Tag Archives: visual sociology

Docklands Walk

Yesterday I spent a wonderful morning with the final year DBS Social Science students who braved the cold winds to come with me on a walk in the Dublin Docklands to discover how globalisation and de-industrialisation have impacted the landscapes and communities of the city.

I’m looking forward to seeing the photos they took for their visual sociology assignment!

docklands

visualising urban change

Last month, I taught three lectures on urban change as part of an introductory module for first year social science students. We discussed how global economic processes impact on urban planning decisions, and we considered gentrification, suburbanisation, and the role of both tourism and recession in relation to the development of a city. We ended on a discussion about ways in which city dwellers can redefine their sense of place, and looked at examples such as urban farming, allotments and graffiti. While we focussed mostly on Dublin, we also examined other cities in transition such as Detroit and Havana.

However, the reason I include a post about this module on the blog is that we also considered research methods for documenting, exploring and understanding urban change. You could look at some statistics. Or a map. You could examine policy or literary accounts.

Or, you could use visual methods. Which is what we did.

As part of us working through the ideas covered in class, I asked the students to go on a ‘photowalk’, and take pictures of examples of places where they saw evidence of the processes we had discussed in class. We got some great results, and in the last class we practiced ‘reading’ photographs by using the students’ images as examples.

I think they enjoyed it. I certainly did.

visual activism – call for papers

Any thoughts on visual activism? Then check out this call for papers for the Thematic Group on Visual Sociology at the upcoming ISA Forum in Buenos Aires, August 2012.

If someone would only pay for me to go, I’d be there, this looks amazing!

Like cycling barefoot

So, I have been musing about the deeper meaning of this Eroica thing. You know, that vintage bicycle event, where people of all ages, genders and fitness levels dress up in retro gear and haul themselves and their outdated steel frame machines up and down the gravelly hills of Tuscany – for no apparent prize or reward whatsoever.

An email from one of the participants put things in perspective for me. Elena, pictured below, explained that she carried with her, for the full 135 km, her first set of skis from her childhood. Apparently she grew up in the foothills of the Alps, and when she was small her parents used to cycle to the ski resorts. This, I guess is where she got her lasting love of all things naturey – she now runs an outdoor-activity-holidays business for a living.

But, back to the skis at L’Eroica. Although small in size they can only have made the ride more difficult for her, they served no purpose on the day, and yet she deliberately brought them along. Now, why would she do that? And why have been finding myself thinking about restoring my grandmother’s bike from 1958 to take part in the race next year? (This borders on insanity, as the bike has no gears and weighs half a tonne, right?) In fact, why would anyone, in their right frame of mind, not choose a modern, comfortable, lightweight bike, and cycle it on decent concrete roads? What made 4,000 people choose to do things the hard way on Oct 2nd this year?

Well, let’s consider for a moment who else voluntarily puts themselves through such ridiculous hardships. Mountain climbers. Arctic adventurers. Sometimes humans engage in practices that seem to contradict our basic needs for comfort and survival. There are, of course, emotional rewards in doing something difficult, in challenging yourself and succeeding. Getting to the mountain top. Reaching the North Pole. Such feats bestow upon the person the right to feel pride, and often a higher level of status as compared to us mere mortals who prefer to explore mountains via the telly.

But, what strikes me about L’Eroica is not just the voluntary suffering. It is also the treasured objects, the childhood skis, the jersey worn by the rider’s father twenty years ago now resurrected by the son. Any of the vintage bicycles that were used on the day. Painstakingly and carefully restored, the bikes are clearly precious to their owners, imbued with meanings and values that someone outside the vintage bicycle community might not immediately ‘get’. They are magical objects, sacred totems, as Durkheim would say, and riding them, wearing them, or carrying them with you through the heat and dust, allows you to connect with something out-of-the-ordinary. It transports you away from everyday life, to another realm, where past and present collapse into something simpler. Where your entire being is focussed on getting up the next hill, to the next checkpoint, to the finish line.

