2009 FIRST SIGHT, FIRST THOUGHT, FIRST NARRATIVE?

? Reflections on First Sight Images the Lijiang project August 2009 By Metje Postma Translated into Chinese by Bao Jiang

 T. S. 5 . . And so each venture Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate With shabby equipment always deteriorating In the general mess of imprecision of feeling, Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer By strength and submission, has already been discovered Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope To emulatebut there is no competition There is only the fight to recover what has been lost And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss. For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business. T.S.EliotFour Quartets, "East Coker," V

Interpretation is the revenge of the intellectual upon art. Susan Sontag

 2009 4 It all started with the exiting plan of Bao Jiang, to take advantage of the presence of at least 10 Chinese and international colleagues in Visual Anthropology who had gathered for the IUAES Conference in Kunming in July 2009, to see how we could compare our different visions, by taking us all to the same place. The experiment consisted of exploring how each of us would perceive the UNESCO world heritage site: Lijiang, in Yunnan province in Western China. We would stay in the town independently for 4 days and find a way to engage with it. It would be purely a field-experience, and we would all present a media-production that would give expression to how we had gone about perceiving Lijiang at First Sightcombined with a relevant reflection on the experience. I decided to take a nave stance, without referring to theoretical discourses on perception and visual learning. What I wanted to try to do here was to become aware of my perceptions, and significations. To explore my own process of getting to know Lijiang at First Sight. As a reflective tool, I used photography. What are the basic epistemological principles of visual learning, and how is our perception and experience formed by our socialisation and intentionality? And how does the self-identification as an ethnographer play a role in all that. In anthropology, we accept that our different socio-cultural and individual backgrounds and intentions are significant for what and how we perceive the world, and for what we are interested in. Here we had an opportunity to enter in a close to living laboratory situation, where I imagined, we as ethnographers were the subjects of research. How different would we perceive Lijiang, or would our choices for what we were interested in be, and how would our interpretations of what we perceived differ, and how would our images or other mediations communicate those differences, and what could be the role of the media in exploring our First Sight?

 i The principle ethnographic research method of ethnography is participant observation. We accept that it takes a long time until we as aethnographers become socialized in the community of research, but we seldom reflect on how our perception, especially our vision, works and transforms at the start of that process, how our sensorial schemes change, and how we go about our own clumsy ways to gradually learn to know our new environment. To what extend do we really succeed to blend our visions with that of local people, as Malinowski (1923:25)ii set out the goal of ethnography : to learn to see his vision of his world? How do we learn to perceive new things, and how do we embody and signify our new experiences? And when do first impressions start; with our anticipation of what we will experience, our dreams, our questions, the loose stories we have heard in advance, a photograph, an article, a television programme, our first steps in the field, or only in reflection when we interpret our experiences ?

First Sight, more then sight alone.

iii Often, I dont prepare before I enter a new place, unless it is for research-purposes. I like to experience first impressions without preconceived ideas, I dont want my First Sight to already be (in)formed, and signified by others. Of course when performing ethnographic research, thorough preparations are unavoidable and desired. But, in this case I have purposely not prepared for the journey, to allow first sight to be first sight indeed. First Sight, as in: first encounter, or first perceptions, is not only what we see. My very first impressions of Lijiang concern smells

more than sight. When leaving the airport hall, and viewing the hills behind the parking space, I perceive the well known scent of burned coal mixed with that of pine trees. To perceive means according to the dictionaryiv; to become aware or conscious of something. But perception also works on the unconscious level. In a flash, the coal-smell reminds me of winters I spent in England and I jumped back in my memory to the cold cottage rooms, just heated by coal fires, that were never sufficient to make the room feel comfortable. The scent of pine trees brings me back to happy days when I performed research in a small village in the Spanish Pyrenees, walking up the high slopes of the mountains with the local herdsmen and their cows. We would pass through the pine-woods, with its many flies, and then up, across the tree line, to change the cows from the lowlands to the highlands. These memories set an emotional, rather nostalgic, tone. Together with the air that feels fresh and soothing and the pleasant temperature, it sensitises me for the things to come. For here I am in Western China, in a scent-scape from the past anticipating new experiences. 20 The trip in small vans to Lijiang, takes longer than expected. Along the well paved road, women sell peaches that are piled up in cones, like elsewhere. At both sides of the road, hills are extending along the valley. After some 20 minutes drive through this landscape, we enter the modern city. High apartment-buildings, without identity, shops and electricity-lines everywhere. Then the small van starts circling an area that consists of older houses, gates and temples. Grey curled roofs with the (what to me seem) typical Chinese saddle formed rooflines appear. I catch a glimpse of the old city. When finally, the female driver, with a very decisive energy, parks the car at a parking lot, I feel light hearted and exited. 1997 v vi vii The little I know about Lijiang, is that the old city has been inscribed on the world heritage-list of UNESCO in 1997, and that in this region, there are many different nationalities.

Also, the other day, I talked with a girl-student who had told me that she had grown up here, and what had happened to her town, in the years after it became a protected site. How now, the town is taken over by crowds of people, and local people cannot sleep at night because of loud music and voices of the visitors walking the streets at night. Apparantly the soundscape of the place has changed. I thought of her when our group started walking into the old town. As I make an effort to walk on the smooth, wet slippery surfaces of the natural stones under my feet, I feel my lazy muscles strain. It makes me aware that one doesnt only see a new place, one does it. In anthropology, embodiment as sensory, or phenomenological knowledge Merleau Ponty (1945) is now widely accepted as an important part of cultural learning (Goodenough 1967, Bourdieu 1976, Jackson 1996, Michel de Certeau 1980/1984), In our socialisation-process as children, we learn to identify, signify and organize our sensory perceptions through the coding of our cultures. Most theoreticians reject the possibility that one can actually learn a totally new codification of sensory schemes of experiences outside our primary codification especially with regard to how we perceive who we are through how we engage with the world. So when entering into another socio-cultural world, we always start of from our primary sensorial signfications (Stoller 1989viii, Classen 1997, Howes 2003, Classen 2004, Stoller 2004). As an ethnographer our mission is to learn to perceive new experiences of being human in different natural and socio-cultural environments, and especially to try to explore the sensory schemes of those members of the community we study. Yet first we are our own selves, and need to engage with the world of others through our own bodies and minds, to try to experience that new world without the projection of our own significations, and it is this transition that I am interested in with regard to my own engagement with Lijiang, that I will try to reflect on here, without referring to existing discourses.

