a T o KNOW A MAN FROM HIS FACE

a
T o KNOW A MAN FROM HIS FACE":
PHOTO WALLAHS AND THE USES OF VISUAL ANTHROPOLOGY
CHRISTOPHER PINNEY
SCHOOL OF ORIENTAL AND AFRICAN STUDIES
UNIVERSITY OF LONDON
Mahatma Gandhi recounts an intriguing incident in his
autobiography. While in London studying at the Bar,
Gandhi approached Dadabhai Naoroji1 for advice as to
what an aspirant lawyer should read to succeed in his job.
Naoroji responded that "a vakil [lawyer] should know
human nature. He should be able to read a man's
character from his face" (Gandhi 1991:70). To this end
he suggested that Gandhi read Lavater's and
Shemmelpennick's books on physiognomy. Gandhi
records:
I was extremely grateful to my venerable friend. In
his presence I found all my fear gone, but as soon as
I left him I began to worry again. "To know a man
from his face" was the question that haunted me, as
I thought of the two books on my way home... I read
Lavater's book and found it more difficult than
Snell's Equity and scarcely interesting. I studied
Shakespeare's physiognomy, but did not acquire the
knack of finding out the Shakespeares walking up
and down the streets of London. Lavater's book did
not add to my knowledge... (1991: 70)
"To know a man from his face" might also serve as an
epigram for David and Judith MacDougall's fascinating
Photo Wallahs, subtitled an encounter withphotography in
Mussoorie, a north Indian hill station. Local practices of
"portraiture" are a central concern of the film and raise
several issues which I shall comment on below.
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Onfirstviewing, the film appears to be a haphazard
selection ofdiverse opinions about picture-making. David
MacDougall himself recently commented on its three
"movements" and described it as "a kind of scattering of
images, with a certain kaleidoscopic feeling to itw
(1992a:98). It is perhaps worth adding that without the
benefit of David MacDougall's interesting exegesis
(1992a) I would have been unaware of the "three
movements." I am still not sure precisely where they are
within the film but his exegesis gave me an increased
understanding and enjoyment of the film on subsequent
viewings. Partly for this reason I will start by emphasizing
the presence ofthis putative structurewithin the film and
attempt to convey some sense of the content and concern
of the film through MacDougall's written explanation.
The introductory section — showing schoolboys
posing for a formal studio portrait, the artist Bishmber
Dutt2 with life-size cut-outs of celebrities and local
deceased persons, and an antiques dealer rifling through
a draw of curling images depicting the Jaipur royal
family, the Great Indian Peninsular railway and a large
painted portrait of the Maharaja ofAlwar overlain with
gold — introduces the viewer to the diversity of
photographic practices in Mussoorie. We are also shown
a magnificent elephant adorned with swastikas and the
mantra "Sri Ram" and a crowd engrossed in the
Doordarshan television epic of the Mahabharata.
Thefirst"movement" ofthe film is then signaled by
the tracking of the camera above Mussoorie as we are
Visual Anthropology Review
fhmour
\J|
STUDIO
PHOTO
ARTI •
R. S. SHARMA, PROPRIETOR OF GLAMOUR STUDIO, IN PHOTO WALLAHS.
taken by cable-car to Gun Hill where decamping tourists
gaze at the Himalayas, and dress as tnbals, sheiks, or
parodies of western guitar-strumming hippies. Bodies
can be dressed in a limitless range of identities — as
Pathan frontiersmen, Kashmiri women, gun-wielding
dacoits, and village women posing coyly with decorated
earthenware matkas. A jovial Sikh photographer, H. S.
Chadha (MacDougall 1992b: 104) offers a client most of
the national styles of turban ("Haryana, Rajasthani,
Punjabi, Gujarati"). This cosmopolitan sartorial excess
recalls Appadurai's (1988) observation3 that through its
inclusion of regional items much middle-class food
simulates a national cohesion. Edibility and wearability
stand as parallel idioms of national integration. Near the
beginning of the film the antiques dealer flicks through
an empty Victorian album; on Gun Hill it is as if
contemporary Indians rejecting aspects of colonial
ethnicization through physique, costume and other
external signifiers have arrived at a strategy of mutual
mimicry, a reciprocal consumabihty in which — in front
Visual Anthropology Review
of the camera at least — identities are suspended and
inverted.
Then cu t to R. S. Sharma opening the premises of his
Glamour Studio, unlocking the foldingwooden doors to
the accompaniment of the hooting of passing lorries.
