PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGERY
IN THE ETHNOGRAPHY OF SPAIN
PHOTOGRAPHS AS AN ETHNOGRAPHIC DECISION
John and Malcolm Collier have wisely observed that, in
contrast to early ethnographers, who used photography
as a systematic means to record material culture, "mod-
ern anthropologists generally use photographs strictly as
illustrations, perhaps feeling that the overload of photo-
graphic detail interferes with more controlled analysis"
(1986:10, emphasis in original text). The anthropology
of Europe, a relative latecomer on the ethnographic
scene, conforms perfectly to this generalization. As a
rule, the photographs that are included in ethnographies
of Europe are illustrative, rather than a primary data
source such as Gregory Bateson and Margaret Mead
(1942) once had in mind. Ethnographic photographs
from Europe tend to play a minor role as compared with
words in the presentation of ethnographic information.
The usual purpose of photographs is to supplement the
text. Photographs in these works are not indispensable.
In fact, authors rarely refer to the photographs at all
within the text.
Chiozzi has described perfectly the result of this
publication strategy as a "great distance that exists
between text and image" (1989:43, emphasis in the
original). Continues Chiozzi, "too often photographs
appear to have been added for anthropological coquetry,
rather than aiming for effective visual documentation"
(ibid.). With equal frequency, as Harper points out,
photographs try simply to illustrate the author's words;
rather than being used to deepen the analysis, they
"appear as visual redundancies to the written text"
(1989:37). Although readers of European ethnographies
probably lend no more than a few moments of attention
to most photographs, it is certain that these i mages exert
an intellectual as well as emotional impact. They impress
readers profoundly. They influence readers' ideas not
VisualAnthropology Review
STANLEY BRANDES
only of the society under investigation, but also of the
investigator him or herself, and the relationship of the
investigator to the studied society. In this sense, al-
though the photographs might be intended as mere
illustrations, or for their aesthetic rather than informa-
tional impact, they are not necessarily redundant of the
text. At the very least, they operate to convey a certain
ethnographic tone. As Charles Suchar says, "photo-
graphs particularly portray well the outer shell, the visible
veneer of'apparent' reality—appearances. They give us
the appearance of people, places, things, and a sense of
what I would call 'time gone by'" (1989:52).
In the present study, I draw upon ethnographies of
Spain to elaborate upon the notion of photography as
largely unconscious communicative medium. The very
decision to include photographs in an ethnographic
monograph, as well as the author's selection (or ap-
proval) of particular photographs for publication, con-
veys ethnographic information of a sort presented inad-
equately or obliquely in the text. In many of the cases I
shall examine, the photographs communicate precisely
the sense of 'time gone by' to which Suchar refers.
Photography as a documentary medium in Spain
pertained originally to the field of folklore, rather than
modern ethnography. Here photographs were used as
primary sources of data. It is sufficient to glance
through any issue of the Revista de Dialectologia y
Tradiciones Populares—since its founding in 1944 the
prime source of folkloristic data and analysis in Spain—
to find numerous photographs showing the immense
variety of plow types, yokes, wooden cart wheels,
votiveofferings,windmills,jewelry,traditionalhairknots,
and the like, which until relatively recently formed an
integral part of Spanish rural life. Whatfolklorists strove
for was to document the cultural diversity that was
disappearing before their very eyes. To take a photo-
Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
graph, in that particular context, was to preserve knowl-
edge of traditional life, a way of life that the great majority
of Spaniards had already abandoned. For folklorists and
their readers, it was the yokes, amulets, embroidery
patterns, or whatever, that were of intrinsic interest. In
the case of non-material folklore, such as proverbs,
legends, ornicknames, photographs never accompanied
the text. Photos above all were illustrative of tangibles,
not abstract ideas, such as norms, sentiments, social
groupings, or cultural process.
Although systematic photographic records might
have been usefully incorporated in modern ethnographic
research on Spain, virtually all the published work to date
could well have been released with text alone. The most
important themes in Iberian ethnography—themes such
as kinship, emigration, gender systems, marriage, do-
mestic relations, honor and shame—have been written in
such a way that they lend themselves in only problematic
fashion to photographic documentation. Nonetheless,
almost all monographs about Spain published by Ameri-
can and English anthropologists include photographs.
This is not the situation, however, with comparable
monographs published by Spaniards. The contrast is
striking; it is one that I return to later. Meanwhile, since
it is easier to analyze something present than something
absent, letus turn first to the British and American case.
Let us begin with the notion that photography is a
means of communication. The authoruses photographs
to communicate something, although that "something" is
Jess explicit than what appears in the text. In the first
place, the decision to include photographs is significant
in and of itself. There is always the option to omit photos,
even within the American and British ethnographic tradi-
tions. In fact, what many scholars would consider to be
the two first ethnographies to appear about Spain—
namely, People ofthe Sierra (1954) by Julian Pitt-Rivers
and A Spanish Tapestry (1961) by Michael Kenny—
provided alternative models for future hispanists. The
former included photographs, while the latter omitted
them. What intellectual impact would one or the other
course of action exert?
The answer to this question is not obvious. None of
us in the field of Spanish anthropology comments in our
monographs on this matter nor, until very recently, did
Stanley Brandes is Professor of Anthropology at the University of California, Berkeley, specializing in European and
Latin-American Studies. He is author of Metaphors of Masculinity: Sex and Status in Andalusian Folklore.
Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
we discuss it in classes and seminars. I recall no case in
which apublished reviewofamonograph on Spain even
mentioned the matter of illustrative pictures. In short, we
have left not a single written word regarding the decision
whether or not to include photographs. Nonetheless, we
may assume that authors routinely discuss the inclusion
of photographs prior to signing a publishing contract and
also that they comment upon their photographic selec-
tions with friends and colleagues. Hence, to publish a
given quantity of photos on a limited range of themes is
significant, although the significance is more often than
not hidden from the reader. It is likely that on occasion
an author overlooks the messages conveyed by the
inclusion or exclusion of photographs. Perhaps theclose
scrutiny of a few examples will clarify the matter.
A CASE IN POINT: THE PEOPLE OF THE SIERRA
Let us begin with a key work, The People of the Sierra,
published in New York and London in 1954. As is well
known, The People of the Sierra is the first community
study using standard participant observational methods
that was carried out in Spain. It was among the most
revolutionary ethnographies of Europe, we might say, in
that it broke with the anthropological program of study-
ing tribal, non-Indo-European speaking peoples. It
showed the possibility of carrying out an ethnographic
study of rural Europe, a study worthy of the doctorate in
anthropology. Above all, given that The People of the
Sierra was a monograph of unusually high caliber as well
as original in many ways, it had an enormous influence
on subsequent European community studies. For ex-
ample, Pitt-Rivers decided to hide the real name of the
community, which he called Alcala de la Sierra. (It has
long since been revealed as Grazalema in the province of
Cadiz.) Consequently, the most common practice among
American and English hispanists has been to give a
publication pseudonym for a community study. Pitt-
Rivers also chose to focus on certain themes, such as
gender, value systems, and informal sanctions. These
are the themes, in fact, that have dominated the field ever
since. Among his other decisions, Pitt-Rivers decided to
include photographs.
Visual Anthropology Review
 Whatever the conscious motive for this decision,
there can be no doubt that it favored the anthropological
acceptance of the book. To include photos was one
salient way in which Pitt-Rivers cou Id maintai n conti nu-
ity with the "tribal ethnography," the revered ethnogra-
phy of Malinowski. Firth, Evans-Prichard, and others,
that preceded him. Among other things, photos demon-
strated the authenticity ofThe People of (he Sierra as an
anthropological study. The pictures showed that,
despite being fu lly c lothed in European garb, the men and
women portrayed—these men and women with their
honor and shame complexes, their anarchistic beliefs,
their nicknames and Gypsies and egalitarian sentiments—
were quite different from Americans and British; that is,
they were a people worthy of ethnographic investiga
tion. Pitt-Rivers was apioneerof ourdiscipline. Atthe
same time, forhis work to be deemed acceptable, he had
to how that his project fit within the ethnographic
framework of the ancestors. His thesis director, in fact,
was Evans-Prichard, who wrote the Preface to The
People of the Sierra. It is certain that ethnographic
photography helped Pitt-Rivers achieve this conscious
or unconscious goal.
The People of the Sierra contains ninephotographs,
eight of them numbered in a List of Illustrations. One
photograph is unnumbered and precedes the rest; it Alcali de la Sierra
carries the caption "Alcala de la Sierra," and is situated Figure 1. From The People of the Sierra (1954).
in a privileged position across from the volume's title
page (Fig. 1). In fact, it does occupy a privileged ro e tion and sifted within a wider ideological complex.
in the book in that it is the only photograph that (1993:189). We must take the photograph called "Alcala
represents the entire town, rather than just a part of it. de la Sierra" in the spirit of this commentary. When The
The photo "Alcala de la Sierra" gives readers a pan- People of the Sierra was published in 1954, the study of
oramic view of Alcala, taken from a nearby hillside. small peasant communities was sti 11 a novelty, although
Right away, there is a critical difference between this known in a different geographic context through the
photograph and those that readers were accustomed to Mexican research of Robert Redfield. "Alcala de la
from tribal ethnographies. In the case of Nuerland or the Sierra" situates The People of the Sierra within this new
Trobriand Islands, it would be impossible for a single field. The ideological and methodological decision of the
photo effectively to capture theentirety of thestudy site. investigator to focus on one given community is in-
The photograph "Alcala de la Sierra," by contrast, scribed in this published photograph. Simply by repro-
portrays the geographic entity under investigation. Im- ducing a photograph of Alcala in his book, Pitt-Rivers
plicitly the photo communicates to readers, "Here live follows British social anthropological practice (e.g , in
the people of the Sierra. What you see is our object of influential and widely-cited works such as W.H. R.
study. This book deals with this place." Rivers' The Todas (1906), Malinowskis Argonauts of
In The Burden of Representation, John Tagg ob- the Western Pacific (1961 [ 1922]) and Evans-Prichard' •
serves that "Photographs are not ideas. .They are ma- The Nner(\ 940)); at the same time, by publishing a photo
terial items. . .distributed,circulated and consumed within encompassing his main geographic unit of investigation,
a given set of social relations, images made meaningful he allies himself implicitly with the emergent field of
and understood within the very relations of theirproduc- peasant studies. These are the distinct, albeit related.

Visual A nthropology Re vie w Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997

intellectual arenas to which "Alcala de la Sierra' connects
Pitt-Rivers and his book.
