A New Zealand Photographer's 'Poetic Journey' Into Papua New Guinea's Past
Forty-eight years ago, a young New Zealand photographer set off on a brief solo journey into the remote Papua New Guinea Highlands.
Victoria Ginn is now in her seventies and has a gallery in the small Taranaki town of Normanby.
That trip, almost five decades ago, was the first in a series of exotic trips she undertook and resulted in a remarkable collection of photographs of the indigenous people, which she has called 'A Welcome Adventure'.
Victoria Ginn spoke with RNZ Pacific.
(This transcript has been edited for brevity and clarity.)
Don Wiseman: So when you were 23 years old, and I guess, a fairly inexperienced photographer, you took yourself off on your own into the Papua New Guinea Highlands. Why did you do that?
Victoria Ginn: Well, I probably wasn't as inexperienced as you state. I began photography when I was about 14 years old, in the 1960s, after a friend of mine realised I could take good photographs. He gave me his Leica camera, and I self taught.
I was interested in human culture and nature right from day dot really. Why I took myself into the Papua New Guinea Highlands at the age of 23, probably a yearning to connect with a deeper part of my own self and also a deeper part of the human culture, than was represented in my own modern culture, in terms of 1970s modern Melbourne, Australia, and that sort of system.
I was probably a natural photographer in terms of my yearning to use a camera as a way to connect with people. It is a form of connection, photography, or was. Nowadays it is a form of intrusion and narcissism.
But back then it was an art form, and it mesmerised me to know that you could translate a moment in reality into something that was a beautiful essence of somebody through black and white portraiture and a moment in time, where you saw an emotion or an expression or a sense of the self that was portrayed In another person.
It was never intrusive photography. When photography became fashionable in the 1970s, art photography became fashionable in the 1970s through the production of a book by Diane Arbus, and everyone had to be a photographer, sort of thing.
But photography in a way, became corrupted by wide angle lenses and people not realising the sensitivity of the other, meaning the subject, and a lot of deceitful photography happened that was calling itself art photography at that time.
DW: It's still very difficult on a number of levels to access the Papua New Guinea Highlands. But in 1977 and on your own, it would have been very, very difficult.
VG: Yes, it was. But I was an adventurer. I enjoyed the attraction of the unknown and the challenge of finding a way into an area of such remoteness in the world, where there was not a pollution of modernity, if you like, upon the peoples that I wanted to meet.
So yes, it was difficult. It was basically bussing up the Highlands into the Highlands, and then finding ways to get around. And I did have some fairly hairy encounters, not with the local people, but with imports, imported construction managers and things like people from Australia.
Papua New Guinea was only two years into its independence at that time, so there was still a very raw aspect to the confusion between what was meant to be and what was, where you have an important psyche, like the Australian mentality, wanting to civilise and develop a country, and you had the indigenous people who had stayed sane and intact and culturally together and had a very rich, beautiful culture that was kind of timeless.
DW: How did you communicate?
VG: That is an interesting one, because I discovered the art of non verbal communication, and it sounds stupid or nonsensical, but there is a way. I developed it later, when I was travelling through other remote regions of the South Pacific and Southeast Asia, particularly.
There's a way to communicate that does not require speech in terms of your tongue, and it becomes a very basic, essential, means of communication, which involves gesture, but it also involves something that is unspoken, and it is very difficult to describe that, and you connect.
It is about someone connecting to you, and you connecting to them on a level that is not cerebral, and it is not through your tongue, so not through speech. I used that method. It grew on me. It developed. I was not there long enough to become adept at that sort of thing, but I got a taste of it, and I learned how you can communicate without language.
I have spent time in a lot of different cultures using that means.
DW: This happened back in 1977, so 48 years ago. Why has it taken you so long to bring a book out?
VG: I have gone backwards, looking at my work, in a way, I'm going backwards. I am in my 70s now, and I mean, I have had other work that propelled me to do other creative essays that I was prompted to do by my own artistry, and that has come to an end.
I am no longer a photographer, so I am more a writer now, and I am looking backwards and tidying up my life, you could say.