Inside he offers incense to chromolithographs of the
deities Durga and Shiva. Like all popular religious
Hindu imagery they are brightly colored, but in
photography at least the color process involves, for
Sharma, a loss oflocal control, as simple artisanal processes
are replaced by machine-color processors and printers.
We see him posing and photographing married couples
whose final black and white images are all formulaically
full facewith the wife on die husband s left side. Hlsewhere
MacDougall has made the interesting suggestion th.it
these images have a closer connection to "early Bodhisatvas
and Tirthankara figures and the hieratic medieval
depictions of Hindu deities than more recent Indian
religious images influenced by Mogul and European in'
(1922b: 127).
Volume 9 Number 2
Fall 1 993
119
A PAGE FROM A PHOTOGRAPHER'S SAMPLE ALBUM FOR TOURISTS, IN MuSSOORIE. THE COSTUMES ARE PROVIDED BY THE
PHOTOGRAPHER. I N PHOTO WALLAHS.
Back to Gun Hill where the entertaining H. S.
Chadha expounds a theory ofphotography as a diagnostic
test of internal qualities. He sees photography as a
psychological and scientific method to awaken desires
(here the English subtitles — perhaps unavoidably —
essentialize his argument). When subjects don costu mes
they assume the character of that costume. Chadha
provides the biggest laugh of the film when he recounts
the visit of the Chief Minister of Nagaland who was
dressed in the costume of the bandit Gabbar Singh, the
anti-hero ofRameshSippy'sphenomenallypopular 1975
"currywestern" Shnky ("Flames"),played bytherecently
deceased Amjad Khan. Chadha remembers that after
donning the costume the Chief Minister became very
happy, revealing to the onlookers that, as he says, on one
side there was a Chief Minister and on the other side a
di id."
The second movement is also presaged by reference
to the surrounding terrain, this time the distant haz
out inc ol Mussoorie glimpsed by the tourists through
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telescopes on Gun Hill. In this section various older
stu Jio photographers muse on the technological changes
which have undercut their business. According to
MacDougall, these older practitioners "believe in a
tradition of portraiture designed to achieve a kind o
perfection - to present an eternal image of the sitter,
embellished by retouching and tinting" (1992a: 99).
Linking the first and second "movements," an ekierly
princess displays her album amongst which is a snap of
her father-in-law s palace and a portrait of her by Cecil
Beaton. With feather upheld in her right hand and j w
forced into a severe angle the pose blurs an. simple
distinction between ""portrait" and "effigy."4
In the following section the thoughts of various
stu lio proprietors are occasionally hard to follow as a
result of theMacDougalls apparentpreference for filming
interviews in English. At this point Hindi interviews
would have yielded a much richer and articulate
I ers| ective on the re ation between the image and the
real, and between the image, the real and "art." Similarly
Visual Anthropology Review
more testimony from the photographic subjects
themselves would have been welcomefor they arestrangely
silent throughout the film. What emerges is a privileging
of black and white photography's purchase on Art as
Truth and Beauty. Along the way we are introduced to
some members ofa local photographic club whom we see
photographing icons of the rural picturesque (peasant
with bulls ploughing a field, boy in pond with assorted
water buffaloes). These essentialist motifs put me in
mind of an image in a collection ofphotographs made by
my own grandfather, a conscript in the British Army in
India, during the second world war. Amidst the depictions
of street-traders, ascetics, army motor-bikes and snakecharmers was an image of such a ploughman silhouetted
against the sinking sun. On the reverse, in a spidery blue
trace and next to a stamp which said "De Silva's Studio,
Jhansi and Lucknow" were the words "this picture is
India." But perhaps the affinity is spurious, and the
contemporary image lies closer to Peter H. Emerson's
heroicization of 1880s East Anglian agriculturalists5
than the 1940s colonial vision of an authentic village
India. Photo Wallahs provokes such digressions.
MacDougall cuts from images of insects on marigolds to
a hand-tinted black and white studio-shot image of a
yellow daisy specked with water drops. As the rest of the
photographic club relax at a roadside chai stall, one
member scrutinizes a pile o£mo\ithrW2£znngjelebi sweets
through his zoom lens. He gets close, cutting out the rest
of reality whose superfluity and excess he had earlier
declaimed, got in the way of true beauty.