Space, Place and Trajectories of Discovery

 We enter Xias guesthouse, where our Chinese hosts will stay, through an entrance in a high closed wall that gives access to a small, beautiful court, surrounded by rooms. The chairs are placed against the walls under the windows, facing the court, which is laid in with a mosaic of pebbles and grey-stone. It depicts a crane and a deer with two bat-like animals surrounding it. There are fuchsias dripping with the light, sizzling rain, and other plants stand radiant in their pots around the inner garden. We are seated at small tables, just outside what I consider as grandmothers room. I catch a glimpse of her figure inside. I feel moved as I realize and wonder about how she and many elderly people have lived through the last decennia of Chinas turbulent history. It is dark inside, the curtain is drawn, she sits in a chair, facing the wall and does not pay attention to what is happening outside her room Her cane rests at the door pole. We are served tea in a glass, by Bao Jiang, Some large tealeaves are floating on the surface, and the lady of the house offers us sweets. There are plates with sunflower seeds. We are invited to look around.

I photograph the family-room, there are musical instruments and some heavy chairs of the late Ming-dynasty period (as we are told), placed around the room facing the centre, crafted from ebony, with engraved old characters in the back. Diverse time and space-frames are united here. The lord of the house, shows his family on a photograph: 3 sons and a daughter. I am surprised that he has 4 children. What about the one-child policy ? Nothing is ever what you expect it to be. There is a moment of shared experience. The pride of family and possessions is that of all the

countless families that ever showed me around in their homes. It feels literally, very familiar. It feels like tuning in to a new social aesthetic landscape. I feel5 pleasantly surprised about the creative atmosphere in the house. A bust of Beethoven stands beside a drawing of the courtyard. We wait as Boa Jiang and his friends prepare to take us to our guesthouses. After half an hour they return with a man with a small motor driven vehicle, that will take our luggage. We start moving along the narrow streets that are obviously not made for motored vehicles, and it advances slowly through the crowds. I only realize now, how very touristic this place is. Along the road we take, all building are build in authentic style. Most are shops. These all open to the narrow streets, and look as if they are made for tourists, I see women dressed in different styles of traditional cloths walk along the narrow streets. Old ladies, working, carrying things -that are wrapped up in cloths or tight by strings- on their backs and bicycle carts. They walk with their eyes turned downwards looking unaffected by the tourists. Whilst we walk on, I marvel at this beautiful old town with its traditional architecture. The houses made of natural materials look solid and breath ancienity. Many also look as if they have been recently restored.

 Pretty young girls sit in the shops, wearing traditional dresses, weaving, or just as often talking in their cell-phones that strangely contrasts with the traditional impression they are intended to make.

Other crafts seem not to invite wearing traditional dresses. Silversmiths or leatherworkers, all male, wear modern cloths. Textile is apparently associated with tradition. The shops sell: silverwork, stones and jades, cloths, traditional woven scarfs, teas, medicinal herbs, antiques, herbs, some books, and food. It is all exhibited. As we walk through the streets and pass all those goods, I decide that I will not focus on the whole touristic townscape, in my project. I am interested in real life. Most shopkeepers seem to have different features from local people. They are probably not from here. Some local people have Tibetan features. Some of the people that run the shops look more Chinese, in the sense that their features are similar to those in Beijing etc. Some look utterly bored and unhappy, others are just continuing with their daily lives, talking having fun, and entertaining their friends. Some families are cooking their meals in their shops, or look at tv, or sit with friends, and dont seem to care if they will have any customers.

 As we are gradually all dropped of at different inns, I arrive at the family-inn where I will stay. A large neatly kept court with rooms at ground- and first floor level. They are still preparing my room. I drop my things and say goodbye to Bao Jiang. He is going home. He says his family lives just around the corner. He is from the Naxi community too; the native group in this region, as he tells me. As he leaves I am left to my own initiative to get to know the town. I step out of the large black gate with the two red Chinese lanterns, and return to the street where we came from. I feel anxious and excited at the same time.

 As I cling to the small touristic map that I was given, as to a lifesaving vest., I feel a little ridiculous. I have already travelled so much yet there is always that excitement of not knowing, when arriving in a new place. The location of my guesthouse is indicated in red, and I know that as long as I hold on to the map I will always be able to find my way back to the pension. The map helps to decide what trajectories to take through the townscape, and get a first idea of landmarks and their names. The main roads, the square, the river.I try to build a mental map of this place, gradually combining the map with the experiential knowledge of being here and recognizing the streets and features of places.

ix

 To take action in a strange place one needs to have a modest goal, and at some point to be able to imagine the place like a map, and recognize where one finds oneself. Pierre Bourdieu comes to mind. In his Outline of a Theory of Practice (1977)x he states that ethnographers can only get to know other communities as maps, as they will not be able to get to know it through a similar experience and embodiment as the native. How does native learning relate to guest-learning? Are we here just speaking of becoming of belonging of being socialized in a place that becomes part of a person as his or her identity, not of knowing just as knowledge, but of knowing as phenomenological body-schemes that form part of our identity and our cultural mindscape, a reference of how we learned to get to know the world as a child? As I walk there like a tourist, I incorporate the streets and Lijiang becomes part of me, through my interactions with it. I feel the stones that make the pavement now become part of the sense-memory of my feet, my legs, my eyes, even my ears. When do our experiences become ethnographic? How do we blend participatory/observational knowledge to the knowledge of local people that we try to get to know? To explore the strategies of my own vision, to get to know this town, I make pictures and then I sit, and reflect on my own sight of Lijiang, through viewing the photographs. Through my observations and photographs as selections in space and time, I both interact with the place and explore what Lijiang is to me through taking distance and reflection. How to translate my goal of getting to know the place, into actions? How best to guide myself into learning to see? Dirk Nijland, my teacher would have a small shield on the door of his room with a West African proverb.. It reads: Les yeux dun etranger sont grands ouverts, mais il ne voit que se quil sait (The eyes of a stranger are wide open, but he can only see what he knows) Here is the old dichotomy between knowing and Seeing. What comes first ? When we speak of first Sight, we cannot avoid to speak of consciousness, as we have to become aware of it. Or is First Sight only