Consider next theeight numbered photographs in the
volume. We should note at the outset that, like "Alcala
de la Sierra," they all contain captions. The decision to
use captions is critical. As Mary Price indicates, 'De-
scriptions, ordescripti ve titles, set limits to expectations,
direct attention to subject or context, perhaps name the
time and place" (1994:71). In this sense, ethnographers
who publish photos are, in Chalfen's words, "image
custodians" (1987:129). Says Chalfen, "the same
picture may 'say' different things (read, be interpreted
in different ways) to the same person or to different
people" (ibid.: 122). The caption serves to orient the
reader, to direct the reader's attention to one interpreta-
tion of the photograph rather than another. In The People
of the Sierra, the numbered photographs carry the
following captions: (1) "The lower fountain" (2) "The
upperfountain"(Fig. 2); (3) "Gathering Esparto grass '
(4) "The valley below the town", (5) "The Day of the
Bull", (6) Corpus Christi procession", (7) "A aabia
reciting a prayer", (8) "An old gypsy" (Fig 3).

i An uld fT-'|n\

Figure 3. From The People of the

a. The upper fountain
Figure 2. From r/^e People of the Sierra {1954).
Sierra (1954).
What is most striking in thesecaptions is the absence
of personal names. Of the nine photographs in The
People of the Siena, six include people, presumably
residents of Alcala. The reader only knows about these
peoplefrom whatiscontainedinthecaptions. Individual
portraits are representati ve of particular social roles: the
gypsy, sabia ("wise woman"), and the like. In addition,
perhaps for purely technical reasons (dark interiors and
absence of flash), all the photos were taken outdoors:
there are two communal fountains rather than a kitchen;
there is a procession rather than a Mass, there are men
fleeing from a bull let loose in the street rather than
milking a cow in the stable. The photos orient us to the
outside world, that is, to those spaces where the values
and sanctions of the townspeopleexerttheirmost salient
influence. If this selection of photographs was a
conscious decision on the part of Pitt-Rivers, it was
certainly a clever one, for it assures that the photographs
reinfoice the main themes in the text

4 Volume 13 Number! Spring/Summer 1997 Visual Anthropology Review

 To assess the impact of this particular photographic
assemblage, let us take a closer look at several photos
themselves and assess their probable significance to
readers in the United States and Britain duringthe 1950s,
when the book first came out. Taken as a whole, the
bucolic and agricultural character of Alcala is empha-
sized in the photos, as if to underline the rural—not to say
rustic—emphasis that characterized the social anthro-
pology of the day. The two photos entitled "The lower
fountain" and "The upper fountain" are illustrative. In
the first place, the mere existence of communal fountains
in the street provides a striking contrast to the United
States and Britain of the day. Pitt-Rivers makes no
mention in the text of running water in the houses, which
makes it all the more evident that these fountains are a
source of survival. They are no simple decoration of
public space.
The photo of the lower fountain is taken from afar.
We see a cobblestone street with a dried-out hill, dotted
with small, apparently-inaccessible houses in the dis-
tance. In thecenterof the photo is a young man, perhaps
a boy. This individual carries a hat and leans his right
hand on a donkey, an animal immediately associated in
the United States and Europe with poorer, more rural
lands (be they Latin American or European) to the south.
The individual's left hand leans on the fountain, which
almost appears to have the neo-classical facade of a
chapel, all the more so because the facade i s topped with
a prominent cross. At the very least, the fountain seems
big and solid, much more so than the white houses strung
along the distant hillside. Water flows from the eight
spouts. Pitt-Rivers offers no textual information about
this fountain. Hence, to the typical American or British
reader it remains unclear just who drinks from this
fountain: people, donkeys—or both!
The shot of the upper fountain is a close-up. We see
four stone spouts, all of which take anthropomorphic
form, including eyes, nose, and mouth, out of which the
water flows. In more than twenty-five years living and
studying in diverse areas of the Iberian Peninsula, I have
never seen anything like these faces. From the size and
configuration of the eyes, one can imagine them to be
ancient remains, perhaps of Iberians, Carthaginians or
Celts. In aspect as well as manufacture, they are very
crude. Below each spout there is a jug—two of clay, two
of metal, all very traditional-looking. Seenasaunit, "The
lower fountain" and "The upper fountain" convey an
image of primitivism. The donkey, the cobblestone
VisualAnthropology Review
streets, the tiny houses, the jugs—all contribute to the
stereotype of backward Spain. In the 1950s, of course,
a backward Spain was a Spain worthy of anthropological
study. Perhaps it is the religious touch to the photos that,
more than anything, reinforces this image. I refer mainly
to the cross portrayed in "The lower fountain," and to the
spouts in "The upper fountain." One can imagine those
faces having had some sacred significance, as if they had
been uprooted from their original home and reinstalled at
their present site. I refer also to the photograph of a
Corpus Christi procession that appears in the book.
The remaining photographs in The People of the
Sierra do nothing to counteract the image of primitivism.
