An ode to the privileges that shaped my life

I was born into tremendous privilege.

Not because we were rich. We certainly were not. We were squarely ensconced in the middle of the middle class. We always had a roof over our heads, and 3 squares, but no frills. How my folks managed on their income still amazes me to this day.

Not because my parents were in influential positions which would have let me leapfrog my way into the upper echelons of my chosen position. No, both passed away late into my teen years, leaving my sister and I a modest home that was paid for, but almost no cash. Neither saw their 49th birthday.

Not because I was born into the dominant race. I was a biracial kid in 1950's Singapore when that was just not done. Now I did not get the sort of treatment that a biracial kid in the American deep south may have had to endure, but my mixed ethnicity was certainly no advantage.

But I did have an excellent upbringing.

From my father I learned to fight for what is right and what I believe in, no matter what the cost. And the costs were high. He spent 5 long years in detention as a political detainee, held without charges (and consequently no right to appeal, since there was no charges to appeal). I learned young about Catch-22's. That was some catch.

From my mother, I learned empathy. I inherited a love of music. I learned to laugh at the silliest things, and especially at myself. And to talk to random strangers. And about never giving up. Mama was diagnosed with Leukemia when I was 13 and lived almost 7 years, despite having been given a prognosis of 2. I learned about acceptance, of myself, and others. And that I could be anything I chose to be, I just had to work for it. She omitted to tell me that failure was a possibility, and therefore that thought never really occurred to me.

And from her and her 2 elder sisters, my aunts (affectionally called "Baby" and "Kunja") who were working professionals in the medical field, I learned about loving, strong, wonderful women, and never felt threatened by them. And from this I saw women as having the same basic abilities that I did, and who were equally capable of being successful, competent professionals if that is what they chose to be. It never occurred to me to think of women in a predatory way.

And from my entire extended family beginning with my maternal grandfather, I learned the value of scholarship. Of reading. Of always trying to learn something new. That tertiary education was something I would do after high school, no if ands or buts.

We were a closely knit family, and I learned the value of kinfolk. Even those, because of geographical separation, I did not grow up with. I met my cousin Roopa for the first time when when I was 30. I had known of her all my life, but we had never met, having been separated by geographical boundaries. Her first words to me were "you're grey. and you're fat". This was no stranger. This was my sister. Immediately. From the instant I laid eyes on her. I learned about always rooting for family. Whatever your differences, ultimately they cared for you and loved you, and would do anything for you. And I would for them.

And from my parents untimely deaths, I learned about cherishing those dear to me. Of not taking them for granted. Of letting go of petty shit. And just going forth without fear. What is the worst that can happen? I die. Well, it's going to happen at some point for sure, so why be afraid of it? I left home at 21 and travelled halfway around the world armed with a suitcase, a guitar, a semester's worth of college tuition, and the woefully naive belief that everything would be just fine.

From my sister I learned that sexual orientation is not a choice. It is something you are born with. Feeling threatened by a gay person is as silly as feeling threatened by a person whose race or skin color is different from mine. We cannot help what we are born with. We can only try to be good and decent people.

And from my children I learned how important it is to nurture. Our role as parents is not to make little clones of ourselves, but to bequeath to them the tools that they will need to find their own paths in life.

And from my friends, I learned the value of community. When our house flooded, people I knew just rallied around and came, unasked and helped remove carpet, scrape floors, give advice about flooring, lend tools, come over and help on off days. I learned that I can never be poor because my friends would not allow this to happen.

Forget silver spoons. I had something far more valuable.

We Are : A Pictorial Essay

The Singularity of the Plural

Preamble


We live in division, dichotomy and disconnection where disfunction has become normalized. As a single, solitary being, the conventional wisdom is that I cannot do anything about geopolitical strife, economic uncertainty, political rancor, climate change and a host of other pressing issues that pose existential threats to that which we hold dear.

Does that mean that I am powerless? Hardly. Within me dwells the Immortal that transcends and will continue to exist far beyond this current (doubtless flawed) incarnation. The same holds true for every single being that will read this document. And for those that won’t. Without exception. Regardless of belief, politics, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, age, social strata, perceived beauty or lack of it, and even perceived virtue or lack of it. I realize it is hard to see the Divine in those with whom you disagree with or dislike. But it’s there all the same.

It occurs to me that our shared humanity also has the power to connect and unite us. We are, above all, a social species. Whether we accept it or not, we are all dependent on each other for our survival, our wellbeing, our happiness, and our ability to cope.

Intention 


Long before I realized, acknowledged or embraced it, storytelling has been my raison d’être. That drive has manifested in several modalities : visual (photography), music (songwriting, musical composition) and the written (and spoken) word.


My body of photographic work has hitherto largely focused on (no pun intended) depictions of the human form, in particular the visually attractive, sometimes unclad. 

This collection to be entitled “We Are: A Pictorial Essay” will be something of a departure for me. I want to do a series of photographs, perhaps culminating in a coffee table book, complete with fine art quality images accompanied by a written narrative. Subjects will represent all walks of life, with ages ranging from young adults (over the age of 18) to those in their 80’s and beyond. They could be male, female, trans gendered, nonbinary, gay, lesbian, straight, of any ethnicity, of any body type imaginable.  I want for this to be a celebration of body acceptance. Wherever possible, I would like to capture group activity or couples in relationships. I would love to be able to visually depict a sacred circle - perhaps some form of sky-clad shamanic ritual.

