Just Another Flag

     

       The iconic World War Two image brings several ideas to mind. Firstly, the content of the image is a classic scene of victory. The act of soldiers planting the American flag on foreign soil is a tale of triumph that the photographer set out to capture. The stars and stripes waving freely in the wind stirs the patriot in all of us.

            The angle of this photo is crucial. It gives the location as a high place by showing the hills lower in the distance. Even more importantly it takes the other elements out of the picture. By filling a majority of the scene with a clouded, smoky sky, it brings the focus downward and makes the centered flag ‘pop.’ Yet the angle still allows the bottom of the photograph to display both rugged terrain and wreckage to insinuate the previous uphill battle. It also gives the photo a floor as a point of reference.

            Given the age of the photograph, there wasn’t much option to take a color photograph. The photographer also used a vantage point that put the men in front of a primarily light colored background, again forcing them to stand out. The immensity of the differences in shades makes them almost silhouette-like at first glance. Their faces are not shown as if their individual identities didn’t matter. They were soldiers.

            The picture can only be assumed to have been taken in the act of raising the flag based on the man to the far left. His hands are outstretched toward the flagpole, but not touching. Rather than assume his aid came through telekinesis, it’s easier to imagine that he lifted it as far as he could and had only just let go. He also serves to complete the rough geometric shape that the soldiers’ bodies form. They make a triangle, which in so many subliminal ways makes an arrow. It points upward, bringing the focus back to Old Glory.

            The man to the furthest right brings attention to himself because of the variance in his stance and being physically apart from the others. Were it not for the gap between him and the other men, the shot would seem all too one-sided. His oddness brings an evenness from left to right.

            In my mind the greatest dynamic of this photograph is its content, but soldiers and flags have been photographed for as long as we’ve had the capabilities. So I have to believe that through some use of technique this one stands out amongst all the others for a good reason.

Dorothea Lange Photo

Admittedly I have no idea what makes a great photograph. I understand how lighting can be good or bad. I recognize a photographer’s intent in what they include in a picture and that there is reason in every angle taken, but for the life of me, I can’t separate art from the images a four year takes while trying to burn up the last couple of shots from a disposable camera. The realist inside of me is adamant that not every still shot has deeper meaning. Yet if there is anything inside of me that resembles an artist, he can see more in this photograph. The first thing I see is pride.

The plantation owner stands in front of his field hands by no mere accident. It is an elevating position in that it brings the most immediate attention and makes him appear larger. His foot is equally deliberate in its placement on the rear of a car. From their first introduction into society, fine automobiles have proven potent status symbols. While not much of the car can be seen, in 1936 having one at all meant something. His foot isn’t alone in determining his body language. His hands are not humbly tucked into his pockets or holding themselves defensively. His body language serves to imply ownership of the car, the men behind him, and his status.

The field hands aren’t shown in an entirely similar manner. One is standing. They have different styles of hats. They have different colors of clothing. The differences speak in a small way to the individuals being individuals. On the other hand, the similarities cannot go unnoticed. They’re not shown working in the field, but lounging in a moment of rest. From their positioning, they all seem to share the same feeling towards where they are. They look more obligated than overjoyed. One of the most obvious facts of the photograph is that the field hands are all black.

The blatancy of their skin color is largely made by the complete opposition to the plantation owner’s skin color, but also comes from the background. To me the background raises more questions than it answers. It looks to me to be a store. I can imagine how the plantation owner would bring his field hands in with him to pick up supplies and stop outside for a quick conversation and photo. What I wonder is why the photographer would have chosen the building as the entirety of the background. I can’t help but to wonder if it’s because the building does inspire me to create that scenario and, if that is the case, if that is what makes a photograph a work of art.

Why I Write

I write because I can't sing. I write because I can't trip over the letters of the written word while trying to articulate a point. Moreover I write because I have a story tell. There is no other method of storytelling which can hope to delve into the imagination with as much or as little detail as the originator desired to convey. The written word remains unchanged as it passes from person to person, maintaining its message, humor, or meaning through time. A movie could never hope to describe feelings or thoughts as deeply. I write so as to hold my meaning, to let others interpret only what I leave up to interpretation, and to entertain. After all, who doesn’t love a well-written piece?