three bodies of work constitute the issue: a collection of articles on video ethnography and documentary practice; the translations in English of two essays initially published in Hebrew by Ruthie Ginsburg and Regev Nathansohn, and accompanied by an introductory essay by Simon Faulkner (Manchester Metropolitan University); and a series of short essays in remembrance of Howard Becker (1928–2023) commissioned by the journal.
The flow of manuscripts that are submitted for publication in Visual Studies often highlights, in a given period, methodological trends and research interests that are particularly vibrant within our community of authors and readers. In this vein, the current issue features a collection of articles that explore video ethnography and filmmaking as an engaged methodology. As a worked example of how film ethnography may contribute to community-based action (Brown, Mfeka-Nkabinde et al.), including the use of mobile video in participatory research (Mfeka-Nkabinde et al., Mondada), these articles echo broader considerations regarding how video ethnography help make visible understudied forms of violence and social inequalities (Colucci; Mfeka-Nkabinde et al.) and advances research methods through innovative know-how, skills and analytical perspectives (especially Washiya).
Building on previously translated material (2020, issue #35.4), this issue also unfolds a dialogue between two translated essays that discuss the visual politics of, and citizen photography under, the Israeli occupation (respectively by Regev Nathansohn and Ruthie Ginsburg). Translations published in Visual Studies aim at further spotlighting essays in foreign languages that deeply marked the field of visual scholarship, and/or helped to unveil an unknown topic in non-English-speaking countries. Through a strong takeaway, the two articles translated in this issue contribute to make the journal an inclusive forum for politically and scholarly important research. First published in 2018, Ruthie Ginsburg’s article, passing cameras to Palestinian citizens (i.e. a project initiated during the first Intifada in the 1990s) became a significant shift in how Israelis and, later, international audiences, were presented with the everydayness of the occupation. While Ginsburg compares photography done by non-professional photographers in the fields of journalism, human rights, and participatory projects, a very common trope of everyday citizen journalism, Regev Nathansohn's essay (initially published in 2007) explores ways to capture and analyse the visual account of the Israeli occupation in rupture with how the war is depicted by mainstream media. Through a classification of three modes of photographic practice (‘banal’, ‘aesthetic’, and ‘transgressive’), Nathansohn revisits the pictorial manufacture of oppressive political regimes.
As Simon Faulkner emphasises in his essay, the visibility of the Israeli occupation of the West Bank (and Gaza in particular) has been instrumental in how scholars have discussed the political role of images in Palestine/Israel within the past 20 years. The original publication in Hebrew of both articles aimed at addressing a specific audience concerned by the representational politics of the Israeli occupation, more than at reaching a global readership for the sake of academic credit. While, a few weeks before this issue went into production, students from Sapir College (Israel) called for Regev Nathansohn to be dismissed from his position for having signed an ‘Academics4Peace’ petition, these translated articles ask us to further reflect on an important question: ‘What role will visual practices and images play in [the] process of [political] transformation’ in the ongoing conflict? (Faulkner).
For a great many of us in the International Visual Sociology Association and, more broadly, in visual scholarship, Howard (Howie) Becker modelled what it was to be an engaged social researcher and intellectual. Over the years, he continued to inspire us with each of his insightful books. We would like to remember Howie not only for ourselves but also for the coming generations of researchers who may not have known him, although they may be influenced by his work in ways they may not fully appreciate. Because we were eager to remember Howie and his influence in a Visual Studies issue, we called for brief personal testimonies on what Howie meant and did for our members, with a particular focus on his role as a mentor, colleague, and teacher. We hope these four essays (John Grady; Doug Harper; Deborah Brandt, Mima Cataldo and Timothy Curry; and Jon Wagner) will help continue discussions around Howie’s important heritage, including beyond our journal. We especially would like to thank Dianne Hagaman, Howie’s widow, for her photographs of Howie, and assistance in preparing this section of the issue. The cover image for this issue, brilliantly designed in 2015 by Simon Prades for an issue of The New Yorker, featuring a conversation between Howie and Adam Gopnik, is another way to render a homage to how Howie has inspired so many of us. Dianne Hagaman has kindly provided us with a comment about this interview for The New Yorker, which we are reproducing below.
Howie began reading articles from The New Yorker aloud to me soon after we married. It began as a way to help me get to sleep because I was anxious about starting a new job, but it continued over the years because we both loved it.
Adam Gopnik was the Paris correspondent for The New Yorker for five years in the late 1990s and Howie always read his pieces to me. We lived in San Francisco but Paris was one of our favourite cities and in 2000 we began spending three months every autumn there. One day, in October 2014, Howie asked me to look at an email he received out of the blue from Adam Gopnik, who we had never met, saying that he would be in San Francisco soon and would like to interview Howie for a profile in the magazine. We looked at the email address and it was yahoo.com. Wouldn’t the real Adam Gopnik be writing with a newyorker.com address or something like that? Besides we weren’t in San Francisco anyway, so Howie responded that he was in Paris. Then Adam responded that ‘by coincidence’ he would soon be in Paris too. Quite a coincidence. We weren’t sure we were actually dealing with the real Adam Gopnik, but Howie wrote back and they made a date: Adam would come to our apartment, 10 rue Broca, 6th floor, on October 22 at 11am. If it was a practical joke by one of our friends, it was a fun one. When ‘Adam’ arrived, I buzzed him into our building. Howie and I stood in our apartment doorway and watched a man get out of the elevator – it was Adam. We really wanted to laugh but we didn’t, we were cool.
Adam was charming and very knowledgeable about Howie’s work – it was evident in his questions and his comments. We sat in the living room talking for over an hour and then Adam invited us to lunch. I declined, figuring it would be a good thing for Adam to have Howie all to himself for a while. It was a good call. They had a lively conversation and came away with a lot of respect for each other. We didn’t tell anyone about all this except Howie’s daughter, Alison. Many of our friends subscribed to the New Yorker and we thought it would be a nice surprise. But we also knew it was no sure thing it would get published. It’s not unusual for stories to get ‘bumped’ or even ‘killed’ for bigger or more timely events. But it was written – the New Yorker fact checker called and went over everything with Howie. Then Adam wrote and told us when it would appear. It was an intelligent piece and a nice experience and Howie loved the illustration that went with it.
Dianne Hagaman, 2024.
Credit: Simon Prades, 2015.