Among my initial impressions of Kent, when weighing up my options to study at university, was the Visual Anthropology module.  I saw the short films of past students, and had an interview over skype with Mike Poltorak, convenor of the course. Ever since, I valued this project as it presented an opportunity to combine theoretical perspective within anthropology (including visual anthropology) with practical and creative arts.  My resultant film is informed by ideas of observation (MacDougalls), narrative-creation (Rouch) and sensory anthropology (Pink), yet I feel that my own style adds to the overall product.

The process was daunting because I started with little to no prior training in photography, cameras, or aesthetics.  Having watched films of interest to visual anthropology in the previous term was helpful, as it allowed me to formulate opinions on what works best.  Initially, I had been drawn to ‘observational’ styles reminiscent of the MacDougalls and Longinotto. Wiseman, for example, influenced my use of establishing shots.  But through further discussion during seminars, and after writing a reflexive essay on the subject, I concluded that aiming for objective observation is not a solution to the crisis of representation because any film carries traces of the filmmaker, rendering true objectivity impossible.  With this in mind, I was less reluctant to use interviews as narration, perceiving this method as similar to Geertz's (1973) idea of 'thick description', because visual and audio combine to provide an experience and interpretation of how it is experienced. Training on how to use equipment and shoot footage also helped; despite having heard the rule of thirds explained many times before, it was only until this year that I grasped the significance of the central four corners created by the intersections.  Other concept that informed my film were headroom and lead room. This has also affected how I watch media from now on, as I’m able to identify what it is about a shot that makes me like it. One area I felt could warrant improvement is my use of audio.  Although I followed the trend within ethnographic cinema of refraining from using music, I am entirely in agreement with Henley and Pink on the power of sound in conveying experience and meaning.  Soundscapes of the city could convey  significant aspect of my subjects' embodied experiences, and would be more prominently featured were I to shoot again.  I am grateful for being trusted to use professional equipment. Even though I don’t own any myself, I’m now more familiar with aspects of cameras and editing software, which reassures me that I’ll be able to approach using them again in the future with some familiarity.  I attended this module more consistently than any other I have taken at university. This can be attributed to the real sense of learning I got from the new skills being taught, but also the sense of community that developed between the students on the course. The Facebook group, seminars, and editing room offered arenas for situated learning as posited by Lave (1991). We shared what we learnt through a community of practice. Now, I feel that I know others on my course more intimately, and had a network of support to draw upon when challenged during filming and editing.

 

Perhaps the most daunting aspect, though, was the responsibility I felt towards people I chose as subjects of the film.  Much of the rest of my degree has focussed on what is ‘good’ anthropology, and I felt pressure to apply this to my project.  Some concepts, like ethnocentrism, cannot be avoided but anthropology taught me how to recognise them ‘in the field’. For example, when filming an interview with Kohei in his bedroom, I instinctively ‘made his bed’ (covered the mattress with the duvet) on his behalf whilst he had temporarily left the room as I assumed this is how he’d want it to be presented on film.  It wasn’t until I was interviewing Chisato weeks later, on her mattress, with the duvet folded at the end, that I remembered sleeping in my bedroom in Japan on a futon which was to be folded up in the morning. I took this as a reminder that my own cultural norms can impact the film and that I should be vigilant to combat this; although I disregarded any ‘pure’ observational goal as a myth, I still didn’t want to control the scene simply to make myself comfortable.  Conscious of the dangers in representing people you have personal relationships with, nevertheless I knew I wanted my film to be a vulnerable one, and for that I chose to work with people I truly resonated with.  Wikan was an inspiration in this regard for insisting that resonance is key to producing effective anthropology (1992).  At times it put pressure on our relationships. Sometimes, the camera felt like a third person in the room when any one else would not necessarily be welcome.  Having the power to choose what made the final cut was also difficult to navigate without hurting the feelings of subjects who had been so generous with their honesty and time as to work with me.  I was keen not to censor, yet apprehensive about their message and how it would be received. Yet, overwhelmingly, the process has introduced a new level of intimacy between myself, Chisato, and Kohei.  Not unlike how Malinowski approached fieldwork, I tried my best to participate in what they talked about, to share their living spaces, eat together, and travel their commutes. Perhaps some shots, like Chisato tying on her apron, or the shower Kohei cleaned daily for two months, are not aesthetically significant, but were attempts to represent the anthropology of lived experience, not purely the narrated.  I did not feel the film was worth making if it made them uncomfortable and threatened our friendship. I understand better what Rouch means in making the film not just for an audience but for the subjects themselves. Hearing both Chisato and Kohei say that they enjoyed watching it back, could reflexively engage with the theme and their participation in it, and have similarly positive impressions on the impact of filming on our friendships has made me able to enjoy the final product that much more.

 

Having been lucky enough to study in Japan during the 2016/17 academic year, returning to my home culture was jarring, because except for my memories and experiences, there was not much else I physically had to show for my time away.  The process of making this film was a way for my own past experiences to be integrated within my present. Themes in the film, such as migration, sexuality, and identity are all aspects that I have explored in my own daily life. As such, the film acts as an artifact of my own historicity, as well as Chisato’s and Kohei’s.  I am pleasantly assured in knowing that the meditations within the film will continue long after it, and that it will be a tool to assist in future self-reflection by all three of us upon our pasts, and our relationships with each other.