“Steve McCurry Retrospective” at Birmingham Museum (UK)
Snapped in 1984 at the Nasir Bagh Afghani refugee camp in Pakistan during the Soviet-Afghan War, the famous “Afghan Girl” photograph shot its subject and creator to international fame when it graced the cover of National Geographic magazine in 1985. The young Pashtun orphan lifted to iconic status remained anonymous until 2002, however, when the Magnum photographer Steve McCurry located her. And now, for the first time in the UK, McCurry’s “Afghan Girl”, together with the story of his meeting with Sharbat Gula, is included among approximately 80 stills in the photojournalist’s retrospective at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery’s Waterhall.
The collection represents the American’s work in South Asia and, to a lesser degree, South America over the twenty-five-plus years that followed his breakthrough and is the sole venue for this exclusive showing. The 2002 National Geographic film narrated by Sigourney Weaver, Search for the Afghan Girl, is on continuous play at the back of the gallery and is available for purchase after its release was timed to coincide with the exhibition.
McCurry said in a recent interview that the “Afghan Girl” was far from his best work. Asked what exactly is, he told ticket-holders at “An Evening With…” on Friday that he considers the burning Gulf oil wells (Kuwait, 1991) to be his most dramatic story. Sadly, though, these images – together with statues of Buddha in Bamiyan, Afghanistan (1992, 1993), and Bamiyan minus the ancient Buddhist statues (2002, 2007) – are not on display.
As fortunate as gallery-goes are to see “the most recognized photograph” in the history of National Geographic; the procession of Nuns in Rangoon, Burma (1994) which illuminates McCurry’s mastery of colour; villagers participating in the Holi Festival, Rajasthan, India (1996) which capture the beautiful in day-to-day experiences; and the tranquility of Dal Lake (1996) which illustrates his compelling take on the much-disputed Indian state, Kashmir, the omission of children in a Kabul classroom (2003) is an unfortunate one.
Do not get me wrong, the above-mentioned photographs demonstrate that McCurry’s comprehension of local politics has enabled him to capture the dignity of people in uncertain times. Yet, the portrait that features a painting of the “Afghan Girl” on the classroom wall might have made critics who say McCurry’s work extends colonialist aims by utilizing the power of the photographic medium possibly think twice.
The reason behind such thinking dates back to 1978 and the publication of Orientalism. Although Bernard Lewis was ahead of Edward Said in drawing attention to prejudicial representations, it is widely believed that the Palestinian scholar introduced readers to the idea of Western representations of the non-Western Other and encouraged them to discover colonialist subtexts. Linda Steet is one author who, in Veils and Daggers: A Century of National Geographic’s Representation of the Arab World (2000), challenges the magazine’s claims to objectivity and unpacks the ideological perspectives that guided the journal throughout its illustrious history.
This has led to further scholarly debate surrounding the magazine’s photo stories (Andrew L. Mendelson and Fabienne Darling-Wolf, “Readers’ interpretations of visual and verbal narratives of a National Geographic story on Saudi Arabia”, Journalism). Even U.S. aid is called into question (Rae Lynn Schwartz-DuPre,“Portraying the Political: National Geographic’s 1985 Afghan Girl and U.S. Alibi for Aid”, Critical Studies in Media Communication).
The National Geographic film, Search for the Afghan Girl, is similarly caught in the crosshairs and viewed in some quarters as a “colonial discovery plot ... intersected by the contemporary demands of security” (Suvendrini Perera, “The impossible refuge of western desire”, Lines-Magazine). Yet the DVD, lest we forget, was used as a springboard for a very successful fund-raising campaign on behalf of Afghan children’s education.
Since the medium of photography information is conveyed in a way that cuts across language barriers, then, and, in this case, a cause for good, could not a case be made for less talk of a charitable patron overriding indigenous cultural norms (as important as they evidently are) to provide for those needs and more talk of the results on the ground?
I say this for the simple reason that, not only did National Geographic compensate Sharbat Gula for her time in 2002 (with medical treatment for her husband and a sewing machine for one of her daughters), but – given the 30-year-old’s wish that her three daughters receive an education that she was never able to complete – it set up a charitable organization known as the Afghan Girls Fund (AGF) to assist in addressing the educational system after the comings and goings of the Soviets and the Taliban during the 1980s and 1990s respectively.
In a statement the journal said: “Because Sharbat Gula has come to symbolize the suffering of an entire generation of Afghan women and their children, the National Geographic Society [NGS] is creating a special fund to assist in the development and delivery of educational opportunities for young Afghan women and girls.”
In May 2008, the NGS transitioned the charity to the Afghan Children’s Fund (ACF) so that their grant-making efforts would serve all young people in Afghanistan – both girls and boys. The ACF replaced the AGF, a successful initiative that raised more than $1,000,000 since its inception. The scope of support has also been widened to accommodate Afghan refugee children who live in Pakistan.
This is to say nothing of McCurry’s non-profit organization, ImagineAsia, which works in tandem with local leaders and non-governmental organizations to assist Afghan communities provide fundamental educational and health care resources. Speaking about the project recently, McCurry informs us that one of its latest initiatives is Books for Bamiyan and the collecting of storybooks for elementary and middle school children.