And it is a beautiful little essay. It is a very poetic essay which portrays a form of gentleness, contrary to what is happening in Papua New Guinea today. It is a counterbalance to what is what is occurring in the Highlands today, which is now a lawless place where people have had their essential culture stripped from them by the incursion of missionaries and what have you, and mining companies and so on.
It gives voice to a portrait of a people.
DW: You've visited a number of places, as you say, remote areas around the Pacific, particularly, where does this adventure into the PNG Highlands in 1977 sit?
VG: That is a hard one. I think the last big work I did in the South Pacific and Southeast Asia was called The Spirited Earth, which was subtitled dance, myth and ritual from South Asia to the South Pacific, which was a philosophical look at the religious and spiritual forms of expression through performance art and ritual in those regions.
Mostly color photography. Back in 77 you could say this was a stepping stone to my awareness of the depth of understanding of the spiritual aspects of the human psyche within a people that were so called prehistoric and primitive. It's candid work.
It is more portraiture, portraiture in terms of face rather than form or body, which my book, The Spirited Earth, looks at the complete picture of face and form and body and environment.
This is mainly a portrait, and it's a poetic portrait which involves the poetry of the people, but also the more prosaic sort of day to day, here am I sitting in a marketplace, or here am I pulling my bow and arrow, carrying my grasses from the fields and so on.
It is more a documentary portrait than an artistic portrait, but it contains artistry, of course.
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5 days ago
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A New Zealand Photographer's 'Poetic Journey' Into Papua New Guinea's Past
, RNZ Pacific senior journalist Forty-eight years ago, a young New Zealand photographer set off on a brief solo journey into the remote Papua New Guinea Highlands. Victoria Ginn is now in her seventies and has a gallery in the small Taranaki town of Normanby. That trip, almost five decades ago, was the first in a series of exotic trips she undertook and resulted in a remarkable collection of photographs of the indigenous people, which she has called 'A Welcome Adventure'. Victoria Ginn spoke with RNZ Pacific. (This transcript has been edited for brevity and clarity.) Don Wiseman: So when you were 23 years old, and I guess, a fairly inexperienced photographer, you took yourself off on your own into the Papua New Guinea Highlands. Why did you do that? Victoria Ginn: Well, I probably wasn't as inexperienced as you state. I began photography when I was about 14 years old, in the 1960s, after a friend of mine realised I could take good photographs. He gave me his Leica camera, and I self taught. I was interested in human culture and nature right from day dot really. Why I took myself into the Papua New Guinea Highlands at the age of 23, probably a yearning to connect with a deeper part of my own self and also a deeper part of the human culture, than was represented in my own modern culture, in terms of 1970s modern Melbourne, Australia, and that sort of system. I was probably a natural photographer in terms of my yearning to use a camera as a way to connect with people. It is a form of connection, photography, or was. Nowadays it is a form of intrusion and narcissism. But back then it was an art form, and it mesmerised me to know that you could translate a moment in reality into something that was a beautiful essence of somebody through black and white portraiture and a moment in time, where you saw an emotion or an expression or a sense of the self that was portrayed In another person. It was never intrusive photography. When photography became fashionable in the 1970s, art photography became fashionable in the 1970s through the production of a book by Diane Arbus, and everyone had to be a photographer, sort of thing. But photography in a way, became corrupted by wide angle lenses and people not realising the sensitivity of the other, meaning the subject, and a lot of deceitful photography happened that was calling itself art photography at that time. DW: It's still very