My wish is for this collection to be a depiction of the differences that make us the same. The one constant is that all participants will be nude. Our natural state is the great equalizer. My intent is not to portray anything salacious. Far from it. Many of the nudes will likely be implicit, not explicit. We are human, mortal and subject to the same biological constraints and frailties, no matter how talented, successful or capable we are. Some of us have smaller or larger or danglier bits than others. So what? As the Prophet Job reminds us : “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither”.

I fully plan on being one of the subjects. Sauce for the goose is surely sauce for the gander. I would not ask anything of anyone I am not prepared to do myself.


I would love the opportunity to tell your story. Our story. I sincerely hope that you will allow me the honor and the privilege of portraying you doing what you love in the best possible light. Please email me at jim@wearepictorial,com if you would like to be a participant in this project. Examples of my work can be found at http://www.jimkamphotography.com

Perhaps in some small way, we will together be able to recognize those around us as kindred and connected spirits on the same quest, of whom we may have once perceived as “the other”.


Postscript

April 5, 2022

In replying to a friend via email, it occurred to me that what I didn’t say in my manifesto is at least as important as what I did say. I have gotten to work with some truly lovely models. Which is all well and good, but that in itself is not really all that interesting to me. It’s been done before by those with better skills, imagination and larger budgets than I have, This begs the question, “What do I have to add?”

I would rather work with people who don’t think of themselves as particularly attractive, Who may have been told all their lives (by the media, and perhaps their “well meaning” loved ones) that they are unattractive and ought to be ashamed of their bodies. I want to show them, and those around, that they are beautiful. That they are worthy. And that they are more than enough. I want the experience to be cathartic and empowering. I want to be inclusive. Not exclusive. I want to help facilitate self discoveries via experience. Lofty goals, to be sure. But those are things I have worked on myself for several years, that I can share with others. I see that as the value that I bring to the table.

Lately when doing bodywork, I have started to incorporate a simple practice that I adapted from a Gestalt Coaching course that I did (via Zoom) at the beginning of the COVID lockdown. At the time, I had no clue how this course would have any practical use for me, but I figured I would trust the process, keep an open mind, and that there is no such thing as wasted knowledge.

The 5 minute exercise involves synchronized breathing, nonverbal communication and energy sharing. Nothing complicated, but it has made a world of difference in my being able to intuitively discern the client’s needs, and for the receiver to be more open to receiving. The few people I have tried this with have been effusive.

I am incorporating this practice into my photoshoots as well.

How does one capture a person’s essence in an image? Is that even possible? My take on it is that I am not as concerned with the image as I am with being able to craft a narrative. It begins with “listening" empathetically and energetically. Conversations and interviews often don’t get to who a person really is. People are used to saying what they think the listener wants to hear. But their energy doesn’t lie. So far its been uncanny. Does it make for better images? I don’t know. I don’t have enough data yet. But what have I got to lose from pursuing this avenue?

Kerrville Folk Festival 2018

I have been going to the festival annually since 2007. The first couple of years I was only there for 4 days or so. In the last few years, I stay about 10 days. This year, I was there for 12 days.

The festival itself lasts for 18 days, starting on the Thursday before Memorial Day. Many longtime festival attendees, particularly representatives of the various established camps show up on the weekend before the festival begins for what is known as "Land Rush". This allows them to stake out a spot for their campsites. In theory, anyone can camp anywhere, and there are no reserved spots once the festival begins. In practice, however, established campsites  stake their claim prior to the festival, ensuring continuity over the years.

There is a sort of order to all of this. Typically denizens of a particular camp will continue to do so until their camp becomes defunct or they are, for some reason, told to camp elsewhere. 

I have camped at Camp Todo Grande almost since the beginning. The first couple of years, I came with my friend Tom. We would rent a pop up camper which we would park in the RV lot located in The Meadow. That said, we would hang out with our friend Pam and others at Camp Todo Grande. Located right by the main entrance to the campgrounds, it is fortunately often upwind from the nearby latrines. The facilities are somewhat rustic although conditions have improved over the years. Hot water is available at the communal showers, and flushing toilets were installed in the MainStage area a couple of years ago.

Some of the camps are just a rag tag collection of tents clumped together, others have large canopies and communal kitchens set up. Some of the camps are considered "music camps", and they host songwriter circles in the wee hours after the official performances are over for the night. Often headlining performers will come by the camps and sit in the song circles. There is no telling who you will meet or get to see in the wee hours.

Some music camps are more ad hoc than other. Most have rules of engagement, You sit in a circle and wait your term to perform. Some camps are open to any that want to participate, some are perform by invitation only. The Kerrville FF celebrates songwriters, and most performers, official or otherwise perform original music.

For the last 2 years, I have elected not to bring my Chapman Stick to the festival. In the past, I have been a regular in several song circles and have achieved a little notoriety which is probably more about the unusual and obscure instrument that I play than any other factor. Everyone rubbernecks at a car crash, particularly when an exotic vehicle is involved. ;-)

Not bringing my instrument is somewhat liberating. I am not sitting in circles for hours at a time waiting for my turn. Instead, I get to wander around, take pictures and visit with people I haven't seen since the prior year.

Below are some photos of musicians that graced our little living room at Camp Todo Grande. A number were MainStage performers, others touring professionals or semi pro musicians. All were extraordinarily gifted and generous in sharing their art.