Notwithstanding the incorrect year being affixed to one of the photographs (“Girl in Green Shawl,” Peshawar, Pakistan, 2002) and the fact that exhibition illustrations, prints and books are grossly overpriced, this free sensational, non-sensationalist exhibition of legendary lensman McCurry is the best show of 2010.
“Steve McCurry Retrospective” at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, Waterhall, runs until 17 October.
The collection represents the American’s work in South Asia and, to a lesser degree, South America over the twenty-five-plus years that followed his breakthrough and is the sole venue for this exclusive showing. The 2002 National Geographic film narrated by Sigourney Weaver, Search for the Afghan Girl, is on continuous play at the back of the gallery and is available for purchase after its release was timed to coincide with the exhibition.
McCurry said in a recent interview that the “Afghan Girl” was far from his best work. Asked what exactly is, he told ticket-holders at “An Evening With…” on Friday that he considers the burning Gulf oil wells (Kuwait, 1991) to be his most dramatic story. Sadly, though, these images – together with statues of Buddha in Bamiyan, Afghanistan (1992, 1993), and Bamiyan minus the ancient Buddhist statues (2002, 2007) – are not on display.
As fortunate as gallery-goes are to see “the most recognized photograph” in the history of National Geographic; the procession of Nuns in Rangoon, Burma (1994) which illuminates McCurry’s mastery of colour; villagers participating in the Holi Festival, Rajasthan, India (1996) which capture the beautiful in day-to-day experiences; and the tranquility of Dal Lake (1996) which illustrates his compelling take on the much-disputed Indian state, Kashmir, the omission of children in a Kabul classroom (2003) is an unfortunate one.
Do not get me wrong, the above-mentioned photographs demonstrate that McCurry’s comprehension of local politics has enabled him to capture the dignity of people in uncertain times. Yet, the portrait that features a painting of the “Afghan Girl” on the classroom wall might have made critics who say McCurry’s work extends colonialist aims by utilizing the power of the photographic medium possibly think twice.
The reason behind such thinking dates back to 1978 and the publication of Orientalism. Although Bernard Lewis was ahead of Edward Said in drawing attention to prejudicial representations, it is widely believed that the Palestinian scholar introduced readers to the idea of Western representations of the non-Western Other and encouraged them to discover colonialist subtexts. Linda Steet is one author who, in Veils and Daggers: A Century of National Geographic’s Representation of the Arab World (2000), challenges the magazine’s claims to objectivity and unpacks the ideological perspectives that guided the journal throughout its illustrious history.
This has led to further scholarly debate surrounding the magazine’s photo stories (Andrew L. Mendelson and Fabienne Darling-Wolf, “Readers’ interpretations of visual and verbal narratives of a National Geographic story on Saudi Arabia”, Journalism). Even U.S. aid is called into question (Rae Lynn Schwartz-DuPre,“Portraying the Political: National Geographic’s 1985 Afghan Girl and U.S. Alibi for Aid”, Critical Studies in Media Communication).
The National Geographic film, Search for the Afghan Girl, is similarly caught in the crosshairs and viewed in some quarters as a “colonial discovery plot ... intersected by the contemporary demands of security” (Suvendrini Perera, “The impossible refuge of western desire”, Lines-Magazine). Yet the DVD, lest we forget, was used as a springboard for a very successful fund-raising campaign on behalf of Afghan children’s education.
Since the medium of photography information is conveyed in a way that cuts across language barriers, then, and, in this case, a cause for good, could not a case be made for less talk of a charitable patron overriding indigenous cultural norms (as important as they evidently are) to provide for those needs and more talk of the results on the ground?
I say this for the simple reason that, not only did National Geographic compensate Sharbat Gula for her time in 2002 (with medical treatment for her husband and a sewing machine for one of her daughters), but – given the 30-year-old’s wish that her three daughters receive an education that she was never able to complete – it set up a charitable organization known as the Afghan Girls Fund (AGF) to assist in addressing the educational system after the comings and goings of the Soviets and the Taliban during the 1980s and 1990s respectively.
In a statement the journal said: “Because Sharbat Gula has come to symbolize the suffering of an entire generation of Afghan women and their children, the National Geographic Society [NGS] is creating a special fund to assist in the development and delivery of educational opportunities for young Afghan women and girls.”
In May 2008, the NGS transitioned the charity to the Afghan Children’s Fund (ACF) so that their grant-making efforts would serve all young people in Afghanistan – both girls and boys. The ACF replaced the AGF, a successful initiative that raised more than $1,000,000 since its inception. The scope of support has also been widened to accommodate Afghan refugee children who live in Pakistan.
This is to say nothing of McCurry’s non-profit organization, ImagineAsia, which works in tandem with local leaders and non-governmental organizations to assist Afghan communities provide fundamental educational and health care resources. Speaking about the project recently, McCurry informs us that one of its latest initiatives is Books for Bamiyan and the collecting of storybooks for elementary and middle school children.
Notwithstanding the incorrect year being affixed to one of the photographs (“Girl in Green Shawl,” Peshawar, Pakistan, 2002) and the fact that exhibition illustrations, prints and books are grossly overpriced, this free sensational, non-sensationalist exhibition of legendary lensman McCurry is the best show of 2010.
“Steve McCurry Retrospective” at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, Waterhall, runs until 17 October.