real at the moment it is still unconscious? And can photography trap such moments? Does awareness only come as expression of old sight, when we recognize something we know, or can we learn to become aware of new perceptions or forms? My intention is to learn to see new things, and to be aware of how my seeing evolves. What is the role of social interactions for learning to see differently? Ethnographic knowledge is the effort of trying to learn to see how others see and signify their worlds. To see through other peoples eyes. It requires good relationships, the intention to learn and a method to go about it, but above all being human. Before we can get to know peoples visions, however we have to find out what it is we want to research. I head out to the main street to start to get to know the town and as I hope, some of its people.

Animals and Plants

 Smells come to me, of flowers, of incense, of food, and the voices of caged birds singing, canaries, and birds unknown. They are kept in small cages. They draw my attention through their singing, and then, I start to see them everywhere. Many people keep birds and other animals in cages. Perhaps it does not only draw my attention because it is new and interesting but because it is something I feel I am allowed to look at and photograph. It is harder to look at and photograph people, as I have not yet developed relations with people. Gazing has its codes. Gazing intensely at people living their daily lives, is just not done, unless you connect to them, move with them. But gazing at animals is all right. The animals will not feel offended (and if they do, we dont really care), and I can gradually get used to the experience of being there. I ask myself questions: What does the way people deal with animals, say about people ? Why are the animals put on the street ? I notice the many small cages with rabbits, and even a squirl. Streets, trajectories and animals seem a good start for the first steps of making Lijiang part of my experience and of becoming part of Lijiang. Sounds of bells, of singing birds, of many people softly humming or singing openly, sounds of hammers working silver, sounds of the water in the canals and as it rains; streaming of the roofs. The environment is rich in colours, sounds, objects and people.

In one shop fur is sold. Skins of cats and other catlike animals, or perhaps rabbits ? There are

also skins of fox like animals I cant identify . I wonder if people eat cats, like in other parts of China, or what these skins mean to people? I have never seen anyone using cat-skin before. Does it stand for wildness, for wild animals in the rough mountainous region? Did local people tend to wear skins, so that it becomes emblemic for this place?

Flowers, wild, along the many waterways, cultivated in small gardens and painted or carved

on the walls. The dahlias remind me of my grandmothers walled vegetable garden, where I would come when I was three or four years old. My father would continue the tradition, and plant them in his garden. Suddenly in a corner against a white wall, I recognize the sunflowers of Vincent van Gogh, the famous Dutch painter, who often painted sunflowers, and opposite, purple and pink vines that awaken long lost, but suddenly strongly present memories of my youth. The water lilies I associate with China, more than with any other country, as they have a strong symbolic meaning. Each new country creates a new sense-scape of first impressions but may also recall lost memories in all their intensity. The sense of being a child again, of being totally open to the world, takes hold of me for a moment. Visual culture: the lotus, birds and bamboo, pink flowers are carved in wooden shutters. I admire them for their craftsmanship, and for the way nature is celebrated in those carvings. Small dogs. I call them: Chinese dogs. I reflect on the aesthetics of Chinese dogs, so different from the rather coarser types of dogs that I know. Although there are dogs like this in Europe, it seems here there is nothing but these. These look like toys, and they seem to have no other function than to be cute. They dont bark and they dont fight, they just stand, lie down or sit, and they look.

 Townscape

70 Streets and buildings; architecture is the most obvious other theme that draws my attention from the start. The organisation of the streets forces me to move according to its plan. These are the first steps towards embodying Lijiang. The streets determine my movements. Sensorial knowledge is acquired like this. The streets are paved with natural stones, cobbles, small and large, the many water canals of about 70 centimetres wide, along one side of the street speak of an old civilisation. The spring water flows through them, clear and unpolluted. The town is crossed by a wider river. The red painted open stores and above them small galleries with windows, ornamented with carved woodwork and small shutters. The grey elegantly curved corners of the roofs carry seals with Chinese ornamental signs. I am absorbing the aesthetic style and the organisation of the town, and I hope that in 4 days, I will automatically recognize where I am.

 There are small ceramic cats or lions fitted on rooftops on some houses, or on its corners. Again I reflect on the aesthetics of representation, and I wonder if I see them the same as people here ? Does the Chinese style of shaping or painting dogs and cats also reflect how people experience cats and dogs, or should we see it as a style that just says something about a cultural tradition in the arts? These are the unsolvable conundrums of perception.

xi Before anything else, cultural difference is about aesthetics. Leroi Gourhan (1943, 1945,1964, 1965) convincingly showed that many basic forms of instruments are similar whenever they have the same function and have to make use of the same forces. The shape of the axe is similar everywhere. But the ornaments, and the ritual forms in which we find our identity as a group, differs everywhere.

Food, taste and a sense of being there

I walk along Woyzi street in search for something to eat, bodily needs are another great drive for action. A lady is frying a white jelly-like substance. I dont know what it is. I feel like a coward when I pass by her restaurant, without trying. Another day, I tell myself, I am hungry and a little uncertain how to go about things, and not in for taste-experi(ience)ments yet. After 10 minutes I encounter a restaurant at the right side. My attention is drawn to it as it has vegetables placed on a low wall outside. A woman says hello in a friendly energetic and open fashion. She is frying meat, her daughter beside her is accommodating foreign guests as she speaks a little English. The ladys attitude makes me feel at ease. Being a vegetarian, I point out the vegetables I would like to eat. The meal is prepared rapidly and tastes wonderful. The food agrees with me. The taste mixes with the sense of being here, and the place becomes more part of me, now through taste and smell.

