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The Daily Star, Lebanon
Dec 6 2004
Iran: A tumultuous time captured in Isfahan's portrait photography
Hundreds of images and thorough research produce a unique documentary
of a nation in transition, 1920-1950
By Kaelen Wilson-Goldie
Daily Star staff
BEIRUT: In one picture, a young woman strikes a playful pose in a
photographer's studio. With lustrous black hair and a coy smile, she
wears a man's suit jacket over a full-skirted white dress. She has one
hand plunged rakishly into her pocket and one hip extended suggestively
toward the camera. Exaggerating the feminine and masculine attributes
of body language, her stance is that of a dancer and gangster at once.
In another, three men face the camera with hands clasped respectfully
behind their backs. Two are formally dressed and standing a few
steps back. The other, in the foreground, is bare-chested and built
like a truck. The triangular set-up is rigged to show off one man's
athletic prowess, as the depth of field makes the flanking men seem
tiny in comparison.
In yet another, a wedding portrait captures a blissful bride and groom
with hands held delicately in the center of the frame. The standing
groom smiles down on his sitting bride, who directs her peaceful
gaze off camera. The photograph seems to be a study in matrimonial
convention until you realize that both subjects are women. An early
example of women dressed in drag, the groom's voluminous tuxedo
jacket camouflages her breasts, her hair is swept up under a hat,
and a fake moustache adorns her upper lip.
These are portrait photographs from Isfahan, three among the hundreds
that have been published in a new book by Iranian artist, academic
and activist Parisa Damandan. "Portrait Photographs from Isfahan:
Faces in Transition, 1920-1950" focuses on a tight but tumultuous time
frame, when Iran was undergoing rapid social, political and economic
transformation. Damandan, who was born in Isfahan and remembers her
own early experiments with having her picture taken by a professional
photographer, returned to her hometown to find evidence of the
old studios and commercial practices that once flourished in the
ancient city.
The book resulting from her research reveals as much about how
photographers worked in the first half of the 20th century as it does
about how people in those times saw themselves, how they constructed
their identities before the camera and, in turn, how the identity of
a nation took shape, fell apart and reformed against a backdrop of
industrialization, modernity, political change and looming revolution
and upheaval.
"My age and the generation I belong to [is] a link between this
period and now," explains Damandan, taking a break from her work to
answer questions by e-mail about her book. "There is evidence that
is still alive - existing, forgotten and endangered archives. I have
studied the history of photography before this period, and [I have]
followed the traces back to the appearance of photography in Iran,
and soon after in Isfahan.
"The main part of my collection of photographs dates back to 1920
to 1950. It is an important period, as the country is changing from
traditional to modern and industrial, and there are also a lot of
changes in the faces and in portrait photography itself."
The period is also important, she adds, because "portrait photography
became popular in this period in Iran, almost a century after the
1850s when it became popular in Europe."
Damandan studied photography at the University of Tehran in the late
80's and early 90's. She mounted a few exhibitions of her own work in
Iran, the U.K. and the Netherlands, but soon devoted all her time to
more academic research on photo-portraiture. The legwork for "Portrait
Photographs from Isfahan" began with her undergraduate thesis. And
over the past 10 years, Damandan has not only written a great deal on
the subject, she has also assembled traveling exhibitions and amassed
an impressive personal collection of archival images.
"Portrait Photographs from Isfahan" introduces readers to the lives
of such photographers as Minas Patkerhanian Mackertich (an Armenian
who learned how to take pictures in India before settling in Isfahan)
and his son Vahan (who took Damandan's baby pictures in the late
60's). Damandan traces the development of Isfahan's portrait studios,
following the well-worn story of photography's evolution overall (from
an expensive practice reserved for the elite to a more affordable
commodity accessible to the middle classes) and in light of the
particular modifications made to that narrative in Iran.
To this, Damandan adds the story of a city, a country and a people.
The book is full of surprises - cross-dressing women, Isfahan's
community of Russian prostitutes and the flood of Polish refugees
who took up temporary residence in Iran during World War II. And it
captures telling evidence of changing times - women casting off and
taking up the veil, the significance of gymnasiums as a social space
in men's lives, family configurations, gender roles at social events
and the growth of industry (textile factories, workers on strike) that
is evident both on the landscape and in the photographs themselves.
In addition to Damandan's narrative, "Portrait Photographs from
Isfahan" includes essays by Iranian writer Reza Sheikh (who looks at
the relationship between portraiture and democracy) and Dutch writer
Josephine van Bennekom (who explores the differences between and
encounters among Iranian and European portraiture). These texts are
embedded with ideas that warrant further research. Yet the pictures
lend themselves to endless interpretation, raising a number of pressing
issues about the collection and study of historical photography.
"I have gathered more than 50,000 photographs," says Damandan. "I am
keeping them in my personal archive at home, not in a good situation.
