Point of Contact Gallery Staff Sara Felice Managing Associate Director Natalie McGrath Assistant Director Rainer Wehner Preparator Weisi Liu Financial and Administrative Specialist Anthony White Gallery Assistant Tere Paniagua Executive Director of Cultural Engagement
Tula Goenka, Project Director Cindy Bell, Photographer Sara Felice, Curator
This exhibition is made possible thanks to the generous support of The College of Arts and Sciences, The Syracuse University Humanities Center, Light Work, The Coalition of Museums and Art Centers at Syracuse University and the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications
Look Now: Facing Breast Cancer breaks down the barriers between a survivor’s public persona and their private struggles with the disease. In 2010, Tula Goenka, herself a breast cancer survivor, was the first of three subjects to be photographed for a prototype of the project. She has relaunched Look Now as a photography exhibition and multimedia installation with a new collaborative team. Cindy Bell, also a breast cancer survivor, is the project photographer. In 2018-19, Look Now focuses on the personal stories of survivors from Central New York. Interactive text, graphics, mirrors, and an experimental silent film enhance the exhibition’s visual core, which presents 44 participants—25 with clothed photographic portraits and images of bare chests, and 19 who have chosen to remain anonymous except for their bare chest close-ups. The Look Now project will soon include a new media site featuring an interactive documentary, images of survivors, resources for support, and oral histories of project participants. Also planned is a spoken-word performance titled Tit Bits, which will dramatize the stories of many touched by breast cancer—patient, survivor, family member, medical practitioner, and advocate. Look Now is part of Syracuse University’s Syracuse Symposium series, whose theme in 2018-19 is Stories, an exploration of how we tell them and what effects whose stories we hear.
My outlook on life has totally changed after going through cancer treatment, and I just take one day at a time. My motto has become, “Life is good, keep smiling.” — Anju The hardest thing for me was telling my daughter that I had breast cancer because my mother, her grandmother, died of it. — Ann I am angry at cancer for stealing my children’s innocence. I’m angry at cancer for taking the lives of my friends. I’m angry at cancer for altering my life when I didn’t ask it to. I’m wondering when the rest of the world is also gonna be angry because it’s not okay to sit back and accept cancer. — AnnMarie The hardest time for me was when I finished my last chemotherapy appointment. I was leaving the cocoon of my medical team and had to go back to my normal life, but I didn’t know what normal life was anymore. — Bob The first time I saw my daughter grow stronger was when she came with me to chemo. She told me afterwards that she wants to be an oncologist when she grows up, so that no other little girl has to go through this with her mother. — Colleen When a new person comes to our support group, I am the person who flashes them. I just grab my shirt and lift it up so that they can see what they might look like. I don’t care who’s there! — Deirdre I wasn’t comfortable with myself and my body until I gave up wearing the prosthetic. I’ve been living flat for six years, and I feel confident and courageous. I feel fantastic. — Donna I was diagnosed in 1979 in Amsterdam and the Dutch only referred to it as “K.” I didn’t know anyone who had cancer nor the full implications of my condition. My surgery lasted 11 hours, and I was in a coma for one week. — Gloria The most traumatic part of the whole process was having to tell my sons, who were eight and nine years old. When my boys turned 18, they both designed their own tattoos and had them put in exactly where my scars are. — Jeanine Yes, I’ve had cancer, but I’m also a woman accomplished in work, living, and love. There are people who go through this every day. It’s a struggle and scary as hell, but don’t let it overtake your life. — Kathy I want to be able to help other women who are going through what I went through, and help them understand the process. We also talk about family members and how they are dealing with it because it’s not just you. Everyone around you is also affected. —Katrina After the first treatment and until it came back six years later, there was always that cancer voice in my head— what if? When they took the bandages off after my double mastectomy, I looked down to be sure that my breasts were gone, and happy tears just poured down my face. I knew I was finally free. — Linda I’m more aware of living. I’m more passionate, more compassionate. I enjoy the smaller things of life now. I have learned that my breasts did not define me at all. — Lisa