After lunch I decide to enter a tea-shop where I am invited to sit at the table and drink a cup of tea. I feel a little uncertain what the conventions of this invitation are. Obviously the kind man wants me to buy tea, but he gestures that I can drink and go at my free will.

Tea is made in a completely different way from the English way I follow at home. A small pot full of tea leaves is filled again and again with boiling water, and then pored out in small glasses. The aroma is very pure, and I am introduced to 3 different sorts of tea. Some more bitter, some more aromatic where smell is more important. I know that the culture of tea is vast here, and considering the extreme prices of some of the tea-types, quite a specialized art.

Material Culture and ideologies I turn back to the shops, and against my earlier decision I look at what is sold and how the merchandize is displayed for us, tourists. If I want to know what Lijiang is about today, I shouldnt exclude this aspect of the town as it is now. Likes and dislikes are dangerous tendencies when exploring new environments. We tend to be drawn to what we like, or what we want to understand, not what we dislike, and think we understand. What we dont recognize gets omitted anyway.

 The posters strike me immediately. I recognize it as the imagery and aesthetics of communist China. Marx and Mao are now on sale in the antique shop. The third man on the poster, I dont recognize. The shop owners sell these symbols of past (?) ideology as antique. Would any Chinese person who has lived through that period buy a poster like this, except perhaps the one of the movie star? I dont think so. Therefore it must be meant for Western tourists. There is no way I can just see these posters at face value. They are emblems of an ideological era in world history, and Chinese history in particular. Does the context in which they are sold betray the bankruptcy of that ideology?

 Antique objects or well made falsifications of ethnographic relics are displayed everywhere. Heroic military emblems lie side by side with religious artefacts in an ironic symbolic incompatibility. The religious and ethnic objects make me wonder if perhaps people that needed money, sold their traditional family-heirlooms, for us tourists, who cannot appreciate their value, to buy. All these artefacts are meant to communicate a complex of cultural meanings that I cannot read. MudraDharma Maos hand is raised in victory whilst the Buddhas right hands mudra gestures Good Fortune and the teaching of Dharma. I use Hindi terms to refer to what I see, as I dont know the Chinese ones. Romanticising communism? It is true, the posters, objects and statues look exotic to me, a curiosity, but I suspect that when they were still potent to communicate Chinas communist ideology, they would not be sold in antique shops. and religious artefacts were not accepted to be displayed. These shops probably would not even exist. Is romanticizing the past possibly a romantic Western thing perhaps.? The commercialization of that sentiment certainly is. Antique shops did most probably not fit in communist State ideology, that was just looking at the glorious future. How ironic that the posters are now hanging here; the context communicates that the images have lost their teeth.

 I notice that I have the tendency to draw the objects of my observations together in one system of meaning, because I project the little I know of Chinas recent history on what I see. I realize that I should keep the option of diversity open, of realities existing side by side. Perhaps things are incompatible if we demand they fit in one system of meaning, but as separate realities, they are just different, like politics and religion. Is it he commodification of the ideology of a nation, or the fact that shop owners know what Western tourists find attractive and exotic that makes me feel uneasy?

Performative script

The most obvious cultural blindness is my inability to read Chinese characters, or understand the language when it is spoken. The idea that a Chinese person may see in one glance

what is written, and that for me the signs remain meaningless becomes a metaphor in my mind. I can see the sign, but it doesnt speak to me, yet I can perceive and appreciate its form. Writing, and calligraphy are everywhere, Chinese characters are written on both sides of the gates of homes, either printed on white or red paper, hung above altars and glued on the poles or sides of gates. Certain characters are often also written in a different style, I have never seen before. I conclude that performative calligraphy is an integral aspect of Chinese society. Especially of religious places, it seems. From my frame of mind, and combined with the contexts where they are exposed, I can only suspect they are sayings, spiritual texts, poetry, or good wishes. If I would perform research here, it would be one of the first things to find out. It reminds me of the Tibetan prayer-flags, that spread their texts in the wind. I am especially drawn to the pictogram scriptures of the Naxi, the main native community of this region. That this is the script of the native nationality (as this is named in China), is communicated everywhere. The shapes remind me of hieroglyphs and Aztec codices. As a student I followed lectures on the Aztecs ancient culture, and was explained how to read some of them. I buy a booklet to see if I can interpret their meanings. Pictograms are often mere metaphors.

 Suddenly there is the association with the Russian filmmaker: Eisenstein. His ideas about editing in which he refers to the metaphoric quality of the Chinese character and the editing principle in it. He hoped to find a grammar of editing principles, of how images signify through metaphor. Chinese written language constructions have evolved according to much more imaginative lines than phonetic writing, (two women in the sign of a house means : fighting) Western writing connects writing to sound and directly to language, undoing it from direct reference to figurative imagination. I like the mixture of the image and the pictogram-language. It raises the question again about how and what pictures communicate. Later that night I read some more about the Naxi pictogram, and how they originate from the Dongba tradition, the priest-cast of the ancient Naxi Bon religion. They became a patterned script through a Dongba priest who established it as a system. This is a huge heritage, that I realize I cannot touch upon, nor value its cultural depth, in this short time. I decide to restrict myself to photographing what I encounter. But I feel deeply impressed by the richness of this culture and I feel sorry that I cannot follow up on it, due to the restrictions of time and language.

Meeting people

 The day is warm and I rest a little in the shade, sitting on a stone, at the side of the road. A woman sits beside me, facing the wall. It surprises me, as her shop is behind her. I would think she would have to keep an eye on it. We sit for some time and smile at each other, we cannot speak but we feel friendly towards each other. I try to talk with her, ask if she is Naxi. She says she is from Wozu (?).After 10 minutes a young girl walks up to us with a baby, it is hers. Her face lits up, she happily embraces her baby, and plays with it. The universal feeling of motherly love.