The third "movement" pivots on Ruskin Bond's
reading of parts of a short story concerned with a
mysterious pair ofhands in a photograph ofthe narrator's
grandmother. Here, as MacDougall puts it, "using
words about pictures, rather than pictures themselves,
seemed an appropriate way of underlining the ideas
about photography that lie at the heart of the story"
(1992a; 98). The hands are a partial trace ofa mysterious
presence lost in the distant past. The photographs of
missing people broadcast on the Indian state television
channel Doordarshan, which follow Bond's story, are
from the immediate past and tell a much more forceful
and painful tale of unhappy families, the loss of small
hands in thronging bus-stations, the wanderings of
forgetful elderly relatives in city crowds. The search
continues, but without the engulfing personal loss in a
sequence of an elderly Anglo-Indian in a wooded
graveyard as she directs her photographer assistant to
record some of the monuments for possible inclusion in
Visual Anthropology Review
a British Association for South Asian Cemeteries booklet.
Another elderly woman shows us her English cousin
Edith feeding the chickens, then a photograph of her as
a child atop the highest peak in Mussoorie, then her
cousins on an elephant near Gorakpur in Uttar Pradesh.
MacDougall asks whether she was one of those children.
She takes offher glasses to squint at the image searching
for evidence, perhaps in the belief that elephants never
forget. The film cuts to a moving elephant, this time in
contemporary Mussoorie. It makes its way through the
narrow streets pursued by numerous small children.
Equally vast creatures make their way accompanied
by intergalactic whizzes and murmurs across the screens
of the local video arcade. The proprietor sits beneath
chromolithographs of Shiva and Sai Baba. A painted
billboard with the film actress Sri Devi clutching a video
camera wobbles into view. It advertises the services of a
studio specializing in weddings and which employs
Gagan Kapoor who falteringly explains that their success
is due to the fact that the present age is the yug (epoch)
of video. Because of this, "these days people don't like
photos much." We see a video cameraman at work,
filming the dancing as the groom's barat makes its way
through the streets of Mussoorie. These increasingly
videoed events are often the result ofearlier photographic
circulations as Raja Dass, a likable young photographer
proceeds to show with reference to his sister Sushila. At
the top of one page of an album, Sushila stands eligible
by a row of terra-cotta pots; below — following the
circulation of the above photograph — she sits next to
her husband. The photographer is articulate about his
contribution to persuading prospective fathers-in-law of
the attractions of the eligible young women he
photographs. MacDougall films a session with the
prospective spouse of a doctor whose photograph had
already been received. During this, the photographer
whips offa cloth from asmall television in the girl's home
and poses her in front of it reassuring her that at least her
husband will not have to buy her a set. "Is this film about
dowry?" she jokingly asks about MacDougall's intentions.
The final section of the film also shows us one of the
older studio proprietors making his plans for a color lab
and defending this concession to materialism to an older
purist (J. S. Bhumbra). Both concede their entrapment
within a machine yug but one advocates running with
the grain while the other fears for the death of Art. The
last sequence of the film shows half a dozen individuals,
couples and groups (and one horse) who responded to a
notice which read "If you wish to be seen on television
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121
INDIAN TOURIST POSING FOR HIS PHOTOGRAPH AS A PATHAN. IN PHOTO WALLAHS.
please stand here. MacDougall has explained that one
intention was to contrast film with still photography,
imposing a fixed frame which created an uncertainty of
expectation among those before the lens: some pose as
if for a still photograph, others feel a desire or obligation
to do something' (1992a: 97). One subject reads a
newspaper as if in a photographicstudio and an adolescent
sings a film song as though in a screen test. Here the
differences between Photo Wallahs and the MacDougalls1
earlier exploration of long takes is clearest as they emulate
some of the qualities of still photography itself, both in
composing images and the possibilities of juxtaposing
them"(1992a:97).
MacDougall called a recent article about this work" Photo
Hierarchicus" and one suspects that this was his preferred
title for the film, one which would be too obscure for a
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wider public not versed in the work of Louis Dumont.
This title obviously alludes to the literal topographic
hierarchy — at various points in the film the camera
traverses the mountainous terrain in which this popular
summer hill resort is set — but also to a social hierarchy
related to Mussoorie s class structure and to a history of
social and technological change (1992a: 98).
MacDougall suggests that the extreme poles of this
hierarchy are represented by Bishmber Dutt s huge lifesize portraits and "tiny, rough prints produced from
paper negatives, destined to be pinned to applications,
licenses and examination papers' (1992b: 111). But it
also suggests, to me at least, that to reflect the ubiquity of
photographic and other images within Hindu India,
anthropologists of India should be concerned as much
with local uses of the camera and a public arena of
representation as they have been with ideas concerning
purity and pollution.
