{"id":65000,"date":"2026-09-30T09:46:49","date_gmt":"2026-09-30T07:46:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/andanafoto.com\/?p=65000"},"modified":"2026-10-05T14:36:25","modified_gmt":"2026-10-05T12:36:25","slug":"where-are-we-looking-from-photography-power-and-representation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/andanafoto.com\/en\/where-are-we-looking-from-photography-power-and-representation\/","title":{"rendered":"Where Are We Looking From? Photography, Power and Representation"},"content":{"rendered":"

Photography, Power and Representation<\/strong><\/span><\/h1>\n

What kind of imaginary do we construct when we repeatedly represent a reality in a particular way?<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

We are used to thinking that a photograph shows something that was already there. That the camera records an event and that the more faithfully the image reflects what happened, the more objective its representation will be.<\/span><\/p>\n

But photography is not simply about recording.<\/span><\/p>\n

Before an image reaches our eyes, many things have already happened: someone has decided where to position themselves, what to include in the frame, what to leave out, from what distance to look, when to press the shutter and which image to select afterwards. And once published, that photograph enters a particular context: it appears alongside a headline, words, other images and a particular way of telling what happened.<\/span><\/p>\n

This is why a photograph can be truthful and, at the same time, not be neutral.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every image offers a situated perspective. It allows us to see something, while at the same time leaving other things outside our field of vision. It can bring us closer to a reality or turn it into a category. It can restore a person’s individuality or visually transform them into part of a group. It can make an experience visible or contribute to certain ways of looking becoming the only ones we recognise as possible.<\/span><\/p>\n

The question, therefore, is not only what a photograph shows, but also from where that gaze has been constructed, what power relations shape it and what imaginaries are produced through its repetition.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

This question becomes especially relevant when we photograph realities shaped by social inequalities, borders, migration, poverty, exclusion or conflict. In these contexts, seemingly formal decisions \u2014distance, angle, framing, selection or repetition\u2014 can also have consequences for the way certain people are perceived and understood.<\/span><\/p>\n

Photography does not merely document reality. It also participates in constructing what we understand as reality.<\/span><\/p>\n

And if every gaze is situated, then certain questions arise:<\/span><\/p>\n

Who is looking?<\/span>
\nFrom where are they looking?<\/span>
\nWho is allowed to be looked at?<\/span>
\nAnd who has the possibility of constructing their own representation?<\/span><\/p>\n

To explore these questions, we can focus on a specific case: the way in which the arrival of migrants in Ceuta has been represented through photography.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At the end of July 2026, an extraordinarily large number of migrants entered Ceuta. The photographic coverage showed, among other things, large groups arriving by sea, people running across the beaches, soldiers and police officers forming barriers, people being escorted towards the border and rescues in the water. A month later, RTVE reported more than 50,000 arrivals and more than 5,000 people who remained in the city.<\/span><\/p>\n

An aerial photograph, or one taken from an elevated position, showing hundreds or thousands of people moving towards a border can be documentarily truthful. What it shows happened. But its factual truth does not exhaust its meaning.<\/span><\/p>\n

Framing, distance, repetition and selection can transform individual people<\/strong> into a mass<\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Before continuing, pause for a moment. Look at some of the photographs through which what happened in Ceuta has been visually narrated. Then come back here and ask yourself a question: from where are we looking?<\/span><\/p>\n

You can see here<\/a> the photographs and RTVE’s photographic coverage of the arrivals in Ceuta in July 2026.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What kind of imaginary do we construct when we repeatedly represent a reality in a particular way?<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Names, biographies, reasons for migrating and family relationships disappear; practically every trace of individuality disappears.<\/span><\/p>\n

What remains visually is a crowd moving towards \u201cus\u201d. And this is where the political dimension of the image emerges.<\/span><\/p>\n

This question about the position from which we look is not new. It has been explored across different fields of thought and is particularly compelling in Donna Haraway’s work on situated knowledges.<\/span><\/p>\n

Donna Haraway, an American scholar, specifically challenges the fantasy of a gaze capable of observing the world from nowhere<\/strong>, as though the person looking had no body, position, history or interests.<\/span><\/p>\n

In her 1988 essay, she argues that all knowledge is shaped by the specific social, physical and historical context of the person observing it.<\/span><\/p>\n

She uses the concept of the \u201cgod trick\u201d<\/strong> (the “God trick”) to critique traditional scientific objectivity as the illusion of seeing everything from nowhere. She considers it a disembodied point of view that claims universal truth while concealing its own position of power. In contrast, she proposes situated knowledges: every gaze comes from a particular position, <\/span>and our vision is limited and located. Acknowledging our specific position allows us to construct more honest, responsible and precise claims.<\/span><\/p>\n

Knowledge is produced by real, physical bodies in specific places.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Every photograph is a situated gaze.
\nThe person taking the photograph never looks \u201cfrom nowhere\u201d: they look from a body, a history,
\na social position, a territory and a particular relationship with what they photograph.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

The camera never looks from nowhere. <\/strong>It is above or below, close or far away, on this side of the border or the other, alongside the police or alongside those crossing, with a telephoto lens or a 50mm lens\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

And each of these positions produces a different visual reality<\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n

That is why we can choose one of those general images of Ceuta and say: This photograph may be truthful. But it is not a neutral gaze.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

The question is not only what we see. The question is where we are looking from and who makes and shares the image. <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

For John Berger, looking is never an innocent act. This question is one of the central themes of Ways of Seeing. <\/em>His work challenges the apparent naturalness of images and invites us to investigate the ideologies and social relations embedded in forms of representation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Images are not harmless.<\/strong> They do not simply show the world. They also participate in constructing the categories through which we later think about the world.<\/span><\/p>\n

When we see a person swimming exhausted towards a beach, we have a particular experience.<\/span><\/p>\n

When we see thousands of people from above, the perceptual experience changes. We see volume, movement, border, control; it is no longer an individual, but a crowd.<\/span><\/p>\n

What happens when the accumulation of certain images ends up visually constructing migration as a mass moving forward, a wave arriving, a border being overwhelmed?<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Here, even verbal and visual language can reinforce one another<\/strong>. In the coverage, we find expressions such as \u201cmass arrival\u201d, \u201coverwhelmed\u201d or groups being escorted towards the border.<\/span><\/p>\n

The imaginary can be constructed through accumulation.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What disappears when we frame?<\/strong><\/span><\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

The frame conditions which lives we come to recognise<\/em>
\nJudith Butler<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

For Judith Butler (2009), the frames through which we see and represent the world are never neutral: they organise our perception and condition which lives appear recognisable, valuable and worthy of mourning.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because the frame does two things simultaneously: it shows and excludes.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

When we photograph hundreds of migrants entering Ceuta, we show something real: the scale of the event.<\/span><\/p>\n

But that same framing can leave out:<\/span><\/p>\n