I bath in the soft happiness that she radiates. She has the look of a person that seems to be at ease with herself, yet a little sad perhaps as well. I take these photographs perhaps more to establish a relationship then to picture the persons. If anything I try to grasp the relationships between her and her baby, and to remind me of a moment of contact. This love has always moved me., and is universal. I wonder if children may even be more precious and guarded here because of the one child policy? The babies all look like little princes. I wonder if all those single children do not get very spoiled?

Touristic settings are always artificial. That what should come naturally has been commodified and made into a performance. Identities are being exoticized. Only dominant cultures do this to minorities. People are forced to see themselves through the eyes of those who regard them as exotic objects, or act out their lives. It smells of money and loss of authenticity. For some members of these communities it is the only way to earn a living, others are involuntary subjects. That is perhaps also why I seek to find the ordinary that is beneath the performative aspect of tourism. At different occasions I encounter photographers who photograph girls in different traditional dresses of the nationalities of the region, in different local settings. The way ethnic identity is portrayed, is similar everywhere, also in the Netherlands.

SECOND DAY

I started out late this morning, it was already 9 oclock, although the alarm was set at 6:00 but I noticed no sounds, as one would expect in the countryside, and even the carpenters that are working on rebuilding the house next door only started their work at 09:00. I guess this might be a rule not to wake up the tourists. A second day is always a little unsettling, the excitement of first impressions has wavered and the brightness of colours already faded a little, there is a memory created and now there is a certain anxiety of what to make of all this and what to do next. 1957 1949

I decide to explore the outskirts of the town, to see if those areas are less touristic. Embodying the town though walking. The town is not too large, yet one can walk around in it endlessly. In a way it reminds me of walking around in Venice. The whole town is consistent in architectural style, and one can imagine what it must have been like in older days, when there were no tourists clotting the streets, and Lijiang was a tradepost and a meeting place of many different travellers. Yesterday, I came across a small bookstore on Waynzi street and I bought an English book, written by Peter Goullart a British traveller, who worked for the Chinese authorities in the 40s and 50s; The Forgotten Kingdom, first published in 1957, but reprinted by the Yunnan Peoples Publishing House,. It is a delightful book, describing his daily experiences of the 9 years he had lived in Lijiang until 1955 1949The photographs and descriptions of his encounters with , people from the many ethnic groups that seemingly came together in this market town, gradually fill in my imagination of the old times before the Chinese revolution and before this was a UNESCO heritage site. He describes it as a very lively and multi-ethnic place.

Again I am drawn to calligraphy, and how it seems to take a central place in Chinese culture. In a calligraphy shop, a boy of about 10 is learning to do calligraphy. He is so concentrated that he doesnt notice me. In how children learn, we can learn a lot about what cultures mean to communicate. The training of the boy, of writing the characters exactly in the right proportions and lines shows how much the aesthetics and discipline of painting characters, is appreciated.

 I end up on the road that encircles the town, just at the crossroads where a large hotel is situated along the river. I encounter a shop where I recognize a basket with the cocoons of the silk-caterpillar. A young man sits in front of a basin with a heap of boiled cocoons, and he is busy undoing them from its content, half caterpillar, half butterfly. He soaks them in water, opens them, turns them inside out and takes out the insect and little bits of a harder cocoon inside, he pulls the silk over his fingers, and he repeats that with at least 5 other cocoons, then he stretches hem wide with both hands and pulls the silk over a strong iron wire that is arched over the basin, it forms half a circle, like a big hat. When he sees my interest he gets up, probably hoping to sell something, and goes inside.

8001300 He shows me the pillows that he makes of the silk. The prices are high, between 800 and 1300 Yuen. He shows how you can role them up and that the pillows wont be that big if you do. But I have to retreat and tell him I cant buy anything from him. Now I feel that I no longer have the right to watch him. Technical processes are relatively easy to observe and understand. It also has a performative element to it, something that is shown to be seen, and therefore invites being photographed. Later I pass by a small shop that sells stationary, and I find a notebook there. I try to communicate with the elder lady, and as she tries to read the price of the notebook, I give her my glasses and she is rather shocked that she can suddenly read the price now. Later she checks again if she cannot also read it without the glasses, but she cant. I feel shocked too in my turn, that a simple thing like a pair of glasses is such an experience for her. It puzzles me. Are people not wearing glasses? Then I go out on the street again I start to look around to see if people wear glasses, but I only see tourists with glasses. When I walk on, I pass a home where two girls seem to be taking piano lessons. I feel moved by the music. Why these girls would study western classical music ? I turn around at the end of the road where I encounter Sandra. She has the advantage of speaking Mandarin. We meet in front of the small shop with stationary, and start to chat with the lady with whom I had shared my eye-glasses earlier. As Sandra talks, I look at the ladys slippers. They seem to have a medical function as there are pieces of jade put on the spots where the toes and foot touches the wood. 19

It appears she is from Baisha a town in the Lijiang Valley, and it is hard for Sandra to communicate with her, her accent is hard to follow. It appears that she is very impressed with the way her sight improved by using my glasses and she would like to have a pair of glasses like that too. Now we have to get her address to send it to her and she bids us to stay and wait till her husband returns. We wait for 20 minutes and then we look for a solution, I tell her I will return and take the address from her husband, and so I do. At 19:00 hours I return, and he searches all his paperwork and even the map of Lijiang to gather all the details that he needs to write down his address. I dont think he is used to getting mail at all.