Cancer was a big turning point in my life because I got very involved with helping others, especially young women who were recently diagnosed. I was hired by the Cancer Society to run a program for people with different kinds of cancer. It gave me a career. — Lois I am a big advocate of genetic testing. My mother and three sisters passed away from breast cancer in their 40s. Although I am not BRCA1 positive, I have a gene mutation that makes me susceptible to pancreatic cancer. I feel lucky that we know about it, and keep an eye on it. — Mary Lou The depressive feelings after you are diagnosed are tremendous and vary from one person to another. They are a normal reaction to the emotional and psychological trauma you are undergoing. Please get some help. — Meera I didn’t know the difference between a lumpectomy and a mastectomy or what to expect from reconstruction and implants. It’s definitely helpful to reach out to a support group so you’re not going into the unknown. — Patricia I was diagnosed at the halfway point in my life. It was time to purge the poisons, adapt a new outlook, and move forward. I have become more serious about my bucket list, and I feel like I’m hitting my power years now. — Patti The beauty of being a previvor is being able to make your own decision on your own terms. Although I may have other illnesses in my life, I was able to say no to breast cancer. — Rachel I live on Oneida Lake and as I was watching people crossing the finish line, I decided to train for it. People thought it was impossible because I was turning 60 soon. But I thought, “You know what? I conquered cancer. I can do this.” Now, I am a four-time Iron Girl! — Randi When you’re in a near-death situation, you re-think a lot of things. I am an atheist, and I thought a lot about what I believed in and didn’t believe in. — Richard Cancer is not one-size-fits-all. Rather than letting it shape us, we need to find a way to shape it so that we can negotiate it in the best way we can. — Sally It’s okay to have Stage IV. We can continue to live our lives. Each day, we don’t have to be worried about dying but about what that day holds. My life is with my kids. My life is not being a breast cancer patient. — Shari I’m healthy and whole, for the most part, and I know people who didn’t make it through. You have to be thankful for the days that you’ve got. — Tracy Femininity is not about being delicate or having breasts or wearing high heels. Being feminine is an energy. As soon as I take my shirt off and see myself in the mirror, I am a breast cancer survivor. But I am still feminine. I am still whole. — Tula
An Interview with Cindy Bell By Nancy Keefe Rhodes Cindy Bell has more than twenty years’ experience as a photographer. In 1992, she established her 5,000-square-feet Focus Studio, Inc., in the heart of Syracuse’s Northside Little Italy neighborhood and now divides her photography practice between Central New York and Portland, Maine. Besides portraiture, she produces brochures, catalogs, websites, bill boards, and local and national advertising, and has received several ADDY awards from the American Advertising Federation, the field’s major US trade association. A breast cancer survivor herself, she has authored a photobook, Common Thread, and been active locally in initiatives such as the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Bell studied photography at Daytona State College (1983) and graduated from Cicero-North Syracuse High School. We talked in early September. Here is part of our conversation: Nancy Keefe Rhodes (NKR): Tell me, why this project for you? Cindy Bell (CB): Because I had breast cancer, I have a deep connection with the project and the subjects. I’ve done other breast cancer projects but, other than the Race for the Cure, not in six or seven years. I had done a book of images of survivors, Common Thread. Despite vastly different experiences, the one common denominator we all have was getting that diagnosis. You’re scared. The future is so uncertain. The book was therapy for me because I didn’t want to sit back and say, “Okay, what am I supposed to do—wait around for it to come back?” To this day, people tell me, “I have your book on my night stand.” Especially newly diagnosed people. I worked on some calendars to raise money for women in treatment who had a hard time paying their bills. Over the last few years, I kind of walked away from breast cancer and got busy with life. Then Tula approached me and I agreed. It’s been a little bit of a crazy ride—not just the tight schedule, but the feelings came back full force. Not in a negative way, but each person reminds me how precious life is. I’ve met so many amazing, strong, determined people through this entire process. NKR: There’s a lot of people in this project and a fairly compressed time frame. CB: Yes! Before I photograph people, I always talk to them and I did the same thing here. I listen to their stories, try to come up with an image that fits their experience and personality. I loved that part. And each bare chest tells a different story. Some stories were difficult to listen to but I needed to hear them to capture the essence of each person’s battle wounds. NKR: Tula uses a similar phrase—battle scars. This really is a battle. CB: It’s a battle because sometimes the cancer comes back. The people I photographed who had recurrences didn’t stop fighting. They forged ahead and, most importantly, they are living. They said, “It’s okay, I’m good. I’m whole.” And that’s what I saw—a whole woman—whether they had their breasts or not, because it’s from the inside, not your physical appearance. NKR: You are returning to this as an artist and photographer too. Are your images or your approach different?