I think of L’Eroica as a modern form of pilgrimage. No longer tied to any creed or religious organisation, it is a spiritual ritual in is simplest form. There is you. And the bike. And perhaps a magical object or two, to help you invoke whatever values or memories you have invested in them.

For Durkheim, religious ritual held society together. Here, it creates in the participants a feeling of belonging to a community, even though it is a temporary one. I discussed that in my last post. But it also sets the ‘heroic’ vintage riders apart from their contemporary counterparts with their light carbon frames and aerodynamic helmets. It reinforces in them particular values and ways of being. It is an annual ritual that celebrates the past and allows participants to step back into it, away from the individualism, consumerism and competitiveness that characterise life in the present. To enter a time when hard work, beautiful craftsmanship and participation counted more than coming first. When all that really mattered was getting up that dusty hill.

More pictures here.

What does ideology look like?

Continuing on from my previous post, I am uploading a few more of the photos I took as part of the data collection for my PhD research on the Irish organic food movement.

In the case of the organic food movement, the ideology that inspires producers and consumers can best be described as one based around the ideas of biodiversity and coexistence. This translates, practically, into everyday attempts at finding ways of producing, transporting, and consuming food, that do not endanger other species. It requires practical experimentation and ingenuity. It leads to flexibility, openness, and a whole new approach to farming. But, what does it look like?
Below are a couple of images taken during my PhD research on organic farms. I suggest they represent some of the values and beliefs of the organic movement.


Fig 1. ‘Weeds’ and ‘wildflowers’ grow side by side with the cultivated crop on an organic farm, Co Cork. Despite being a commercially successful enterprise, and a farm selected by Teagasc for the national series of open days, the farmer here contributes an alternative meaning to wild plants, and proudly points them out to visitors to the farm as a ‘proof’ of the success of his attempts at preserving local biodiversity.


Fig 2 & 3. An old bus sits, apparently abandoned, in the middle of an organic pasture. However, upon closer inspection, we can see that the bus has been converted to house a flock of laying hens, that roam the farm during the day. It thus reflects both the concern for the welfare of food animals we find among organic producers (allowing for truly free range egg production), and the sort of inventions through trial and error that characterise many organic enterprises.

For more information on this project, or for copies of the relevant thesis chapters, leave a comment here or send me a mail.

Sharing knowledge

These days I am mostly working on turning my PhD research into publications. The research explored the construction, use and diffusion of skills and ideas among producers and consumers of organic food. I spent time participating and talking to people on organic farms, at events and during market days. I looked at publications, books and websites produced by members of the organic food movement. And of course, I took some photographs that served as data along with interview transcripts and observation notes. Unfortunately, it will not be possible to publish those images in the journals I have chosen to submit the articles to, so let’s have a quick look at some of them before they go into storage and leave my pc forever.

The first two images illustrate practices for teaching and sharing ideas, skills and information about the production and consumption of organic food. I argue in the thesis that these practices differ from those in the conventional food system, which is characterised by a lack of dialogue:


Caption: Patterson (2006) argues that, in commercial retail outlets, the combined processes of industrialisation and new trends in architecture combine to encourage an individual shopping experience based on looking. Here, however, an abundance of different varieties of vegetables and an open spatial layout encourage consumers to communicate with one another and with the stallholder.

On the other hand, some members of the organic food movement are more knowledgeable than others, and knowledge transmission can temporarily become a one-way phenomenon:

Caption: At a farmwalk, the host dons a bright yellow safety vest and guides visitors around his land. Arriving at a shed he climbs onto a bale of hay, temporarily elevating himself to the status of expert, addressing his audience from above and pointing out various features of the building. In the foreground can be seen a piece of equipment for sowing grass seeds developed by the farmer himself.

For more information on this project, or for copies of the relevant thesis chapters, leave a comment here or send me a mail.
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Ref: Patterson, M (2006) Consumption and Everyday Life. London: Routledge