At the southern gate I pass by a group of young women who seem to be resting from their work. They are not wearing traditional cloths. They sit around in a natural way, having fun and doing some embroidery. I show them the pictures and they react cheerful, I ask myself, why do I photograph them? Perhaps as a counterweight against the romanticized image of the town,

 I marvel at the beauty of the huge stones that are sold in some shops, and the jade jewellery. There is apparently a culture of the aesthetics of stones as well, but I dont think it has anything to do with this place. It seems more a general Chinese appreciation for rocks and stones. Are they found here, or why else are they sold here in such abundance? I assume that there is a relation to Chinese paintings that so much emphasizes rocks and mountains, and rocks in gardens. There are many shops that sell them, but there are no images or emblems that refer to any of the local communities. Chinese tourists mainly buy stones like jade and amber. What is the meaning of these stones? Why does it have such value for them? In the night, I stroll the streets to get an impression of what is going on at night. It is very crowded in the streets and on the main square. The town looks magical with its lights and lanterns. People crowd along the river and launch candles on the water, for good luck I believe. There is dancing by girls and boys from different nationalities in the restaurants and cafs in town. The feeling that all this is not real; that I feel manipulated, remains. My dislike for the performative character of the touristic way the town is displayed, is suspicious. Why not just surrender to the fun? I try perhaps unconsciously to distance myself from the crowds of tourists to feel more of an ethnographer ?. It is perhaps snobbish of me. At the same time I deeply admire the aesthetics of the dresses and love the energy of the dancers. It is an ambivalent feeling. I realize though that I could not stand to walk around like this another day, as I dont have the feeling I am learning much about what Lijiang really is, or was.

DAY 3: LOOKING FOR STORIES

 Today I will look for just one person or family to concentrate on, I would like to stay with them in one place for a whole day to see what I can learn about life in Lijiang. I am again confronted with the experience, that in research my own intentionality and subjectivity is essential, and at the other hand, that only when I can communicate with the people here, can I shift my understanding and categories of thought and observation further towards those of the people concerned. Ethnography is mostly about practical learning. The embodiment of cultural knowledge can only be obtained through long term participation & observation; through acting along with local people, like a dance of life; embodying movements, reactions and perceptions, and interacting with them, as it is their vision I want to get to know. That requires presence and participation in daily life.

 mp3 As I have breakfast and drink a cup of coffee on an outdoor terrace, a boy asks if he can sit with me. He miraculously, offers to accompany me, as he wants to practice his English. He presents himself as Michael Jackson. Most Chinese youth that I have met take on a Western name for Western people, as their experience is that Westerners cannot remember or pronounce their Chinese names. I gladly accept his offer. We discuss what we could do. I tell him that I would like to go to one of he neighbouring villages in the valley and propose to go to Shuhe that I saw on the map. I reckon that knowing the environment of a place like Ljiiang can teach me a lot about the place itself, and I hope the crowds will be less there. Michael Jackson knows where to take a bus to Shuhe. We travel on a 1 Yuen ticket. I feel happy to take action. He is rocking on loud music on his Mpeg3-player and I wonder what his ambitions are. I ask him what he wants to do after school, but he says he doesnt know yet, but he wants to earn lots of money.

 Shuhe is also a touristic place. There is a large gate. And many touristic shops and cafs. But it is more a hippy-kind of tourism. We walk through the village, and I enjoy the fresh mountain air and some beautiful waterpools, with the clearest water I have ever seen, and fish swimming in it. It is extremely beautiful. I suggest we first head to the countryside, and Michael obliges. We start following a narrow foorpath between the farms at the edge of the village. Could we enter one of the farmyards I ask him, and whilst he unplugs one of his earphones, he pushes the large wooden door that leads to the court of one of the farms. The court is enclosed by two buildings. It seems at one side there are the living quarters, and at the other side an open kitchen. The lady of the house is working in the kitchen. She gazes at us with great surprise. Michael Jackson explains we would like to see the farm, and asks if we can sit with her for a while. He tries to start a conversation, but doesnt know what to say, and I ask him to ask about the crop she works etc, and if she has any animals. She says they grows corn, and has some cows, but there the conversation stops. It leaves us all embarrassed, however hard Michael and the lady try to hide the awkwardness of the situation, our presence is totally inappropriate and I suggest we leave again. We leave the lady behind laughing nervously, hardly looking us in the eyes, and I know this was a wrong step. When we stand outside, Michael Jackson gets a phone call of one of his friends, who tells him that they will have a football match that afternoon. With the lightness of youth, he says he has to leave. I thank him for his efforts, and Michael Jackson turns around and I see his red baseball cap, jump away amidst the green, back to the bus station, leaving me to myself. I walk up the hill along a narrow path and sit down on a big stone to reflect on what happened. Should we have entered, should I have photographed her? Have I overstepped ethical boundaries? I suddenly feel very embarrassed for having been so eager to meet local people. I decide to return to the village, enjoy my time and see what I will encounter there.

 In the main street I buy a freshly roasted ear of corn, and I sit at the side of the road to eat it. After some time the activities of the woman beside me, selling mushrooms draw my attention. She is selling her mushrooms very rapidly, unlike other women along the road. She is very open with her customers, and seems to enjoy to have contact with them. I start communicating with her with smiles and gestures and facial expressions, and somehow we manage to make contact. She says her name, that only later I am able to understand fully, after it was written down for me. Her name is Zhang Zuey Yin, and she seems to immediately grasp and accept that I am interested in what she is doing.

The mushrooms seem to be very much in demand. Many people buy them. She sells them in a rapid speed. Tourists, a soldier, especially visitors of the town come to her and she sells them by the kilo.

 It seems Zhang Zuey Yin has good relations with people in town. The lady of the shop in front of which she sits comes out with her baby to make a chat. A gentleman without a clear belonging in the street, also makes a conversation. Perhaps they are curious to know who I am, but in their gestures and looks, I can see that I am not the only topic of discussion. After one hour, there are only a few mushrooms left. The lady from the store across the road comes by and helps her to bag the last mushrooms that are left over. She then helps her to carry all her stuff to the other side of the road. I dont quiet understand why she doesnt sell them all, but I cannot ask her. She borrows a dustpan and a broom from the woman with the baby and cleans up the place. She makes a chat with the old lady who sells the corn that I ate earlier and sits down with her things stacked beside her.