CB: As time has passed, that has changed. Now I wanted to look at each person’s soul. I approached each person with different lighting, for example. It’s creating the look, the style, the photo, their expression. Usually when the best image popped up on my computer, I knew at once, “That’s it. We don’t need to go any further.” I felt that way for most of the images. I have goosebumps thinking about it. I probably have less control, but there’s a dichotomy. I have more technical control now, but the experience of talking with them, capturing them, letting them be free, was organic. Being in front of a camera was not a normal experience for any of them. I think they were apprehensive but once we made that connection, they just went with it. We collaborated—that’s what art should be. NKR: Matisse said a portrait is a “feud” between what the artist wants to do and representing who the person is, but collaboration is different. CB: It’s the relationship between the photographer and the person. That connection was really important, even with other people around. I got emails from people who said, “Thank you so much. That was so much fun.” We had a beautiful experience around a difficult subject. I asked people to expose themselves both physically and emotionally. They had to trust me for that. NKR: You had to trust them too. CB: Yes, that’s true. NKR: How was it to collaborate with Tula and with Sara and Tere at Point of Contact? CB: It was beautiful and, honestly, difficult at times! Tula and I are both very strong-willed, very passionate about this project. I think the passion kept us on the same page. Working together was like a dance, while also respecting each other and each other’s point of view. NKR: Tula had to make some changes from her original idea. She said, “I’m very much a documentarian. I had to give up some things and be willing to see things in a different way to do this.” She said this really was a gift for her, not a loss. Did you feel the same? CB: I did. Everything I’ve done with breast cancer was about showing people as whole and the positive side— but always about heart. This project pushed me, especially because I exposed people physically. I didn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable or afraid. My job was to document something that exists in a way that respects each person. That was intimidating. Photographing someone’s chest wasn’t a problem. But what if I offend somebody, or they feel bad when they see this image, or I don’t capture their essence the right way? I felt the first images that Tula had from 2010 were very harsh—not artistic enough. I was passionate about this. We’re doing an art show. We can still tell a story in an art show. It doesn’t have to be clinical or editorial. Art tells stories. That’s where, at one point, we all had some difficulty. I think it helped us all grow. We were doing a show with a concept, a show without any images to start with, in a very short time period. NKR: It’s a much shorter time frame from an exhibition normally would take. CB: Initially it looked like a year and a half project but it turned out to be much more compressed. Sometimes I shot three or four people in a day. I had to adjust each session to allow each person their own identity. I didn’t
want every image to look the same, and I accomplished that. I had to get in a new mindset before every shoot. In the morning, meditate, and a little self-talk, “You can do this.” NKR: I think people have their own ideal of what their portrait should be. Sometimes people grow into liking their images. For this, you and your subjects didn’t have time to settle in. CB: Yes, that was my concern, because I didn’t want to do any re-touching. Some people had more glamorous lighting, some had stronger lighting with lots of detail. But I didn’t want to change anybody’s character. This is not a glamour shoot. Most of them looked at their pictures afterward and liked them, and many asked me for their picture. We are giving each person a print of their portrait. NKR: What are your hopes for the show? CB: Because this is so different from what I’ve done before, two things will go on. I don’t want to offend people. I want people to recognize this is the private side of somebody’s body that they’re exposing. It’s all about being whole. I had my breasts removed and it didn’t change me. It was actually a choice. It took some time to look in the mirror—then I realized this does not define me. I am my soul, not my body. Hopefully they will see that our experiences don’t define us. How we deal with our experiences defines us. NKR: After the dust settles, you discover, “I’m still here.” That discovery comes down the road a little bit? CB: Yes. NKR: Tula reconfigured the exhibition in the spring to add the anonymous chest images. Someone said, “You know, I can’t have this kind of photograph of me in an art gallery. I’ll let you take my chest, not my face.” Does that speak to the process of the dust settling and you realize you’re still here? CB: But they were willing to do that. That anonymous wall might be difficult to look at, but that’s what people go through. And people showed up, despite not wanting to show their face. It’s an honor to be trusted with the truth. Really. There’s a nuance to how this started as one thing and evolved to something else and it needed to. I guess we’ll see after the show what the impact is. NKR: What will you do next as a photographer? CB: I don’t have anything scheduled. I operate from the place that things show up for a reason. I trust that. I think this project came to me because I have a very close friend who is Stage IV and we’re all struggling. Maybe it’s trying to honor her in my own way. Every time my stomach rumbles, it tells me that it’s the truth. That’s my knowing. NKR: Is she in this project? CB: No, but she’s been a strong fighter. Unfortunately, one person we photographed passed away, very suddenly. She’ll still be in the show, just the breast image. We didn’t do her portrait. She was a beautiful girl. Young. NKR: I didn’t know that. I wonder, is it inevitable—that someone in this project would die during the shoot?