The two farmers collecting esparto grass work with their
hands, traditional implements, and a donkey, rather than
modern machinery. Esparto grass itself is a product that
by now, in the 1990s, has been long obsolete. Even in the
1950s, American and British readers must have won-
dered what it was. "The valley below the town" is a
beautiful, tranquil scene, evoking romantic images of
rural harmony and bliss. There are no television anten-
nas, telephone cables, or electrical wires to interfere with
the image. "The Day of the Bull" does show cables. But
what most stands out in this photo are the bull (a Spanish
stereotype, to be sure), the poor men, the cobblestone
street, and, above all, townsmen clinging to the iron
grates in order to escape the bull. Those men perform
formidable gymnastics! "Corpus Christi procession"
shows townspeople dressed up in jackets and ties. But
the social context is thoroughly religious and exotic,
especially for most Americans who are familiar with
secular parades but decidedly not with religious proces-
sions conducted in the street.
And what can be said of "A sabia reciting a prayer"
and "An old gypsy"? Well, they are the most mysterious
photos of all, above all for the eyes. The sabia looks
downward so that the eyes are entirely obscured. The
gypsy woman looks toward the reader, but with an
enigmatic expression. Her clothing, above all the shawl,
kerchief, and long skirt, departs as much from American
and British norms in the 1950s as does the scant garb of
some pre-literate tribe. And this is one reason why The
People of the Sierra was such a success. It demon-
strated that in Europe—or, rather, on the margins of
what was then considered the real Europe—it was
possiblefor anthropologists to find a half-civilized, half-
primitive world. The photos in The People of the Sierra
are designed to distance Alcala from the reader's direct
Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
experience. Despite the fact that Alcala was portrayed etors occupy the same space. Only a single house of a
textually as fully connected to Western civilization, large landowner fits within the same frame. This
photographs in the book emphasize difference, show this conscious (or unconscious) strategy of photographic
town to represent the Other. reproduction assures that the smallest houses actually
In the analysis of ethnographic photographs it is appear small on the page, while each of the larger ones
essential to indicate what does not appear in the photos. occupies an entire photograph on its own. To comple-
The People of the Sierra includes abundant textual ment the image of one of the large-scale landowners'
material linking Alcala to the external world. But in the houses, the reader sees an automobile parked in front. In
photographs we see neither outside world nor signs contrast, looking down the entire street of workers'
thereof. Nor is there any indication of the urban houses, we see no automobile whatsoever. There is only
character of Alcala, a character that that town shares a single person, a man standing in the background by the
with virtually every other of its size within Spain. We seedoorway of one of the workers' houses. His small size
no commercial establishments: stores, banks, bars. We in the photo corresponds perfectly to the presumed size
see no photographs of the local elite: doctors, priests, of his house and his property.
large landowners. Nor do we see evidence of modern Moreno chooses to annotate the six photographs
means of transport like cars, trucks, and busses, which with substantive captions. He offers very long descrip-
serve—and for many years have served—as means of tions of each house to the point where he even comments
communication between Spanish villages and towns, on upon phenomena not portrayed visually. Consider, for
the one hand, and nearby cities, on the other. example, thecaption to one of the photos showing a large
There is no doubt that The People of the Sierra is a landowner's house: "Houses of large landowners. There
brilliant ethnography. But at the same time, it is a book exists a complete symmetry between both stories, with
with a photographic selection that imparts an image of an equal number of vanos in each story, generally three,
the Other. It is a rural, poor, religious, superstitious, and there exist abundant ceramic adornments, even the
technologically-backward Spain that is portrayed in the eaves finished off with ceramic spheres to hide the roof;
published photographs of Julian Pitt-Rivers. all of which presents a marked urban character which
does not completely accord with reality, at least with
THE PHOTOGRAPHIC INTERPRETATION OF SOCIAL CLASS reference to the upper story, which has no other function
than that of a storehouse. With balcony above the front
Grazalema (alias Alcala de la Sierra) is of course located door." In the photograph of houses of landless workers,
in Andalusia, aregion of marked class distinctions. Since Moreno comments that "The photograph is of a second-
extensive anthropological research has been carried out ary street, which is where most of the houses belonging
on the topic of social class in Andalusia, it seems to social groups with no or very little land are situated.
appropriate to explore how this theme has been portrayed Note the intense whiteness of the facade, a characteristic
photographically. We consider here three ethnographic feature of Lower Andalusia."
monographs which focus on Andalusian class differen- These commentaries present substantially more in-
tiation, authored by Isidoro Moreno (1980), David Gilmore formation than is evident from looking at the pictures
(1980), and Irwin Press (1979). alone. Moreno, in contrast to Pitt-Rivers, leaves little to
Isidoro Moreno (1980:149-156) presents exactly six the reader's imagination. For example, to say, "ceramic
photographs in Propiedad, ClosesSocialesyHermandades adornments are abundant" or "a characteristic feature"
en la Baja Andalucia ("Property, Social Classes, and signifies that what we observe is representative of a
Brotherhoods in Lower Andalusia")- AH show the larger class of phenomena, a certain category of house.
facades of houses in Bencarron, the village near the city We learn in addition what is hidden from view, what a
of Seville where he carried out his research, and all are secondary street looks like, as well as that large landown-
illustrative of social class. They are presented in se- ers try to emulate urban styles.
quence, from the most humble houses to the most Curiously, David Gilmore's monograph, People of
luxurious. Each of the six photos occupies half a page. the Plain (1980), also reproduces photographs only of
Moreno fits seven of the workers' houses in a single houses. In Fuenmayor, Gilmore's agro-town located
photograph. Two of the houses of small-scale propri- only a short distance from Moreno's community, there

6 Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997 VisualAnthropology Review

 In TlwC itvas ('antext( 1979), Irwin
Press also illustrates the phenomenon of
social class through picture, of resi-
dences, but this time in the city of Seville.