 After a 10 minutes wait, a taxi stops in front of her. Apparently she knows the owner, as they immediately start to talk. I suppose she started packing because she knew he would come to pick her up. I dont know their relation; he might even be her husband. Zhang Zuey Yin asks me if I want to drive with them to Lijiang and I accept. Once we are driving, Zhang Zuey Yin takes out a mobile phone and starts to call. Modernity has obviously reached these small villages in Yunnan, and it is affordable for her to have a mobile phone. Behind the sunshield is a photograph of a young monk. I wonder if he is the son of the driver. We are back in Lijiang in 15 minutes and they drop me off at the gate of the old city. I pay the driver, and greet Zhang Zuey Yin. I try to express my sympathy to her, by holding her hand a little longer. They seem already focussed on where they are going next, but Zhang Zuey Yin smiles when they drive away. The next day we return with some of the colleagues of the research-team,, to enjoy the beauty of Shuhe for a few hours, before we prepare our presentations for the workshop. I am happy to see that Zhang Zuey Yin is there again. She seems pleased to meet me. With the help of Sandra, I learn a little more about her. Now I am able to fully understand her name, She explains she is from the Tsan Zu ethnic community and her husband is from the Naxi community. She has two children and 4 yaks, and lives with her family in a village outside Lijiang. She had 2 years of schooling, and cannot read or write. She tells that she picks the mushrooms early in the morning in the mountains and brings 4 to 5 cases to be marketed. She also sells 5 Yak cheeses for 14 Yuen every other day. I sit with her a little longer, and already it feels familiaLater, I show her the

photographs that I made of her, the day before, on the LCD-screen of the camera. She smiles, and gestures if she can have them. I gesture her to write down her address so I can send the pictures. She understands and says the address to an older man who has come to overhear our conversation, and he writes the address in my booklet in Chinese characters. From now on, other action is needed to get to know her life. I will not have the time or means to follow up on her story, but I feel the ethnographer in me ready to engage..

Reflections on perception, depiction and narratives

The camera makes everyone a tourist in other people's reality, and eventually in one's own. Susan Sontag 356

Photography is not a direct reflection of perception, as each picture is a selection that has an intention, and thus a meaning, a reason why. A picture soon becomes a metaphor, representing something else, as every selection is already a signification. However these intentions can be unconscious at the moment we make a spontaneous picture. It is this naivety, this un-reflected selection process, that I try to grasp here as an expression of First Sight. I have tried to let taking pictures in Lijiang, on the first day, be an intuitive thing. One can only try to let it happen, follow what draws the attention, picture it, and reflect on it later. I understood First Sight like that, like a spontaneous gesture. Why of the thousands of objects and subjects that are there, do I for instance choose to photograph exactly these flowers, dogs or objects? Why did I never depict the crowds of tourists ? And why, of the 356 photos that I took, do I discuss exactly this selection? In reflecting on the pictures of Lijiang, I actually tried to discover that reason. I was not evaluating the quality and the composition of the image, like artists would do, but I tried to establish what they represented of Lijiang, and of my own intentions. I realized, that I cannot separate what I perceived from who I am, how I define myself, my history and lived experiences, and from what I was interested in. In the end I was not in Lijiang, just to have a good time. I was still there as an ethnographer, using myself as a tool. Looking for patterns, I found meaning in organizing the images in categories that could be applied in terms of the domains of the subjects that were represented., Categories like: Flowers, Calligraphy, Small dogs and caged animals, Window-scenes like tableaux vivants, material culture, Mothers or grandmothers with babies (thinking of the one or two child-policy, Girls in traditional dresses and Water etc. Yet there are also many pictures taken ad random that I have now not chosen to discuss as I did not know how to signify them, because they stood alone. Subjects like flowers and animals were related to my own memories and preferences, others like calligraphy and architecture were reflecting my interests but also exposing the exploration of Lijiang as a new environment. I realized later, that in the images that were taken on the first day, the moments of depiction, of photography as a moment in time, was not relevant, as these photographs were mainly relevant for their choice of subjects, not how those were represented or at what moment. The images, reflected my selective vision and thoughts on subjects that I saw and recognized. It seems these were merely transcultural categories and subjects. No cultural knowledge is needed to distinguish their general properties; I can use these categories without feeling that I seriously disturb local categories, yet again, I cannot know for sure. 1996200 Conscious knowledge is generated in reflection. In the reflective process it is also my total lack of- cultural, historic and socio-political knowledge of Lijiang that I become so painfully aware of. I feel surprised how I have walked around comfortably, in the cloud of my own not-knowing. I didnt even know what I didnt know. I knew not of the existence of the Naxi

religion and script for instance, and only later did I learn, I am ashamed to say, that Lijiang was hit by an earthquake in 1996 by which 200 people were killed. At the other hand, the nave start, also helped me to first experience the place without a directional view. That moment allowed me to see what came to me naturally. Perceptual knowledge differs from knowledge obtained through speech. If I had known the language, local concepts might have helped to structure perceptions, point towards categorisations and signification by which people live their lives. Local vision cannot so easily be known without being let in on the significations. Yet also participation in daily activities can achieve such structuring at a corporeal level. We learn and understand the practical logic, of for instance eating with chopsticks, which is practical logic and skill that can be acquired through training. Participation creates phenomenological knowledge and skill through experience, that comes before words or meanings. That is why participation is so important for our discipline. Sight, touch, scent, motoric action, already establish culture specific patterns in our bodies and become schemes of corporeal experiences that we can share, communicate and remember. Yet to learn the right ways of acting and interacting of local people, we need to establish relationships with people who are willing to teach us their ways. These are the basic principles of ethnography. - xii It seems that most of what we perceive, especially through sight, is an active construction of what we already know and are interested in. In terms of consciously experiencing First Sight, perception, cannot be separated from first thought, or rather inherent signification or recognition? The Sapir/Worth hypothesis says that only through language can we become conscious of the world. Can we perceive something that we do not recognize separate from learned perceptions, concepts, meanings, opinions? Nijland (1989) states that doing; action comes before language. That we can consciously engage with the world even before we signify it through language. So how can I become aware of what I perceived in Lijiang if I do not know what it means, and how it is called ? In this new environment I learned to see new things, but I