CB: Yes. That’s why it’s so tough, because breast cancer really kills people. Just when you think you have it beat, it’s back with a vengeance. That part really is hard to get beyond. NKR: Is it different working with men? There are two, right? CB: No different. I’ve photographed men with breast cancer before, including one of the guys in this exhibition. Typically, a male image is strong with a lot of detail. NKR: What’s the time span since you had breast cancer? CB: It’s fifteen years. I opted for a bi-lateral mastectomy and chemo. It was not in my family. It came out of nowhere. I was shocked. I have three sisters and I am the youngest. Out of anyone in my family, I honestly feel it was best that I got it. I’m a fighter. I knew I could handle it. NKR: Do you think all these people will come to the show? CB: I think so. Some portraits are stronger than others. I’ll probably be the biggest critic there. It’s one thing to have work in print or online, but this show will be on the wall. Anytime you have that, even if you’re not there—it would be easier to expose myself as a breast cancer survivor than as an artist, because I’m a perfectionist. NKR: Well, the best hope for that is a physical exhibition, where you can go see the art in person. An exhibition is a special class of experience, both in its risks and rewards. CB: It’s gone to the printer, so it’s out of my hands. But I trust Light Work to do an amazing job. The portraits will be really big. I think that will help set the tone in the space. I especially like the way I handled the images of the breasts. I want people to get what I’m doing, to see the vision, and hopefully make the subjects proud.
An Interview with Tula Goenka By Nancy Keefe Rhodes Tula Goenka is a filmmaker, author, human rights activist, and professor of Television, Radio & Film in the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University. She holds the Newhouse Endowed Chair of Public Communications for 2016-19. As an editor she has worked with filmmakers such as Spike Lee, James Ivory, and Mira Nair. Her own documentaries include Dancing on Mother Earth (2002), the award-winning PBS feature about singer/songwriter Joanne Shenandoah. Goenka is author of Not Just Bollywood: Indian Directors Speak (2014). She is the founder and co-director of the annual Syracuse University Human Rights Film Festival (SUHRFF). Goenka’s SUBollywood program provides TRF students with a summer immersion experience in Mumbai. She serves on the Chancellor’s Task Force on Sexual and Relationship Violence. Born and raised in India, Goenka remains very involved in the South Asian community in the U.S. and has served on the boards of several international human rights organizations. She is a breast cancer survivor. We talked about Look Now: Facing Breast Cancer in early September. Here is part of our conversation: NKR: Good morning, Tula! So, you’re thinking you want to change the project description? Tula Goenka (TG): Since most of my work is really about human rights, I wanted to address the human rights issue of breast cancer― specifically, access to health care. This relates to who gets diagnosed and treated and survival rates. I went to my friends in the refugee slash New American community and I asked them if they knew any survivors, and they said no. I don’t believe no one has had breast cancer. And I think people from under-served populations are silenced. The women―and two men―in the project have all had better access to healthcare and to benefits. To me, the absence of some communities is striking. NKR: In art, we talk about what’s missing either visually or conceptually as “negative space.” And this year’s Syracuse Symposium particularly aims to explore the difference between mainstream, “integral stories” and stories that are withheld, lost, or can’t be shared. They tie the difference to the effects of social location, identity, and power. So your concern is already right on target. TG: Yes, it’s extremely important! That’s why we’ll use quotes from the portrait participant interviews as wall text in the room with the silent documentary in the gallery. I’ll embed the full interviews on the website next year as an oral history project of breast cancer survivors in Central New York. I’m currently filming a larger, interactive documentary that we’ll complete after this exhibition and that’s where I will address the human rights issues of this disease. NKR: Altogether, the show has 44 participants―25 with a portrait and bare-chest closeup and 19 anonymous bare-chest-only images. So many people answered your invitation! This seems to highlight an imbalance. On one hand there’s a growing acceptance of talking about breast cancer publicly in some parts of the community, but on the other hand, the same community has pockets where people go without diagnosis and feel silenced. TG: Yes, that’s so. This exhibition is really a testament to surviving breast cancer that celebrates the participants,