Of the total of thirty photographs that
appear in his book, fully a third are of
houses of one type or another, from
cheap rooms off of central patios to large
apartment buildings to luxurious palaces.
Press identifies each residence as belong-
ingtoaparticularsocial class. Of course,
non-Spaniards, such as British or En-
glish, may readily interpret such photos in
terms of social class, given more or less
similar standards across European na-
tional borders. In addition, Press uses a
variety of other images, all with descrip-
tive captions, to representclassdifteren
Upper-class families in their private pavilions during Feria. tiation. Consider, for example, the photo
en titled "Upper-class families in theirpri-
Figure 4. From The City as Context (1979). vatepavilionsduringtheFeria"(l ig 4).
The photo is complex. It shows numer
is also a variety of dwellings, each corre- ous people of different ages, genders and,
sponding to a particular social class. probably, social classes. They are walk-
Gilmore's captions are brief: "A Senorito ing, sitting, eating. There exist few clear
house", "House of a Strong Mayete",
"Workers' Houses," etc. The house of the
"Strong Mayete," a substantial landowner,
appears on the same page as that of the
"Medium Mayetes, a juxtaposition that
facilitates visual comparison. Specifically,
two of the Medium Mayete houses occupy
the same visual space as a single house of a
Strong Mayete. Of the five photographs in
all, only one—that of the wealthiest class
representati ve, the senorito—i s oriented ve r-
tically. The verticality emphasizes the height
of the house, which in turn operates as a
spatial metaphor for the high social class of
the owner. Spatial metaphors of social
class are, in fact, evident in Andalusia
(Brandes 1993). Taken as a unit, the
photographs published by Moreno and
Gilmore communicate the idea that in rural Municipal car parker downtown. Note his built-up shoe. He earns a
Andalusia it is the houses that best illustrate modest living with all benefits of any other employee, including sick
social class, above all, it is the physical Pay-
height and size of the houses that corre-
Figure 5. From The G'/V as Context (1979).
spond to the social elevation of the owners.

Visual A n th ropology Re vie w Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997

signs of upper-class presence, with the possible excep-
tion of one woman wearing a necklace and seated in the
lower right corner of the photograph. Nonetheless,
Press's caption interprets the photograph for the reader;
he directs, perhaps unwittingly, our attention to this
woman, and this woman alone.
There are four additional photos, two on each of two
contiguous pages. These photos clearly show SeviUians
of humble social origins. On the page to the left are two
lottery vendors, one blind and the other wheelchair-
bound; to the right, a self-appointed guardian of parked
cars, wearing a large orthopedic shoe (Fig. 5), and a
group of people seated in a room. The caption which
accompanies two of the photos states that the lottery
vendor and automobile guard earn "a modest living" but
that they take advantage of Social Security benefits. The
photograph of people in a room is explained as "Waiting
their turns at the Social Security clinic." In short, to
illustrate the working class, Press shows us three dis-
abled people plus a group of sick people. By contrast, the
upper class is illustrated by a trio of super elegant
SeviUians mounted on horseback. The caption reads:
"Seville's 'beautiful people'—young members of elite,
landed families—parade through the April Feria on su-
perb horses." Press interprets for us the quality of the
horses, although we view only the neck and jaw of one
of them. The overall message of the photographs in The
City as Context is that Seville'srichare good-looking and
well-dressed while the poor are disabled and unhealthy.
That is, not only residential types but also the human
body varies visually as a means of identifying social class
membership.
It is important here to recall Susan Sontag's com-
ment that "As Wittgenstein argued for words, that the
meaning is theuse—so for each photograph" (1977:106).
The photographs published in ethnographies of Andalusia
sustain acertain interpretation of society, an interpreta-
tion that emphasizes social inequality. And let us recall
that, quite apart from the authors' captions, there is a
certain reality behind what we see. There can be no
doubt that the house types and clothing portrayed vary.
Mary Price says it well when she claims that, "The use
made of photographs must in every case be sustained by
interpretation. So one may fully concur in the belief that
a photograph does not have an inherent self-evident
meaning. But neither does it have a wholly arbitrary
meaning. The limits of interpretation are determined by
what can be seen in the photograph" (1994:11). That is,
8 Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
while a photograph is devoid of intrinsic significance and
begs interpretation, neither does it lie. Ethnographic
photographs of Andalusia show the true presence of
social class distinctions in that part of Spain, although
each author, through still images, expresses an individual
idea of how these distinctions should be visualized.
THE PHOTOGRAPHIC INTERPRETATION OF ETHNICITY
In Spain, Catalans, Castillians, Galicians, Basques, and
other ethnic and regional groups all look basically alike.
It is clothing, vernacular architecture, agricultural land-
scape, and other cultural clues that provide visual signals
as to specific identity.
In the ethnography of Spain, each author utilizes a
somewhat different strategy to indicate ethnic affiliation.