Photo Wallahs suggests productive directions for a
Visual Anthropology Review
truly visual anthropology. The sub-discipline of visual
anthropology has largely evolved with reference to the
visual representations created by the anthropologist's
own society. By a further constriction this has involved
a concentration on documentary film. There have been
some spectacular instances in which the figural has overturned the realm of discourse and in which the
illocutionary has predominated over the propositional.
Recently, Peter Loizos has made a persuasive argument in
favor ofGardner's success in exploring Benares by "turning
his back on words" (1993: 164). However, films such as
Forest of Bliss are essentially in the genre of "sentimental
travels" — subjective introspections which define
themselves with reference to an opposing genre which
"speaks about," to use Trinh T Minh-ha's phrase. Photo
Wallahs, however, suggests a third path, an anthropology
which takes the others figural yearnings as the subject of
the film's own figural representation. Photo Wallahs
provides a model for an ethnographically engaged visual
anthropology which would take as its focus the wider
"interocular"6 domain of a society. This new visual
anthropology might abandon its obsession with certain
limited methodological issues within anthropology and
pursue a wider interest in the frequently crucial role of
visual representation in all societies using the visual to
represent the visual, the figural to reinvent the figural.
Throughout the film an interesting cleavage appears
between elderly Anglo Indians and Raj-relics for whom
photographs serve as enduring traces, and a popular
Indian usage in which the image demarcates an arena of
playful possibility. The former seem to stress the trace
and the shadow while for many contemporary Indians
photography permits an ideality that transcends the
index. One of the few points of cross-over is the images
ofmissingpoorpeoplewhose frozen portraits arebroadcast
by Doordarshan. Here a past physiognomy is invoked
through the photographic trace but only in the interest of
a future reunion. The Raj-relics by contrast are all
looking back, searching through the undergrowth for old
British gravestones, flicking through tattered and frayed
photograph albums, or like Ruskin Bond remembering
photographs from a distant childhood.
In a visual anthropology which looked to a society's
visual culture as a field of figural information, visual
practices such as "portraiture" would be of huge interest
in the elucidation of local understandings of the person
and self (and vice-versa). The MacDougalls have made
a crucial and inspiring start on this project, suggesting
ways in which the visual might become central for certain
Visual Anthropology Review
forms of ethnography. However, some of the most
memorable passages in Photo Wallahs which address this
question are potentially confusing. Let us briefly consider
H. S. Chadha's comments discussed earlier. David
MacDougall suggested in response to a question after a
recent screening that this photographer believes that the
costumes "bring out the true self from the social self
(1992a: 99). Actually I think he does something rather
different, which MacDougall described earlier on the
same occasion as " revealing the person in a further aspect"
(1992a: 97). H. S. Chadha's comments suggest a cyclical
and expansionary relation between the interior and exterior
and are perfectly compatible with a "monist"
understanding of the South Asian person. Dressing as
Gabbar Singh does not awaken some fundamentally true
and p re-existing feature ofa selfwhich should be p rivileged
because of its depth and narrative priority (see Bhabha
1987: 7). Rather, dressing as Gabbar Singh modifies
"bio-moral substance" in the same manner that consuming
a particular type of food might. Thus the costume is not
simply a neutral conduit through which the internal
erupts, but consists of exterior signs which actively
constitute the "interior." Chadha is amusingly articulate
about this aspect:
Let's say someone has a small beard. Put a turban on
him and he feels he's a Sikh. Give him a Pathan
costume and a stick [...] and he speaks differently.
MacDougall has made many interesting observations
about the form of R. S. Sharma's portrait work (1992b:
127) and his written observations extend and make much
senseofthepracticesweseeon thescreen in Photo Wallahs.
MacDougall has also written about J. S. Bhumbra, the
elderly Sikh defender ofArt whom we see near the end of
the film. Apparently he "treated his subjects like actors
on a stage in his small studio... he was after a certain
emotional look to the face, which did not necessarily have
anything to do with the personality of the sitter" (1992b:
117). This comment, perhaps more than anything in the
film, highlights a crucial characteristic of popular Indian
portraiture and the constitution of the subject which
presents itself for photographic representation.