empowers others who come after them, and showcases resilience. Most participants had had some contact with me personally. I know they’re breast cancer survivors because they reached out to me, but the community may not know. People tend to be private about the disease even though the cause is so public. The project has really come out of personal relationships. I had to persuade several friends. It takes a lot of courage to participate so boldly. NKR: How else did you recruit participants? TG: I also did a lot of publicity because I wanted to reach as many people as possible―Bridge Street me had me on twice, and Spectrum News did a story. I met people when I tabled at Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in 2017 and 2018, and the Shades of Inspiration Walk in 2018. All this gives the project legitimacy. When I went through breast cancer in 2006, there wasn’t such a big online community. Facebook existed, but not like today. Syracuse had very few support groups. Things have changed a lot! There are many more resources. Over the last two years, I’ve met incredible people and organizations, whether it’s the Pink Therapy Support Group at Crouse Hospital, or Shades of Inspiration on the city’s Southside that works mainly with African-American and Latina women. NKR: Has the project itself evolved since you started it? TG: I’m primarily a documentary filmmaker. My sensibilities are definitely non-fiction and reality-based. At the beginning, I wanted all the photographs to be the same size, created in the same way. As a visual storyteller, I know that every image carries subtext and I didn’t want viewers asking, “Why is this one larger? Why is this one in color? Why is this one black-and-white?” I had to give all that up. Now, when you walk into the gallery, it’s very clearly an art exhibition. No two photographs are the same. The project photographer, Cindy Bell, has worked very hard and done an excellent job of capturing each person’s personality and showcasing the image itself, which is what good portraiture is. We had unexpected delays and we worked all summer. NKR: Matisse said that all portraiture is a “feud” between what the artist wants and the person they are representing. TG: That’s right, I had that feud without knowing it. I had to let go of my original concept. I’d always imagined it a certain way. But it’s better and more vibrant now. As a filmmaker, you have to collaborate. It’s always about teamwork and a team vision. I think I’ve honored that principle. The ideas have come from everyone involved. For instance, Cindy said to me very early on that we needed someone for hair and makeup. I was like, “In journalism, we don’t do that.” But it was the right decision―when people came in, we just cocooned them in love and encouragement. Those studio lights are very harsh. Most of them have never had any makeup done professionally, but they trusted us. NKR: How did you find Cindy Bell? TG: In 2010, I created a proof-of-concept with Hannah Frieser from Light Work and photographer Angelika Rinnhofer. Sadly, both of them have moved away. Since the project was much larger, I needed someone here. I also definitely wanted a woman. In fact, our entire creative team is female! A common friend, Mark Fohs, introduced Cindy and me. Thankfully she agreed right away. Cindy is also a breast cancer survivor―we’ve walked the same path as all our participants. She has a huge studio on the Northside that we’ve been able to
use well. She has worked on many different projects about breast cancer survivors, and is very involved in the community, and it turned out she’d already worked with some of the people in our show. NKR: How did you work out the current aesthetic with her? TG: The photographic choices are Cindy’s. My vision had always been the public persona juxtaposed with the private battle scars―a clothed portrait next to a close-up of the bare chest. But I’m a professor and I didn’t want to be standing in front of my students with them having seen my naked image. I never intended to create a nude photo show. Somehow, the bare chest close-up next to the clothed portrait disembodies it. Cindy and I did a test photo shoot in February―my clothed portrait next to one without clothes. Looking at them side by side, I wondered, “Why have the portrait with clothes on next to a nude portrait? It’s redundant.” NKR: Usually the negative criticism of photos of women’s body parts without their faces is that such images objectify women. You’re flipping that, saying this provides protection. TG: Yes, protection and a certain sense of privacy. Then I spoke to some of the women who had