Probably the most common is through informative
captions. In Rural Catalonia under the Franco Regime,
Hansen (1977:16) includes a photograph of a vineyard
with some houses and a church in the background. The
whole scene is prototypically Spanish. The caption
reads, "Catalonian Polyculture." Hansen also shows us
a picture of a man and two women. The caption states:
"Masover Family," which indicates to at least some
readers, by virtue of the surname, that this couple is
Catalan. Greenwood, in Unrewarding Wealth (1976),
focuses more on the economy than ethnicity in the
Basque town of Fuenterrabfa. Nonetheless, to illustrate
Basque identity, he publishes several photos of typically
B asque dwellings together with unmi stakable captions,
like "Blancaenea, example of Basque farm architecture."
Fernandez de Rota emphasizes vernacular architecture
mAntropologiade un Viejo Paisaje Gallego (Anthropol-
ogy of an Ancient Galician Countryside) (1984). Almost
all the photographs in this volume are of typically Galician
houses, inside and out. The captions incorporate Galician
words, such as cociha ['kitchen'], fumeira [fireplace],
and the like. Buechler and Buechler (1981), by contrast,
use visual rather than verbal clues to indicate ethnicity.
Carmen, their study of a Galician woman, includes only
two photographs: one is of a woman seated on the floor
on the side of a maize field (maize is typical of Galicia),
the other a view of the countryside with an horreo, or
Galician granary, in full view.
One of the most striking methods of indicating
ethnicity is through photographs of ritual. Perhaps the
best example is Teresa del Valle' s Korrika: Rituales de
la Lengua en el Espacio (Korrika: Rituals of Language
VisualAnthropology Review
 in Space) (1988). Korrika is very unusual for a Spanish
ethnography in that it includes some thirty photographs.
Almost all of them show scenes of the ritualized mara-
thon after which the book's title is taken. The photos are
sprinkled with political posters and placards which name
unmistakable Basque personalities and places. Through
its photos, the volume portrays Basque nationalism.
In the case of linguistically diverse groups, like
Catalans, Basques, and Galicians, authors have open to
them the possibility of illustrating ethnicity through
words, be they part of the caption or of the photo itself.
This is decidedly not the case with the so-called pueblos
malditos—or 'despised peoples'—of Spain, which are
in general unrecognizable by most Spaniards (not to say
foreigners) through language or material culture. The
first edition of La Muerte y Otros Munclos by Maria
Catedra( 1988), on the vaqueiros ("herders") of Alzada,
has only one photograph: that on the book's cover,
which shows the head of a cow with a ring through its
nostrils. Susan Freeman (1978) includes some twenty
photos in her study of the pasiegos. They are taken in
a great variety of circumstances: inside and outside of
houses, in the countryside, in the village center, with and
without people. Nonetheless, with the exception of a
single photo of a typically pasiego cradle (called a
cuevano ), it would be hard to distinguish this unique
ethnic group from other rural Spaniards in the mountains
of north-central Spain. As for Kenneth Moore's study
(1976) of the Xuetas, the so-called Catholic-Jews who
live in Palma de Mallorca, they are completely absent
from the ten photographs that appear in the book. (Most
of the ten are tourist scenes of this picturesque city; afew
individuals incidentally appear in the photos but they are
unidentified.) The Xuetas are physically indistinguish-
able from the rest of the Mallorcan population. Moore's
treatment of them is itself acommentary on ethnicity: the
Xuetas disappear in photographic images as they do in
daily life; they are as lost in the photographic corpus as
they are among the majority population.
If the Xuetas are visually unrecognizable, Gypsies
are every bit the opposite. In fact, up until the recent
migration of North Africans to Spain, it has been the
Gypsies who are the most ethnically distinctive group in
the entire Iberian Peninsula. In /Que Gitano! Gypsies of
Southern Spain (1972), authors Quintana and Floyd
include numerous photos, most of which reinforce
stereotypic images of Gypsy life. Almost a third of the
pictures illustrate musical themes: Gypsies singing,
VisualAnthropology Review
playing the guitar, dancing flamenco, wearing flamboy-
ant flamenco garb, and the like. Among the photographs
isoneof "Gypsy Nomads," asthecaption reads;they are
seated aside a cart and horse. Another picture shows a
copper vendor, holding her merchandise visible to the
reader. Quintana and Floyd also do what no other
ethnographer has dared to do: identify reputedly ethnic
sentiments through the photographs. One heavy-set
Gypsy woman stands erect, looking intensely at the
reader; the caption states, "La Golondrina (The Spar-
row): Gypsy Pride." Following are two additional photos
of Gypsy women. One has a serious expression and
holds her hand in her head, her drooping body supported
by a table; Quintana and Floyd explain, "Mai Tiempo"
("Bad Times"). The other is smiling and strokes a baby
at her side; state Quintana and Floyd, "Alegna" ("Happi-
ness").
The impact of this strategy is to humanize the
Gypsies at the same time as they are stereotyped. It may
be because Gypsies are the single most identifiable ethnic
group in Spain that Quintana and Floyd decided to
illustrate them photographically as individuals. Given the
physical distinction between many Gypsies (certainly
not all) and the rest of the European population, their aim
seems to have been to emphasize what is universal about
Gypsies: the expressions on their faces. The numerous
photos of children that appear in /Que Gitano! exert the
same humanizing and universalizing effect.
THE ETHNOGRAPHIC PORTRAIT
Individual portraits are among the most problematic
aspects of ethnographic photography in Spain. On the
one hand, it is difficult to decipher an author's goals
when he or she decides to include an individual portrait
among the published photographs. The study of culture
implies the existence of a social context, that is, the
existence of a group. Small as it may be in some cases,
the group presumably shares a certain range of values,
norms, and behaviors. On the other hand, culture does
not exist apart from the individuals who learn, express,
and transmit it. Choosing between individual portraits
and group shots, it is the latter that demonstrate more
possibilities for illustrating cultural patterns and pro-
cesses.
Consider, for example, the numerous ethnographic
photographs of rituals in which people march in proces-
sion, or unite in the countryside for a pilgrimage, or carry
Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
flowers to a cemetery in honor of the dead. Consider,
too, the diversity of shots that illustrate economic life,
above all of people buying and selling and trading in
markets and local fairs. One must consider the photos
of games and sports, such as that of the so-called
"human tower" published in Hansen's monograph
(1977:111), or that of the young girls imitating the birth
of a calf in This World, Other Worlds, the English-
language edition of Maria Catedra' s book on the vaqueiros
de Alzada (1992:124). Susan Freeman (1979:46), Wil-
liam Christian (1972:105), Edward Hansen (1977:119),
and Irwin Press (1979) have all published bar scenes. In
the majority of cases, it would be nearly impossible for
an untutored student to interpret these photos without
textual explanation. Nonetheless, photographs of people
in groups at least demonstrate spatial relations of one
person to another (mediated, of course, by the focal
length of the lens that took the picture), as well as basic
information about material culture. Snapshots can be
said at least to illustrate actions that have undeniably
occurred.
This is not the case with individual portraits. One
cannot deny that even portraits contain some cultural
information; at the very least, clothing and hairstyle
indicate something of time and place. Frequently, too,
the photographic subject is surrounded by household
items that provide data above and beyond the individual
him or herself. In this sense, portraits root the ethnog-
raphy within the lived world. Nonetheless, what gives
little information is what one supposes is the main subject
of the portrait: the face, above all, the eyes. Henri
Cartier-Bresson once noted that portraits enable us to
examine what all humanity has in common (Lutz and
Collins 1994:96). He was thinking of the gaze, which
above all eliminates culturally differentiating features;
what remains in the portrait is universal, the person as
individual. Under such circumstances, then, whatsense
is there in publishing ethnographic portraits?
In the firstplace, we must recognize that the portrait
presupposes considerable trust between subject and
photographer. Hence, the portrait contributes to the
authenticity of the anthropological study. Unconsciously,
portraits communicate the notion that the anthropolo-
gist-photographer knows at least some of the study
population rather well, that the anthropologists have
related to their subjects on human terms. As these
photographic subjects tend to be peasants or other
working-class people—almostalwaysappearingpoor—
10 Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
theethnographicportraitimplies acertain power relation.
The photographer, whether Spaniard or foreigner, has
had the economic means to spend time among the study
population and earn enough trust to be able to take
photographic portraits. The portrait, in this sense, might
serve as proof of a kind of conquest of poor friends-
informants by the relatively affluent, at least partially
careerist anthropologist.
In jQue Gitanol, Quintana and Floyd publish pic-
tures of themselves together with their informants.
Through this means, they explicitly demonstrate their
relationship to the Gypsies of Sacromonte, the district in
Granada where their study was conducted. In one shot,
we observe a well-dressed woman—the investigator—
seated at the side of a man and a young boy. The woman
writes in a notebook. The man gestures with his right
hand and has his mouth opened as if he were speaking.
The young boy looks upward. States the caption: "I
wish..., I wish." A second photo shows a woman with
microphone in her hand and aman seated at her side, with
mouth open. The caption states, "We have been talking
for eleven years." This photograph certainly communi-
cates an atmosphere of trust; intentionally or not, it
serves to augment the authenticity of the research, if in
no other way then through the testimony of a lengthy
period of in vestigation. Quintana and Floyd also publish
aportrait of Walter Starkie, the pioneering Irish scholar
of Gypsy studies. This picture has the incidental impact
of helping to place ;Que Gitanol within a grand tradition
of Gypsy research.
The manner in which ethnographic portraits are
captioned reveals what the author wishes them to com-
municate. Captions such as those of Pitt-Rivers—
namely, "La Sabia" or "La Gitana"—stereotype infor-
mants, just as they humanize them. Other portraits
produce acertain distance from the subjects by focusing
on one or another economic activity. Freeman's photo
of a pasiega woman holding a scythe is a case in point;
it bears the caption: "Picando el dalle: cold-tempering
the scythe." Other captions have the opposite effect,
above all those that bear personal names. Consider
Quintana and Floyd's portraits of "Maria" and "Isabel,"
with no other mention than their personal names. These
are truly moving pictures. We want to get to know those
women, for, as they are portrayed, they are none other
than themselves. This is not necessarily the case with
Press's photo entitled "Two wags: Ben and Eduardo."
By calling attention to the fact that these men are
VisualAnthropology Review
jokesters, Press causes us to interpret their penetrating
glances in one way rather than another.
True, descriptive captions can teach; but simulta-
neously they can fool us. Each time that the ethnogra-
pher offers an interpretation of a picture, even in just a
few words, he or she removes from the reader some
possibilities of interpretation. To this extent, the photo-
graphic subject is dehumanized; the individual in the
picture isconstraedunidimensiorially.
PHOTOGRAPHY AND THE TRANS-CULTURAL VISION
To include photos in an ethnography is neither a bad nor
a good decision. But inclusion or exclusion brings
perhaps unintended consequences. Authors do not
reveal to readers why their monographs do or do not
include photographs. It is possible that publishing
houses, wishing to pinch pennies or pesetas, have the
final say and that authors have little control in this regard.
Nonetheless, it may be instructive to compare Spanish
and English-language ethnographies to see if general
patterns emerge.
At first glance, it would seem that there is little to
distinguish Spanish from English and American authors.
Let us recall that Gilmore and Moreno each published
about the same number of photos of house facades—and
only house facades—in their ethnographies of rural
Seville province. Among the English, Pitt-Rivers pub-
lished photos, but Corbin and Corbin (1987), working in
a town very close to Grazalema, did not. The Spanish
group is very diverse. Enrique LuqueBaena (1974) and
Joan Bestard (1986) include no photographs in their
ethnographies, while Teresa del Valle (1988) and Jose
Antonio Fernandez de Rota (1984) include numerous
pictures. Sometimes the same author takes alternative
courses of action. Carmelo Lison-Tolosana published
two photos in Belmonte de los Caballeros (1983), while
there are none in his immense corpus regarding Galicia
(e.g., 1971, 1974, 1987). In short, it appears that to
publish photos or not has nothing to do with national
origin.
Nonetheless, some patterns may be identified. In
the first place, as ageneralrale,publications in English—
be they by Americans, English, or Spaniards—tend to
contain more ethnographic photographs than those pub-
lished in Spanish. For example, the Spanish edition of
Maria Catedra's ethnography contains only the cover
photo, while the English edition, This World, Other
VisualAnthropology Review
Worlds, contains about twenty. Metaphors of Mascu-
linity, my own Andalusian study (1980), has fifteen
photos; the Spanish language edition (1991), by contrast,
includes none.
It is entirely possible that for economic reasons
Spanish publishers are unable to provide ethnographic
photographs in their publications or that American and
British publishers are more generous in this regard. As
I have said, there are several Spanish language ethno-
graphic monographs with numerous photographs, so
this is certainly notageneral rule. Ratherthan speculate,
I prefer to speak of my own case. The photographs that
are published in Metaphors of Masculinity demonstrate
rituals and economic activities that are never seen in the
United States. To this extent, they have not only
illustrative but also decorative value. Onemighteven say
that they adorn the book, from an aesthetic point of view.
They therefore presumably help to attract readers. As
for Metdforas de la Masculinidad, it was my decision—
not the publisher's—to omit photographs from the
edition. I thought on the one hand that to publish
photographs would reveal the identity of informants and
the town I worked in; it would destroy the anonymity I
sought for them. It is entirely possible that other
anthropologists of Spain—including Spaniards and for-
eigners alike—have made a decision to withhold photo-
graphs from Spanish editions of their ethnographies on
similar grounds. There is the additional matter of
perceived economic exploitation. Certainly, many of my
photographed friends and respondents, who have ready
access to the Spanish edition, would have thought that
their published portraits were contributing to a monetary
windfall. Since some of the photos contain dozens of
subjects, reasonable compensation would have been
impossible. The best overall solution was to reject
outright the notion of publishing photographs in the
Spanish edition.
Perhaps American ethnographers of Spain are beset
by an interminable search for the exotic and choose to
publish for our English-speaking readers those photo-
graphs that show our field settings in their most unusual
light. Perhaps weunknowingly follow the model set for
us thirty years ago by Julian Pitt-Rivers. Perhaps our
Spanish colleagues understand more than we do the
power of photographs. As Catherine Lutz and Jane
Collins (1994:192) have recently said, a main role of
photographs is topennitan intensive investigation of the
Other; they cite Foucault, for whom the photograph
Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997 11
allows the viewing public to classify and punish. Whether
or not one agrees with Foucault on this point, there can
be no doubt that widely disseminated photographs help
to establish visible criteri a through which people can be
differentiated and judged.
In this sense, it is of critical significance that ethno-
graphic photographs appear in black and white rather
than color. Clearly, as Corinne Kratz has pointed out
recently in her perceptive analysis of book covers, "the
predominance of black-and-white photographs is deter-
mined largely by economics" (1994:185). Color repro-
duction is without doubt financially prohibitive for most
publication purposes. But perhaps the black and white
photograph would be the preference of most researchers
anyway. After all, black and white evokes old documen-
tary photographs, newsreels, and films, with their (de-
ceptive) aura of dispassionate objectivity. Lutz and
Collins, for example, say that "color is the language of
consumption and abundance, while black and white is
the means to communicate concrete facts, frequently
dry, oppressive facts" (1994:94). The black and white
photograph contributes to a sensation of reality in an
ethnographic study. It must be considered part of that
photographic content which, in the words of John and
Malcolm Collier, "supports or denies the authenticity of
our research conclusions" (1986:172).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to express my gratitude to Thor Anderson,
LizaBakewell, Malcolm Collier, CarmeloLisonTolosana,
and William Christian for useful comments on earlier
versions of this paper. I, of course, bear complete
responsibility for the article as it appears here.
COPYRIGHT ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Figures 1-3 copyright 1971 by Julian Pitt-Rivers.
Reproduced with permission of Julian Pitt-Rivers and the
University of Chicago Press. Figures 4-5 reproduced
with permission of Irwin Press, photographer.
12 Volume 13 Number 1 Spring/Summer 1997
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