could only signify them through my own understanding. As an ethnographer I can strive to purposely distance myself from the associations and significations that are attached to the things I perceive; clean the window of my minds eye. I can then consciously try to break my own habits of sight helped by local people, but only in retrospect, as sight is an immediate action. Audiovisual media enable us to take distance from our perceptions and re-value our perceptions The externalisation of vision through photography and video may help to see what the mind includes and excludes in the act of seeing.. Perhaps this is the most important skill of the ethnographer; not to take things at face value or First Sight, as it is usually just a reflection of what we already know and project on the world. Actually there is an anxious or an uncertain moment in all this, where we have to uproot the obviousness of how our perceptions relate us to the world. Every perceptual interpretation thus remains a question mark. xiii Aesthetic and ethnographic principles of photography may play a role in how a picture is taken. Yet the photograph can also show what we were not aware of, when we took it, due to the composite qualities of the image that includes elements in the background, and it can communicate without interpretation and attached concepts. Much has been written about these processes in theory, notably by David MacDougall (2006) and Sarah Pink (2009)xiv, but it is a challenge to try to become aware of ones own process of visual learning, which includes all other senses. Perhaps when theorizing, we should be more explicit about how we employ different states

of mind in participant observatio, and in relating to our (new) perceptions. It is perhaps a common experience, that when one lives on the automatic pilot we hardly perceive anything, whilst when we engage with the world in an open awareness, and try to be very conscious of what we experience and perceive, everything around us seems to come alive. Ethnography relies on how we can handle our perceptive awareness, especially in participant observation, where our senses are our main tools of research in the observational process, especially because perception is perhaps even more embodied than thought. xv xvi Nevertheless; one of the problems of relating to our First Sight lies in the moment of translation (see also Talal Asad 1986xvii). In order to communicate what the I perceives and how I interpret it, I need to signify it, and I have to use my concepts with their connotations, and narrate through them, as I do not know the local names or meanings, and because it would not communicate the image that I want to convey to the reader.the image would not communicate what I want to convey to the reader. As ethnographer I could make a systematic observation report, but it is not this what is meant with First Sight. Through photography I can convey the aesthetic aspects of social worlds (social aesthetics; David MacDougall 2006), but the iconic image remains mute, in terms of conveying my own experiential connotations or those meanings and sentiments experienced by individuals of the local community. When I want to reflect on my experiences of First Sight I need to relate them, the modality of text takes over, and demands that such description is turned into a narrative mode. The first day, I wanted to explore First Sight more as the vision of a private and culturally socialized person, not as the first steps of a systematic method of observation. Is it not the different ways in which our visions are socialized, that we are interested to find out more about? The second day, I realized that I felt the need to come closer to organisational principles of activities by people themselves, and I started to depict

peoples skills in small technical processes, that I could understand because they had a clear practical logic. So in that sense the temporality of the activities, and the different phases in action became important to observe and photograph, and in framing I tried to represent what I thought was the relevant interactive space, like in the boy performing calligraphy and the man preparing the silk pillows. Of course I could not know the corporeal knowledge or skill that was needed to perform these actions. Already the ethnographer in me took over from the private observer, and I dont know if that makes my project less an exploration of First Sight, as after all I am an ethnoographer and interested in these skills, which is as much part of me as my private sensory experiences and memories. The exploration of First Sight, thus became an exploration of technical processes, where my sight became a tool of research, but my observational sensitivity became more that of the ethnographer at the expense of individual likes and dislikes. The third day it seemed to come naturally that I wanted to view if I could get to know one person and his or her way of life a little closer. Less than technical processes, I realize now in retrospect, that I concentrated on and was mostly interested in processes of social interaction and social relations as reflections of a biographic narrative of the person who I got a little closer too: , and who allowed me to take photographs of her activities. This modest step, gave me the feeling to know a little more about at least one local person in Lijiang valley. An extended stay with a translator could have enabled me to go much deeper into the lives of members of different local communities, and start to understand more of their specific social worlds, ways of life, and social relations between themselves and different communities, and their relations with Lijiang.

i ii iii
iv

http://www.archive.org/stream/argonautsofweste00mali#page/n5/mode/2up http://www.archive.org/stream/argonautsofweste00mali#page/n5/mode/2up

New Oxford American Dictionary

New Oxford American Dictionary

Merleau Ponty 1945 Goodenough 1967, Bourdieu 1976, Jackson 1996, Michel de Certeau 1980/1984 vii Stoller 1989 (Maurice Merleau Ponty 1964), Classen 1997, Howes 2003, Classen 2004, Stoller 2004
vi
viii

Maurice Merleau Ponty 1964, The Primacy of Perception North Western University Press

ix

Pierre Bourdieu 1972 (fr.) /1977 (eng.), Outline of a theory of Practice, Cambridge University Press
x

Pierre Bourdieu 1972 (fr.) /1977 (eng.), Outline of a theory of Practice, Cambridge University Press
xi

Leroi Gourhan (1943, 1945,1964, 1965) Nijland (1989) xiii David MacDougall 2006, The Corporeal Image, Film Ethnography and the Senses, Princeton University Press and Pink, S. 2009, Doing Sensory Ethnography, London: Sage
xii
xiv

David MacDougall 2006, The Corporeal Image, Film Ethnography and the Senses,

Princeton University Press and Pink, S. (2009) Doing Sensory Ethnography, London: Sage
xv

ASAD, Talal. 1986. The Concept of Cultural Translation in British Social Anthropology. In: James Clifford and George E. Marcus (eds.). Writing Culture. The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography. xvi David MacDougall 2006
xvii

ASAD, Talal. 1986. The Concept of Cultural Translation in British Social Anthropology In: James Clifford and George E. Marcus (eds.). Writing Culture. The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography.