Caitlin Cunningham finds beauty in the common, the simple and the imperfect writes Shivangi Ambani-Gandhi
While journeying into another way of life, some moments become embedded in memory, lingering on in the mind’s eye. US-based, Aussie photographer Caitlin Cunnigham had one such moment in Nagaland,. “Photographing the chief of Longwa village in Nagaland was extraordinary,” she recollects. “We were in his home, very dark with a beam of dusty light coming through a hole in the thatched roof, and were surrounded by several generations of his family, along with dozens of animal skulls. It was eerie and beautiful; my camera is only now losing the distinctive scent of wood smoke it acquired in those first days of the trip.”
The trip fell into Cunnigham’s hands when her father could no longer make the pre-booked tour to North-Eastern India. The chance visit though, turned out to be an unforgettable experience. “It was my first trip to India, and I knew immediately that I would return to see another region. The richness of life and experience was truly extraordinary, and for a photographer, eye-opening in a way I had never previously experienced.”
In two weeks, Cunnigham traversed across Kolkata, Nagaland, the Brahmaputra,
Kaziranga National Park and Guwahati, documenting the journey on her Canon 5D Mark II. Most westerners photographing India are out to capture the sights and smells of the exotic experience. Formulaic photos of saturated colours, crowds and chaos are the norm.
Cunningham’s photographs though, are atypically simple. For instance, instead of brazen colour, she captures the surreal grey serenity of the Brahmaputra. “We were on a beautiful house boat, and I climbed up the stairs onto the top deck to see this, an unbelievably quiet and grey scene, a moonscape, with flat grey skies and the water so flat that it mirrored the colour without a ripple. It made the appearance of fishing dhows that much more haunting, as if they were sailing through the air,” she recollects.
Even when Cunnigham does have the opportunity to flaunt the colours in textile factories, she focuses on capturing textures and forms and the details of the craft. She photographs the workers’ silent concentration, and the beauty found in the lines formed by the warp and weft. “In my photography, I always attempt to capture quiet moments, to find a texture or a gaze, a posture,” says Cunnigham. “I enjoyed trying to document such a tactile art form, the knots and the individual threads… I bought five wooden weaving shuttles from a street vendor because I thought the shapes of the objects were so beautiful.”
Her photography is particularly different from the western eye when it comes to portraiture. Her camera is almost imperceptible and the images non-intrusive. Viewing the photographs in succession is rather like the natural glance of a keen eye. This is perhaps because, despite the language barrier, Cunnigham always sought permission from her subjects.
“I was unable to communicate verbally, but I tried to be as respectful and direct as possible when requesting to take an individual’s photograph. I would make eye contact and gesture to my camera, not proceeding until receiving a nod or a smile from the subject,” she explains.
When living on a houseboat on the Brahmaputra, she preferred to not take photographs, because she could not communicate with her subjects. “There were a couple of times when we were anchored in the river quite close to shore and it seemed that entire villages would come to watch us from land. I took a couple of photographs at these times, but found myself feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable, pointing my big lens at people with the distance between us, and without the ability to in some way request those images,” says Cunningham. “In the end, I preferred to watch them as they watched me; I think we were equally interested in each other’s lives.”
Cunnigham was even able to overcome the language barrier with her subjects at times. At the Mon Village in Nagaland, Cunnigham recollects a particularly moving encounter with an old lady she photographed. “As she and the other women danced, she continued to look at me and smile broadly. When their performance ended, I smiled at her, nodded and tapped my hand over my heart, trying to express in some way my gratitude. She clasped both of her hands together and held them over her own heart, smiling so broadly. I felt honored to be there.”
With this approach of mutual respect, Cun
nigham’s photographs have the quality of an authentic diary of the times and lives she encountered. There are no major landmarks or grand monuments, and no premeditated postures—her photographs are rather a celebration of the common, the imperfect, and that chance encounter. One such chance encounter on a Kolkata tram, led to one of the best images Cunnigham took in India—the image is of two brightly coloured, caged birds stand out in the otherwise drab surrounds of a tram.
“We took a tram ride through the city in order to see the streets from a different perspective. I had just knelt to switch lenses on my camera and with a jolt, the tram had stopped and I nearly saw my lens roll out of the open door. When I looked up a young man was boarding with the cage of birds,” remembers Cunningham. “He watched very patiently and seemed to be surprised that I took even the slightest interest, giving me a large smile when I showed him the images on my camera’s screen. I was so rushed to get the shot that it’s not what I would like it to be, and my position on the tram’s floor was not ideal, but it is still one of my favorite images from the trip.”
Also in Kolkata, Cunningham photographed the idols part of the Durga Puja celebration—but her images capture the idols while they are still being sculpted. “I was fascinated by the process of creating the form, from bundles of straw to plastered and painted, and was more interested in the building process than the finished products, which to me were beautiful, but not as appealing in their final state,” says Cunningham. “The Japanese have a term, ‘wabi-sabi,’ which among other things references finding satisfaction with imperfection. It was the incomplete nature of the statues that had this beautiful imperfection and haunting grace.”
Cuuningham has also photographed several traditional rituals—many of which even most Indians would not have heard of, let alone seen. In Nagaland, she has documented a series of war dances depicting the hunting, slaying, and celebration after a successful battle, by the Konyak tribe. “There was no explanation of the meaning of their dances, but it was very powerful, with a deep rhythmic singing and small steps taken around the field.”
Another set of images show the Paal Naam festival at the Auniati Temple on Majuli near the Brahmaputra. “I don’t think I will ever forget the soft colours and candle light from within the temple, all of the participants dressed in white robes with hints of red, and the smell of incense and the sounds of drum,” says Cunningham.
Her photographs of a dance and drum performance from the Shri Shri Uttar Kamalabari Monastery, and those by the varied religious groups of Guwahati are fascinating. However—as is to be expected from Cunnigham—some of her best images come from not a grandiose performance in a major theatre—but from the humble performance of a tale about Hanuman on the banks of the Brahmaputra, under the light of a single bulb.
“This was perhaps my favorite night on the entire trip,” says Cunningham. “Approximately 20 men came from one of the local satras to perform, lit only by a single bulb on a bamboo pole buried on the bar. They arrived on a dhow, coming out of the twilight fog and half-dressed in costume, bringing with them a massive old stereo system that was arranged on the sand.”
“Despite what must’ve been oppressive heat in their large and elaborate costumes, the actors danced with grace and athleticism. Afterwards, I requested an opportunity to photograph some of the performers using only the light from the bamboo pole. The men were so patient and so still, despite that they must’ve wanted to remove their costumes in the heat, and these are some of my most cherished images from India.”
All images are the copyright of Caitlin Cunnigham. For further information, or to purchase images, please visit http://caitlincunningham.com
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