Most of them are glass-plate negatives and are very fragile and need
to be preserved in particular conditions of temperature and moisture."
Searching for images like these is often an act of salvaging prints
and negatives from age, time, ruin and decay. But once they are
found, how can they be preserved? And who should take charge of such
efforts? The photographs Damandan has unearthed reveal a great deal
about Iran's past, but to what extent do such archives constitute
cultural patrimony? Are they a part of a nation's heritage? And if so,
who has the right or responsibility to protect them?
"There is no special organization yet in Iran to be responsible for
such archives," explains Damandan. "And we don't have a photographic
museum."
What's more, the book itself - as a portable representation of
Damandan's collection - is unavailable in Iran: "Unfortunately,
the book couldn't be published in Iran because of the portraits of
unveiled women," she says. "It won't be distributed in Iran, so the
book really can't be seen here." Damandan is hoping to place the book
in a few libraries, so that students will have access to it and in
hopes that it will provoke further research.
The fact that her work can't be shown in Iran hasn't diminished
Damandan's efforts.
"Wherever I travel in Iran, I am usually curious to find the origins of
portrait photography," she says. "I have spent some time in Kurdistan
for this reason, and I am busy with a project in Bam, again making
my research."
Seventy-two hours after a massive earthquake struck the southeastern
city in December 2003, Damandan arrived on the scene to help. For
the past 10 years she has been involved with a Dutch organization,
AIDA (Association International de Defense des Artistes), which
she describes as a second home. When she got to Bam, she realized
she wasn't the best person to help rescue workers pry bodies from
fallen buildings. But she was qualified to save the city's copious
photo archives. (She met a woman whose two sons had been killed in
the quake, one had been married the day before, and his mother was
hoping to find his wedding pictures among the rubble.) So she secured
support from AIDA to fund a rescue mission of a different sort.
"The first time I went," says Damandan, "I started to dig out photo
studios which were ruined in the disaster. I dug out six archives
and have made several trips until now. Later, I will work on these
archives, clean them and make a new archive ... I am focusing on
making a memorial photo wall in Bam," she adds, and next year, she
will begin working on another book. It promises to be more somber
than "Portrait Photographs from Isfahan" but it will no doubt prove
as valuable - and as fascinating - an archive.
Parisa Damandan's "Portrait Photographs from Isfahan" is published
by Saqi Books and the Prince Claus Fund for Culture and Development.
Dec 6 2004
Iran: A tumultuous time captured in Isfahan's portrait photography
Hundreds of images and thorough research produce a unique documentary
of a nation in transition, 1920-1950
By Kaelen Wilson-Goldie
Daily Star staff
BEIRUT: In one picture, a young woman strikes a playful pose in a
photographer's studio. With lustrous black hair and a coy smile, she
wears a man's suit jacket over a full-skirted white dress. She has one
hand plunged rakishly into her pocket and one hip extended suggestively
toward the camera. Exaggerating the feminine and masculine attributes
of body language, her stance is that of a dancer and gangster at once.
In another, three men face the camera with hands clasped respectfully
behind their backs. Two are formally dressed and standing a few
steps back. The other, in the foreground, is bare-chested and built
like a truck. The triangular set-up is rigged to show off one man's
athletic prowess, as the depth of field makes the flanking men seem
tiny in comparison.
In yet another, a wedding portrait captures a blissful bride and groom
with hands held delicately in the center of the frame. The standing
groom smiles down on his sitting bride, who directs her peaceful
gaze off camera. The photograph seems to be a study in matrimonial
convention until you realize that both subjects are women. An early
example of women dressed in drag, the groom's voluminous tuxedo
jacket camouflages her breasts, her hair is swept up under a hat,
and a fake moustache adorns her upper lip.
These are portrait photographs from Isfahan, three among the hundreds
that have been published in a new book by Iranian artist, academic
and activist Parisa Damandan. "Portrait Photographs from Isfahan:
Faces in Transition, 1920-1950" focuses on a tight but tumultuous time
frame, when Iran was undergoing rapid social, political and economic
transformation. Damandan, who was born in Isfahan and remembers her
own early experiments with having her picture taken by a professional
photographer, returned to her hometown to find evidence of the
old studios and commercial practices that once flourished in the
ancient city.
The book resulting from her research reveals as much about how
photographers worked in the first half of the 20th century as it does
about how people in those times saw themselves, how they constructed
their identities before the camera and, in turn, how the identity of
a nation took shape, fell apart and reformed against a backdrop of
industrialization, modernity, political change and looming revolution
and upheaval.
"My age and the generation I belong to [is] a link between this
period and now," explains Damandan, taking a break from her work to
answer questions by e-mail about her book. "There is evidence that
is still alive - existing, forgotten and endangered archives. I have
studied the history of photography before this period, and [I have]
followed the traces back to the appearance of photography in Iran,
and soon after in Isfahan.