MacDougall's statement presupposes an understanding
(on the part of the reader) of a contrasting "western"
portraiture practice which seeks the external visibility of
"personality" (see Brilliant 1991: 23). MacDougall also
read H. S. Chadha's comments as endowing photography
as practiced on Gun Hill with a similar potency.
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123
Bhumbra's practice, however, strikes me as revealing
more about the expectations of many Indian photostudio clients. Similarly Gandhi's perplexity quoted at
the beginning ofthis review suggests more affinities to me
with popular Indian uncertainty about the face and the
body than does H. S. Chadha's diagnostic transparency.
My own experience in a medium-sized industrial township
in central India certainly suggests the limitations which
local photographic practice encounters in bringing forth
a "true self or a "personality." In central India, studio
clients make a clear distinction between a set of physical
characteristics and dispositions which photography can
capture and an internal moral constitution which is
essentially invisible and manifest only through action,
through past histories and future eventualities. I
understand a potent claim of western portraiture to rest
on the collapsing of these two fields into an equally
rep resentable feature usually described by terms such as
"personality" or "true self." In central India most
"portraiture" has this theatrical and stagy quality and,
though the only props available in the studios I know are
dark glasses, camera angles and lighting are used to
produce formulaic "poses" whose purpose is chiefly to
flatter the consumer and to display his/ her external body
rather than an internal "personality."
In general, the MacDougalls do a splendid job in
positioning different photographies in a wider
"interocular" field — the film touches on video games,
and fleetingly on popular Bombay film (one of the
customers on Gun Hill professes that he can only do a
"filmi" dance, and an advertisement for a video studio
shows the actress Sri Devi clutching a camcorder). We
are also shown the photographs of missing people
broadcast on Doordarshan. Some of the references lie—
perhaps necessarily—latent within the text. Most of H.
S. Chadha's comments for instance are concerned with
allusions to the character Gabbar Singh from Sholay. It
was the dacoit Gabbar Singh with which the Chief
Minister — and a great many other people — so readily
identified. A recently published study by Dissanayake
and Sahai based on several hundred interviews revealed
that it was Gabbar Singh, "the archvillain of the film,
given to mindless violence, [who] emerges as the most
popular character" (1992:59). They attribute this to the
triumph of spectacle over narrative.
MacDougall has recorded that he was unable to use
footage of a Hindi feature, Police Public (starring Raj
Kumar and Naseeruddin Shah) being shot in Mussoorie
in 1989 (1992a: 98; 1992b: 128) and no doubt there
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were excellent reasons for not using that particular material.
More generally, however, creative use might have been
made of sequences from numerous other earlier films
which could have "thickened" the "interocularity."
Excerpts specifically relating to "disguise" and the
properties of the photograph as an object might have
been used to add further resonances.
In Hindifilms,disguises are always successful. Usually
accomplished by remarkably convincing latex masks
worn by the villain, there are no clues of mannerism,
voice, thought and action which serve to reveal the
deception. An outstanding example would be the
Manmohan DesaifilmAf/WstarringAmitabh Bachchan
(this was re-released in 1991 to cash in on the success of
the latest Amitabh blockbuster Hum). At one point in
the film both Amitabh — the hero of the title—and his
father are convinced by each other's doubles staged by
their imperialist enemies and, thus goaded, engaged in a
gladiatorial father-son duel. When Amitabh goes to
rescue his father, chained to a grindstone in a British
concentration camp, it is only his perspicacious horse —
endowed with extra-natural insight — who senses the
deception. There is another good sequence in ManL
Amitabh stands behind a mirror after drinking wedding
bhang. His imperialist pursuer enters and the mirror falls
down leaving Amitabh completely visible. Amitabh then
echoes (mirrors) the movements of the other as he looks
at ('himself in?) the 'mirror.' In the central Indian
cinema hall I know best this earned a huge and voluble
audience response.
To further thicken the "interocular" field, the
MacDougalls might also have intercut scenes from Hindi
films where photographs are often endowed with a
particular potency and significance. A classic example
would be Raj Kapoor's 1951 Awara in which aphotograph
of the heroine Rita (Nargis) plays a strategically important
role.7 More recently the Ramsay Brother's low budget
BandhDarwaza and Indra Kumar's Beta sprint to mind.
In the former the evil female figure uses photos of her
unrequiting object of desire in her destructive black
magic and in Beta, a photograph of the ravishing heroine
Madhuri Dixit murmurs in reciprocating ecstasy when
rubbed by the hero Anil Kapoor!