difficult on a number of levels to access the Papua New Guinea Highlands. But in 1977 and on your own, it would have been very, very difficult. VG: Yes, it was. But I was an adventurer. I enjoyed the attraction of the unknown and the challenge of finding a way into an area of such remoteness in the world, where there was not a pollution of modernity, if you like, upon the peoples that I wanted to meet. So yes, it was difficult. It was basically bussing up the Highlands into the Highlands, and then finding ways to get around. And I did have some fairly hairy encounters, not with the local people, but with imports, imported construction managers and things like people from Australia. Papua New Guinea was only two years into its independence at that time, so there was still a very raw aspect to the confusion between what was meant to be and what was, where you have an important psyche, like the Australian mentality, wanting to civilise and develop a country, and you had the indigenous people who had stayed sane and intact and culturally together and had a very rich, beautiful culture that was kind of timeless. DW: How did you communicate? VG: That is an interesting one, because I discovered the art of non verbal communication, and it sounds stupid or nonsensical, but there is a way. I developed it later, when I was travelling through other remote regions of the South Pacific and Southeast Asia, particularly. There's a way to communicate that does not require speech in terms of your tongue, and it becomes a very basic, essential, means of communication, which involves gesture, but it also involves something that is unspoken, and it is very difficult to describe that, and you connect. It is about someone connecting to you, and you connecting to them on a level that is not cerebral, and it is not through your tongue, so not through speech. I used that method. It grew on me. It developed. I was not there long enough to become adept at that sort of thing, but I got a taste of it, and I learned how you can communicate without language. I have spent time in a lot of different cultures using that means. DW: This happened back in 1977, so 48 years ago. Why has it taken you so long to bring a book out? VG: I have gone backwards, looking at my work, in a way, I'm going backwards. I am in my 70s now, and I mean, I have had other work that propelled me to do other creative essays that I was prompted to do by my own artistry, and that has come to an end. I am no longer a photographer, so I am more a writer now, and I am looking backwards and tidying up my life, you could say. And it is a beautiful little essay. It is a very poetic essay which portrays a form of gentleness, contrary to what is happening in Papua New Guinea today. It is a counterbalance to what is what is occurring in the Highlands today, which is now a lawless place where people have had their essential culture stripped from them by the incursion of missionaries and what have you, and mining companies and so on. It gives voice to a portrait of a people. DW: You've visited a number of places, as you say, remote areas around the Pacific, particularly, where does this adventure into the PNG Highlands in 1977 sit? VG: That is a hard one. I think the last big work I did in the South Pacific and Southeast Asia was called The Spirited Earth, which was subtitled dance, myth and ritual from South Asia to the South Pacific, which was a philosophical look at the religious and spiritual forms of expression through performance art and ritual in those regions. Mostly color photography. Back in 77 you could say this was a stepping stone to my awareness of the depth of understanding of the spiritual aspects of the human psyche within a people that were so called prehistoric and primitive. It's candid work. It is more portraiture, portraiture in terms of face rather than form or body, which my book, The Spirited Earth, looks at the complete picture of face and form and body and environment. This is mainly a portrait, and it's a poetic portrait which involves the poetry of the people, but also the more prosaic sort of day to day, here am I sitting in a marketplace, or here am I pulling my bow and arrow, carrying my grasses from the fields and so on. It is more a documentary portrait than an artistic portrait, but it contains artistry, of course.
