Forgotten Fragments: On the Artistic use of Photographs and Images in Historical Fiction
Throughout Dash Fire Diaries, I use photographs to bring history to life. But the “life” given to this history is an artificial one of my own making. Photographs impart a sense of authenticity when paired with narrative, but the feeling of authenticity and the truth it evokes is artistic, not literal. This is especially true in terms of portrait photography.
In cases where real, historical figures are personified, their actual photographs are paired with narrative written in their voice using fictional narratives. In other words, actual pictures of real people are used to highlight words they did not write. As if this doesn’t muddy the waters enough, pictures of real — but lesser known — soldiers, doctors and nurses associated with WWI are used to highlight the fictional narratives by characters who also never existed beyond the confines of my imagination.
In displaying these photographs, my intension is not to conflate literal truth with fiction or to obfuscate it, but to erase the hard lines separating truth from fiction, blurring it in much the same way that a visual artist uses an airbrush to create soft edges. Why work so hard to blur these lines? Too often, in an attempt to make order of chaos, our brains default to binary categories. Either something is this or it’s that.
But the paradox of history is that the same event can simultaneously take on multiple meanings at the same time.
Which interpretation is “correct” depends on the perspective of the witness. Interspersing photographs from WWI with artwork depicting unicorn mythology and fictional narratives, my intent is to add depth, textural complexity, and present multiple perspectives. I have here attempted to rend the “whole cloth” approach to history, and replace it with a collage-like patchwork of images and text designed to have an emotional, visceral effect on the reader. This loose collection of fragments and slivers is the closest thing I can offer by way of entre and invitation into the workings of my creative process.
The presentation of images is not random, though it may sometimes appear so. When considering a photograph for use in Dash Fire Diaries, I take several important considerations into account. First, as a practical matter of protecting myself from liability I use only public domain and royalty-free images. Secondly, I consider the degree of congruence between the image and the text. The relationship between the photograph and the text may be immediately obvious or it may be more obtuse, especially when the written material is more fanciful.
I will never find images of Bigfeet (Saysquacks) training with WWI-era drill instructors and I do not possess the means to create such an image, so instead I choose the next best thing; an image of British soldiers in a line in the prone position, training on Lewis guns. At other times, the marriage of text and image is even more abstract and symbolic (i.e. the use of propaganda posters).
In addition to artistic and legal realities, ethical considerations also come into play with my selection of photographs. The era I’m working with is one in which its subjects are long since deceased, so I am (thankfully) not running the risk of drawing their ire or censure. Never the less, a universal human cultural trait is that we treat our dead with dignity — with the understanding that how this is interpreted varies greatly between cultures. Ergo, I apply my own set of standards to maintain the dignity of the people featured in the photos I use.
While much of my work is historical satire, I never deploy photos in a manner that mocks or defames their subjects. Most importantly, in terms of representation, I do not conflate their identities with that of my fictional characters. While I may feature a photograph of a young British officer who could have been Lieutenant Branwell Browntrout, I do not purport to represent the person in the photograph as Lieutenant Browntrout. In the end the people in the pictures remain for the reader what they are to me, anonymous, ordinary people who none the less took extraordinary action at times under extreme duress. Though these people remain nameless to me, they were not nameless to their friends, families and comrades. And though they are nameless to me, I aim to retain some essence of their personhood, even if I cannot paint a picture of their life that does it justice.
Personhood is a difficult and unwieldy concept to tackle but at its heart are those qualities that define us as individual human beings. In wartime one of those qualities is suffering. While I respect the thoughtful choices of other writers and artists, I choose to honor the personhood of these real human beings by not making artistic use of human suffering. This is evident mostly by absence: I do not feature photographs of soldiers or civilians who appear to be dead, dying or in great physical or emotional distress. When I do feature wounded soldiers, I do so where it is impossible to discern their fate, where their potential survival is plausible, or where they appear to be recovering. Death, dying and pain are some of the most personal experiences we all share in common. To be captured by the lens in the act of suffering is to be rendered vulnerable.
While it may be impossible — and naïve — to think we can restore the privacy of individuals who have already been captured by the camera and made public, we can also avoid compounding and amplifying their vulnerability. With the placement of every picture I try to imagine — if only briefly — what the subject of the photograph or their families might feel about how I’m using their picture. I need to be able to justify each image and defend its use. Does the story I’m telling require this picture? Is it more potent and effective with the addition of this image, or is it mere garnishment? If the picture adds meaning to the story and does not demean the person in the process, then I can justify its necessity. In the end, however, I am responsible only to myself and those standards of literary merit and ethics that I choose to apply.
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Care to read a hilarious account of Theodore Roosevelt hunting Bigfoot? Find it here: https://www.amazon.com/Squabble-Titans-Recollections-Roosevelt-Rainforest/dp/B097X4R4LN