I first saw the MacDougalls' excellent film at a public
screening. I subsequently found there were benefits to be
had from watching the film on video with pause, reverse,
and fast forward options. These turn the film into a
photograph album that permits the "possibility of a
lingering look" (Metz 1990: 155) occurring within a
Visual Anthropology Review
"free rewriting time" (Wollen cited by Metz, ibid). This
in turn suggests my chief reservation about the film: in its
current state it might have worked better as a book, as a
literal kind of album complete with extensive captions.
Certainly some ofthe interviews have the intense intimacy
and immediacy of the MacDougalls' earlier work, but
much of what is said would work better as printed
translations from Hindi next to the images. Similarly, the
peculiar ability of moving film to depict the "interocular"
field of Hindi film and advertising are perhaps not fully
exploited in this nevertheless admirable and pioneering
study of still photography. However, the MacDougalls
have certainly constructed a film which "develop[s]
complex networks of connections and relationships,"
one which is a wonderful "resource for a range of
observations, ideas and possibilities" (MacDougall 1992a:
100), and for this I give thanks.
NOTES
1. Naroji represented Finsbury in the House Commons
as the first Indian Member of Parliament and was also
President of the Indian National Congress.
2. Dutt is thanked in the acknowledgements at the
close of the film. Other individuals are not identified in
the film but are recognizable through MacDougall's
comments in "Photo Hierarchicus" (1992b).
3. I thank Emma Tarlo for pointing this out.
4. This was a distinction made by the art historian
Ananda Coomaraswamy (1977: 89). Coomaraswamy's
distinction depends on various Orientalist fallacies but is
nevertheless full of insight. "Portraiture in the accepted
sense is history," he argued. "It has been well said that
'portraiture belongs to civilizations that fear death.
Individual likeness is not wanted where it suffices for the
type to continue'" (Coomaraswamy 1977: 89, citing
Stella Kramrisch, Indian Sculpture, Calcutta, 1933: 134).
By contrast in an "effigy," "the man is represented not as
he was seen on earth, but as he was in himself, and is now
transubstantiated" (ibid). Beaton's portrait alerts us to
the need to avoid simple oppositions between an "Indian"
and a "western" practice, a problem which MacDougall
is very sensitive to (1992a: 98).
5. See, for instance, "A StiffPull" reproduced in Melon
(1987:85).
6. This phrase is taken from Appadurai and Breckenridge
(1992:52). They note that "objects in India seem to flow
constantly through the membranes that separate
commerce, pageantry and display" (1992: 39), and that
Visual Anthropology Review
"each site or setting for the disciplining of the public gaze
is to some degree affected by viewers' experiences of the
other sites" (1992: 52).
7. Cf. Gayatri Chatterjee's recent outstanding study of
the film (1992: 119-125).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Appadurai, Arjun,
1988 "How to MakeaNational Cuisine," Comparative
Studies in Society and History, 30: 3-24.
Appadurai, Arjun & Breckenridge, Carol A.
1992 "Museums are Good to Think: Heritage on
View in India," in Ivan Karp et. al. (eds.) Museums
and Communities: the Politics of Public Culture.
Washington: Smithsonian Institution.
Bhabha, Homi
1987 "Interrogating Identity," in H. Bhabha (ed.)
Identity. London: Institute of Contemporary Arts.
Brilliant, Richard
1991 Portraiture. London: Reaktion Books.
Chatterjee, Gayatri
1992 Awara. New Delhi: Wiley Eastern.
Coomaraswamy, Ananda,
1977 "The Part of Art in Indian Life," in R. Lipsey
(ed.) Coomaraswamy Selected Papers, Vol. 1.
Princeton: Princeton University Press. [1st published
1937].
Dissanayake, Wimal & Sahai, Malti
1992 Sholay.A Cultural Reading. New Delhi: Wiley
Eastern.
Gandhi, Mahatma
1991 An Autobiography
MacDougall, David
1992a "'Photo Wallahs:' An Encounter With
Photography," VisualAnthropology Review 8(2):96100.
1992b "Photo Hierarchicus: Signs and Mirrors in
Indian Photography," Visual Anthropology 5:103129.
Melon, Marc
1987 "Beyond Reality: Art Photography," in JeanClaude Lemagny and Andre Rouille (eds.) A History
of Photography: Social and Cultural Perspectives,
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Metz, Christian
1990 Photography and Fetish, in Carol Squiers (ed.)
The Critical Image: Essays on Contemporary
Photography. Seattle: Bay Press, pp. 155-164.
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