RNZ News
5 days ago
- RNZ News
A New Zealand photographer's 'poetic journey' into Papua New Guinea's past
From A Welcome Adventure by Victoria Ginn. Photo: Supplied Forty-eight years ago, a young New Zealand photographer set off on a brief solo journey into the remote Papua New Guinea Highlands. Victoria Ginn is now in her seventies and has a gallery in the small Taranaki town of Normanby. That trip, almost five decades ago, was the first in a series of exotic trips she undertook and resulted in a remarkable collection of photographs of the indigenous people, which she has called 'A Welcome Adventure' . Victoria Ginn spoke with RNZ Pacific. Kabo – the Sorcerer, from A Welcome Adventure into the PNG Highlands, 1997 by Victoria Ginn. Photo: Supplied (This transcript has been edited for brevity and clarity.) Don Wiseman: So when you were 23 years old, and I guess, a fairly inexperienced photographer, you took yourself off on your own into the Papua New Guinea Highlands. Why did you do that? Victoria Ginn: Well, I probably wasn't as inexperienced as you state. I began photography when I was about 14 years old, in the 1960s, after a friend of mine realised I could take good photographs. He gave me his Leica camera, and I self taught. I was interested in human culture and nature right from day dot really. Why I took myself into the Papua New Guinea Highlands at the age of 23, probably a yearning to connect with a deeper part of my own self and also a deeper part of the human culture, than was represented in my own modern culture, in terms of 1970s modern Melbourne, Australia, and that sort of system. I was probably a natural photographer in terms of my yearning to use a camera as a way to connect with people. It is a form of connection, photography, or was. Nowadays it is a form of intrusion and narcissism. From A Welcome Adventure by Victoria Ginn. Photo: Supplied But back then it was an art form, and it mesmerised me to know that you could translate a moment in reality into something that was a beautiful essence of somebody through black and white portraiture and a moment in time, where you saw an emotion or an expression or a sense of the self that was portrayed In another person. It was never intrusive photography. When photography became fashionable in the 1970s, art photography became fashionable in the 1970s through the production of a book by Diane Arbus, and everyone had to be a photographer, sort of thing. But photography in a way, became corrupted by wide angle lenses and people not realising the sensitivity of the other, meaning the subject, and a lot of deceitful photography happened that was calling itself art photography at that time. DW: It's still very difficult on a number of levels to access the Papua New Guinea Highlands. But in 1977 and on your own, it would have been very, very difficult. VG: Yes, it was. But I was an adventurer. I enjoyed the attraction of the unknown and the challenge of finding a way into an area of such remoteness in the world, where there was not a pollution of modernity, if you like, upon the peoples that I wanted to meet. So yes, it was difficult. It was basically bussing up the Highlands into the Highlands, and then finding ways to get around. And I did have some fairly hairy encounters, not with the local people, but with imports, imported construction managers and things like people from Australia. Papua New Guinea was only two years into its independence at that time, so there was still a very raw aspect to the confusion between what was meant to be and what was, where you have an important psyche, like the Australian mentality, wanting to civilise and develop a country, and you had the indigenous people who had stayed sane and intact and culturally together and had a very rich, beautiful culture that was kind of timeless. From A Welcome Adventure by Victoria Ginn. Photo: Supplied DW: How did you communicate? VG: That is an interesting one, because I discovered the art of non verbal communication, and it sounds stupid or nonsensical, but there is a way. I developed it later, when I was travelling through other remote regions of the South Pacific and Southeast Asia, particularly. There's a way to communicate that does not require speech in terms of your tongue, and it becomes a very basic, essential, means of communication, which involves gesture, but it also involves something that is unspoken, and it is very difficult to describe that, and you connect. It is about someone connecting to you, and you connecting to them on a level that is not cerebral, and it is not through your tongue, so not through speech. I used that method. It grew on me. It developed. I was not there long enough to become adept at that sort of thing, but I got a taste of it, and I learned how you can communicate without language. I have spent time in a lot of different cultures using that means. DW: This happened back in 1977, so 48 years ago. Why has it taken you so long to bring a book out? VG: I have gone backwards, looking at my work, in a way, I'm going backwards. I am in my 70s now, and I mean, I have had other work that propelled me to do other creative essays that I was prompted to do by my own artistry, and that has come to an end. I am no longer a photographer, so I am more a writer now, and I am looking backwards and tidying up my life, you could say. And it is a beautiful little essay. It is a very poetic essay which portrays a form of gentleness, contrary to what is happening in Papua New Guinea today. It is a counterbalance to what is what is occurring in the Highlands today, which is now a lawless place where people have had their essential culture stripped from them by the incursion of missionaries and what have you, and mining companies and so on. It gives voice to a portrait of a people. DW: You've visited a number of places, as you say, remote areas around the Pacific, particularly, where does this adventure into the PNG Highlands in 1977 sit? VG: That is a hard one. I think the last big work I did in the South Pacific and Southeast Asia was called The Spirited Earth , which was subtitled dance, myth and ritual from South Asia to the South Pacific, which was a philosophical look at the religious and spiritual forms of expression through performance art and ritual in those regions. Mostly color photography. Back in 77 you could say this was a stepping stone to my awareness of the depth of understanding of the spiritual aspects of the human psyche within a people that were so called prehistoric and primitive. It's candid work. It is more portraiture, portraiture in terms of face rather than form or body, which my book, The Spirited Earth , looks at the complete picture of face and form and body and environment. This is mainly a portrait, and it's a poetic portrait which involves the poetry of the people, but also the more prosaic sort of day to day, here am I sitting in a marketplace, or here am I pulling my bow and arrow, carrying my grasses from the fields and so on. It is more a documentary portrait than an artistic portrait, but it contains artistry, of course.