"The main part of my collection of photographs dates back to 1920
to 1950. It is an important period, as the country is changing from
traditional to modern and industrial, and there are also a lot of
changes in the faces and in portrait photography itself."
The period is also important, she adds, because "portrait photography
became popular in this period in Iran, almost a century after the
1850s when it became popular in Europe."
Damandan studied photography at the University of Tehran in the late
80's and early 90's. She mounted a few exhibitions of her own work in
Iran, the U.K. and the Netherlands, but soon devoted all her time to
more academic research on photo-portraiture. The legwork for "Portrait
Photographs from Isfahan" began with her undergraduate thesis. And
over the past 10 years, Damandan has not only written a great deal on
the subject, she has also assembled traveling exhibitions and amassed
an impressive personal collection of archival images.
"Portrait Photographs from Isfahan" introduces readers to the lives
of such photographers as Minas Patkerhanian Mackertich (an Armenian
who learned how to take pictures in India before settling in Isfahan)
and his son Vahan (who took Damandan's baby pictures in the late
60's). Damandan traces the development of Isfahan's portrait studios,
following the well-worn story of photography's evolution overall (from
an expensive practice reserved for the elite to a more affordable
commodity accessible to the middle classes) and in light of the
particular modifications made to that narrative in Iran.
To this, Damandan adds the story of a city, a country and a people.
The book is full of surprises - cross-dressing women, Isfahan's
community of Russian prostitutes and the flood of Polish refugees
who took up temporary residence in Iran during World War II. And it
captures telling evidence of changing times - women casting off and
taking up the veil, the significance of gymnasiums as a social space
in men's lives, family configurations, gender roles at social events
and the growth of industry (textile factories, workers on strike) that
is evident both on the landscape and in the photographs themselves.
In addition to Damandan's narrative, "Portrait Photographs from
Isfahan" includes essays by Iranian writer Reza Sheikh (who looks at
the relationship between portraiture and democracy) and Dutch writer
Josephine van Bennekom (who explores the differences between and
encounters among Iranian and European portraiture). These texts are
embedded with ideas that warrant further research. Yet the pictures
lend themselves to endless interpretation, raising a number of pressing
issues about the collection and study of historical photography.
"I have gathered more than 50,000 photographs," says Damandan. "I am
keeping them in my personal archive at home, not in a good situation.
Most of them are glass-plate negatives and are very fragile and need
to be preserved in particular conditions of temperature and moisture."
Searching for images like these is often an act of salvaging prints
and negatives from age, time, ruin and decay. But once they are
found, how can they be preserved? And who should take charge of such
efforts? The photographs Damandan has unearthed reveal a great deal
about Iran's past, but to what extent do such archives constitute
cultural patrimony? Are they a part of a nation's heritage? And if so,
who has the right or responsibility to protect them?
"There is no special organization yet in Iran to be responsible for
such archives," explains Damandan. "And we don't have a photographic
museum."
What's more, the book itself - as a portable representation of
Damandan's collection - is unavailable in Iran: "Unfortunately,
the book couldn't be published in Iran because of the portraits of
unveiled women," she says. "It won't be distributed in Iran, so the
book really can't be seen here." Damandan is hoping to place the book
in a few libraries, so that students will have access to it and in
hopes that it will provoke further research.
The fact that her work can't be shown in Iran hasn't diminished
Damandan's efforts.
"Wherever I travel in Iran, I am usually curious to find the origins of
portrait photography," she says. "I have spent some time in Kurdistan
for this reason, and I am busy with a project in Bam, again making
my research."
Seventy-two hours after a massive earthquake struck the southeastern
city in December 2003, Damandan arrived on the scene to help. For
the past 10 years she has been involved with a Dutch organization,
AIDA (Association International de Defense des Artistes), which
she describes as a second home. When she got to Bam, she realized
she wasn't the best person to help rescue workers pry bodies from
fallen buildings. But she was qualified to save the city's copious
photo archives. (She met a woman whose two sons had been killed in
the quake, one had been married the day before, and his mother was
hoping to find his wedding pictures among the rubble.) So she secured
support from AIDA to fund a rescue mission of a different sort.
"The first time I went," says Damandan, "I started to dig out photo
studios which were ruined in the disaster. I dug out six archives
and have made several trips until now. Later, I will work on these
archives, clean them and make a new archive ... I am focusing on
making a memorial photo wall in Bam," she adds, and next year, she
will begin working on another book. It promises to be more somber
than "Portrait Photographs from Isfahan" but it will no doubt prove
as valuable - and as fascinating - an archive.
Parisa Damandan's "Portrait Photographs from Isfahan" is published
by Saqi Books and the Prince Claus Fund for Culture and Development.