Jodie Austin

By day I'm a professor of English and literature. By night I'm still a professor because the emails and the papers don't stop coming in until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes I manage to eke out some time for myself to do photography. As a Hapa (half Asian) who was born in San Francisco and subsequently transplanted to Humboldt County, I've found limited success so far in defining myself. Fortunately San Jose, and especially Japantown, is one big mixed party. There's terrible history here, but also some very interesting history. "Interesting" is a noncommittal word, I know— it's what people say about their roommate's cooking to be polite. But I really do mean "interesting" in all senses! At any rate, taking pictures has allowed me to be more observant as I get to know this place a bit at a time. What inspires me? My students, which means I've really bought into the cult of education. I'm a closet photographer. I don't even want to call myself an artist because there are smarter and more talented people out there doing more with less.

What does "liberation" mean to you?

I would hope that liberation feels like dignity, or maybe just the right to pause and not be constantly vigilant against threats of oppression. Liberty should probably be distinguished from "freedom," which is an understandably loaded word right now. It's especially worth pondering this distinction while people are putting their lives on the line to challenge centuries of racism and xenophobia in the U.S.— all while a pandemic rages. "Liberation" is also a pretty old word in English— the Oxford English Dictionary notes its earliest recorded usage in the 14th c. Notably, it refers to "freedom from bondage" even then. So: I don't really know what liberation looks or sounds like but I do know that there are people in need of it right now. Types of 21st century imprisonment/control range from the physical (cages, institutions) to the developmental (food deserts, redlining, segregation) to the sociological (care deprivation, classlighting), just to name a few. Those who feel these pressures most acutely, or who have in the past, would be in a better position to answer to this question. It would also be a great exercise to consider how "liberation" translates to/from other languages besides English— this is but one definition!

Is your creative practice a practice of liberation?

I would be hesitant to say that my creativity is a practice of liberation. I'm also hesitant to even call it a process of creation! As old-fashioned as it sounds, I consider myself more of a documentarian. I'm recording, capturing, and collecting rather than consciously producing. Sometimes I get lucky and I'm there when something really interesting is happening.

How can art be a tool in the revolution?

A tool? That sounds pretty surgical! Is art supposed to be a tool?

Share a little bit about your creative process!

Even though I sometimes find people quite scary to talk to I'm kind of compulsively curious and will often engage with people even when it's easier for me to be antisocial. Although I enjoy taking nature photos my shots are nothing special; it's really people that keep me coming back. For this reason I've taken quite a few photos of protests over the years. I've learned a lot through trial and error, especially regarding the need to respect privacy/distance. One time I reflexively took what I thought was a powerful shot of a family during a march who looked on the verge of tears. Fortunately I caught myself and gestured to the family to ask whether it was OK; when the father shook his head I immediately deleted them in front of him. It was a humbling lesson. Although a lot of photographers might think otherwise I believe it's important to recognize and sometimes protect the vulnerability of those in the frame. Even the camera can be a form of oppression if wielded irresponsibly; there's a long and painful history of photography being used as a means of exploitation against people of color in the U.S. especially. Even the person being photographed is referred to as a "subject"— a word that has some very telling connotations. With facial recognition and mass surveillance becoming more ubiquitous, photographers have an obligation to stay informed. I'm honestly still educating myself on how to stay mindful of these issues; hopefully I don't stop.

Any other reflections you'd like to share?

Just that I'm honored to be a part of a community of people here in San Jose who continue to care for one another even when things look pretty bleak. I was going through some shots I took at a pre-Covid Martha Street Art Night— it was surreal to see everyone so physically close to one another! I don't think I met a single pretentious person there; everyone was truly warm and complimentary while I scampered around taking pictures. To see that the same people are keeping the community going through a virtual forum cheers me up— and I'm a super grumpy person sometimes so that's saying a lot.

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