Scoop
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Running The Show: The Youngsters Behind The Scenes At The Pacific Mini Games
Article – RNZ An unexpected group has been playing a key role in making the Mini Games a success. , RNZ Pacific digital journalist in Koror, Palau As the Pacific Mini Games heads towards to its closing ceremony, the spotlight remains firmly on the athletes, teams, and the sporting achievements making headlines across the region. But behind the scenes, an unexpected group has been playing a key role in making the Games a success – Palau's young people. RNZ Pacific caught up with a few of the youngsters to see how things have been going so far. The Games' 10-year-old photographer One standout is 10-year-old Yoshi, a local Palauan who has taken on one of the most important jobs at any event: photography. The ten-year-old's approach is simple; he loves capturing moments that 'make people happy'. 'So, my name is Yoshi. I'm from Palau. My work here is as a photographer,' he said. Yoshi has been working since the opening ceremony, covering events with his uncle's camera. 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But he's handling it all like a pro. 13-year-old police officer Thirteen-year old Tadashi has been under the pump for the entirety of the Games, stepping up to the plate as a police officer. Proudly repping his police vest, Tadashi said the venture is all about keeping athletes, spectators, and visitors safe and comfortable. 'My job is to protect the athletes and other people who are here to come and watch the games,' he said. 'To make them feel safe and comfortable and [so] no arguments happen here at the Games.' His daily routine involves patrolling the event grounds, guiding cars, driving carts, and keeping an eye on any shenanigans. 'It's pretty fun. It's a pretty cool experience… no crazy things have happened so far,' he laughed. He will be on duty right up until the closing ceremony, which is expected to be busy, and therefore strenuous. 'It can be fun; it can also be a bit stressful too,' he said. When asked if his future career is aligned with his current role, Tadashi is sure about becoming an officer. 'Yes, I do want to be a police officer,' he said. 'Because you want to protect people and keep them safe. My family is very proud of me for helping protect everybody here… I have made them proud.' The 19-year-old presenter Delaney Termeteet, 19-years old, has been a stand-out at the Pacific Mini Games. A Palauan local, she has captured attention across the region as host of The Daily Highlights, a local programme bringing daily coverage of the Games to viewers in Palau and across the region. 'This is the first time I've done anything or contributed to anything this large,' Termeteet said. Before the Games, she interned as a host on All Around the Island, a local show focused on youth and community events. However, hosting a regional broadcast watched by thousands has been a considerable leap in her career. 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Without that small role, that picture wouldn't be a masterpiece,' she said. Young basket runners Nine-year-olds Teah, Ayami, and Rico, along with 10-year-old Mizuki, are among the youngest volunteers in Koror. And they've been hard at work behind the scenes at the swimming events. Over several days, the energetic team have been running up and down the swim aisles, helping make sure athletes' gear is sorted and ready to go. 'So we switch the baskets [in and out] once the swimmers' stuff is inside,' Rico said. 'We switch the empty ones with full baskets… it is an important job, it is fun – usually I like volunteering and helping people.' When asked about what their favourite part of the job was: 'It's good to have something important to do,' Mizuki said. 'And we like making baskets. I swim… my favourite team is the Cook Islands; they're really nice,' Ayami added. For Teah, it's the people who've made the biggest impression. 'I think my favourite thing here is meeting all the new people and helping the people who are in need,' Teah added. The young volunteers at the Pacific Mini Games have certainly shown that age is no barrier to making a meaningful impact – and they will continue to do so right up until the final day on July 9.
