Finding Voices in Photographs
Indigenous Peoples in Eduardo Masferré: People of the Philippine Cordillera 1934–1956
As a communication major, I find it fitting to choose photographs as the primary source for analysis due to the profound significance that can be delineated from visual messages, in how photographs have the unique ability to convey the beautiful and the startling, the arbitrary and the specific, the puzzling yet obvious, and the vivid yet ambiguous narratives. Specifically, I have focused on images of Indigenous People from Mountain Province, Kalinga, and Ifugao, collated in Eduardo Masferre’s book “People of the Philippine Cordillera 1934–1956” published in 1988. Although I could not access a physical and digital copy of the book containing all 150+ photographs, I have instead utilized the selected archive of these photos available from Museum Fünf Kontinente’s page and a preview of Masferre’s other book, “A Tribute to the Philippine Cordillera” (1999) from Google Books.
Photographs serve as primary sources by offering visual evidence of history as it existed at the moment they were taken. They are able to capture details of everyday life that are often absent or difficult to convey in written records. Moreover, photographs evoke emotions in viewers, providing concise information and encapsulating moments of people, places, objects, or events. While one might argue that photographs can be influenced by a photographer’s subjectivity, understanding photography within the broader spectrum of communication reveals that the photographer is merely part of a larger process, in which they can never fully control every element, the context, the subject, the immediate surrounding, especially the interpretation a viewer will assign to their work (Nye, 1986).
I first encountered the Masferre exhibit last year at the Baguio Convention Center for Ibagiw 2023. While I was initially intrigued, it wasn’t until now that I decided to revisit them to explore the “voice” in the photographs. One thing that particularly amused me was not fully realizing (when viewing them last year) that these were photos from the 1930s to the 1950s. In today’s media-saturated world, it’s easy to simply Google “Indigenous People” and access thousands of images. However, understanding that these photographs were taken during that period all the more highlights their significance as a document, having to account the lives of people and their culture when such ways of life were still largely unknown to the rest of the country.
The photos were taken by Eduardo Masferre, a Filipino-Catalan photographer born in Sagada, Mountain Province. From his home, he was well-placed to document the lifestyle of the indigenous people in Cordillera during the mid-20th century. Using skills he had learned as a teenager in the local Anglican mission, he set out to record a way of life that he feared would disappear (Taylor, 1998). The photos span the years from 1934 to 1956, beautifully capturing the region’s spirit and beauty. The images capture panoramic views of indigenous settlements, with houses scattered across rice fields, hillsides, and terraces, while some are situated near swidden or sugar cane fields. In several images, pigs (as garbage control) and chickens (for forage) can be seen freely roaming around these settlements. Some photos prominently feature the traditional Ifugao architecture in the backdrop, with their characteristic wooden and square structures elevated by trunks. The social structure of these communities is apparent from portraits of lakay men, a peace pact holder, a Kalinga family gathered by the hearth, and a Gaddang couple with their hunting dog. The daily lives of the people are depicted through shots of women tilling the soil, a man guiding carabaos to plow the soil, weaving baskets, men drinking rice wine, transplanting rice seedlings, a young man playing a flute while guarding water supplies, women threshing rice, and communal harvests. Artifacts such as a gimata from Bontok, woven blankets and loincloths, and body intricacies such as the Kalinga tattoos — symbols of a man’s bravery in tribal wars and a woman’s wealth and beauty — are also shown.
These photographs vividly highlight the richness and nuances of daily life. And though they are limited by how they were only rendered in black and white film, I think it further accentuates the authenticity, shadows, and beauty of facial features, tattoos, clothing textures, topography, and weaving patterns, even if some are only shown in the backdrop. By documenting these narratives, the photographs celebrate the culture and bestow a new kind of importance on these moments and the people captured in them. Above all, the photos are able to genuinely chronicle the values of ethnic heritage, emphasizing Indigenous identity, traditions, and routines within mundanity and everyday settings. Moreover, such a record elaborates on the significance of photographic anthropological work in understanding ethnic cultures and that capturing such intimate moments requires a deep sense of trust and connection between the community and the photographer.
What I appreciate about photographs as primary sources is their ability to transcend time, allowing various interpretations to be assigned to the work. When significant periods pass between when an image is taken and when it is viewed, it enables contemporary viewers to interpret photos from decades ago in new ways. With this, these photographs gain even greater importance today, as it can be argued that they provide a sense of solidarity in preserving these cultures and people. There aren’t any explicit issues that can be derived from the photos, but some scholars argue that Masferre understood change was inevitable and that by photographing these communities, he was able to preserve Indigenous culture (Taylor, 1998). Furthermore, in a time when their land, identity, and culture continuously face threats from societal changes and external interventions, capturing these narratives becomes a powerful act of preservation.
I find it rather interesting and challenging to find the “voice” in something that is in the first place, visual. But perhaps in the process of exploring voices in photographs, one hopes to understand what it means to look at these images and be prompted to consider actions in response to the emotions evoked and the knowledge conveyed. Although photographs lack syntax or grammar and do not directly articulate (unless there is an accompanying caption), in contrast to a written account aimed at a specific readership, photographs, however, speak a universal language and are destined to potentially reach everyone (Sontag 2004). I think that with internet access to thousands of images and easily accessible information, photographic viewers today have little excuse to be solely limited by curiosity about what is depicted because such agency calls for developing a deeper appreciation for the way of life these images represent. This engagement and attitude are especially crucial in light of the current state of Indigenous peoples, as it helps ensure that their identity and narratives are preserved and translated into voices that, hopefully, just like photographs, resonate across time, language, and cultures.
— My final paper for HIST3, June 2024 (unedited)
References:
Masferre, Eduardo. 1999. “A Tribute to the Philippine Cordillera.” Google Books.https://books.google.com.ph/books?id=UrSHR6OLme8C&pg=PA32&dq=bodong+kalinga&lr=&sig=ACfU3U0VwINCw2pH6yLtjQ4nIT2FkYeT_g&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false.
Museum Funf Kontinente. 2017. “Eduardo Masferré: People of the Philippine Cordillera.” Facebook.com.2017. https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.781120092013130&type=3.
Nye, David. 1986. “Photography as Communication.” The Journal of AmericanCulture.https://www.academia.edu/48510205/Photography_as_Communication.
Sontag, Susan. 2004. Regarding the Pain of Others. Harlow, England: Penguin Books.
Taylor, Paul Michael. “Interpreting Eduardo Masferré’s Photographs of the Peoples of Highland Luzon.” Nos Otros: Anales Del Museo Nacional De Antropología [Madrid] 5 (1998): 139–58.