agreed to participate and none of us were comfortable with the nude portrait. I am relieved that we stayed with the original concept of a clothed portrait and a close-up of the bare chest. I also spoke with a friend who told me she wanted to participate but because of her job she couldn’t have her name and picture in an art gallery. That paved the way for another component—the anonymous wall. We have 19 participants who came in and had only their bare chest photographed. NKR: Let’s go back a little bit. Other projects about women’s bodies that you’ve done have led to this. You’ve been advisor to the annual Vagina Monologues production at SU for years. TG: Eve Ensler’s Vagina Monologues actually has a lot to do with Look Now! I am the faculty advisor for SASSE [Students Advocating Sexual Safety and Empowerment] and their performances did inspire my idea for the spoken-word component. Can I tell you how I came up with the Look Now idea? I walked into the Newhouse School one day in October 2009 and there was a big poster in the lobby announcing that Christie Hefner, the publisher of Playboy, was coming. Several faculty and students kept asking me, “Are you going to protest?” I said, “I am not. If you want to protest it, you should.” NKR: Why do you think people asked you? TG: I have always been a human rights activist—especially women’s rights—and they wanted me to lead the protest. Of course I don’t support objectifying women, but I believe in the freedom of speech, especially on a college campus. But this got me thinking, “Will Playboy ever put someone who has had breast cancer surgery on their centerfold? And what does that do to a woman’s sense of femininity, to her feeling sexy?” I am pretty sure Playboy would not do that. The centerfold has women with silicone implants like me. But they have them for a different reason. NKR: Then Sara suggested using the catalog centerfold for the images of the bare chest close-ups. TG: Yes! None of us were thinking about Playboy when we discussed the catalog design, but she hit on what this is all about culturally. The show is about—what does breast cancer look like and how does it affect the
people who have gone through it? It’s perfect. As creative people, we so often come up with ideas first as design elements, then we realize they have another meaning. NKR: The full Look Now project has many different elements―still images, moving images, eventually a spoken word performance piece, a website, and perhaps a book. That range of media seems extremely important. That’s also part of the Syracuse Symposium framework―the value of different storytelling genres. TG: I agree it’s important. I had already thought about all these things back in 2010, but making a documentary is the most natural thing for me, and I am learning about creating the other elements as I do it. It’s an exciting challenge. I am creating a spoken-word performance piece that comes out of the tradition of documentary theater. I still need to figure out the timeline. I had envisioned next fall and we’re committed to making it happen. I’m going to call it Tit Bits because “tits” is one of the seven words forbidden on broadcast television. Eve Ensler wrote an entire piece in The Vagina Monologues about reclaiming another forbidden word―“cunt.” I want to reclaim “tits.” NKR: Let’s talk a bit about your own diagnosis and the process that resulted in Look Now. TG: I’ve worked in domestic violence and sexual and relationship violence for nearly 30 years. I understand the journey from being a victim to becoming a survivor to becoming an advocate. It takes time and a tremendous amount of healing and hard work. Please don’t get me wrong―sexual abuse or sexual assault aren’t the same as breast cancer. But people go through a similar process. You are a patient during diagnosis and treatment, and it’s really devastating. After a while you start to cautiously think of yourself as a survivor. Then it takes more time to become an advocate. Most of our participants are a few years out from their initial diagnosis. That’s why it’s called Look Now: Facing Breast Cancer. We’re saying, “Now you can look at me. I went through it. I am still here.” When you’re first diagnosed, your first questions to the doctor are, “What’s my treatment? What do I need to do? How long will I live?” The next question is, “What am I going to look like?” There are very few resources out there about surgical options. Doctors tend to push women into having reconstruction because not having a breast is seen as a disability or not being a whole woman. We are showing the different options, and putting a face on it―making it more personal. NKR: Was there a turning point for you? TG: One moment really inspired me. When I was in the hospital after my double mastectomy, I met this amazing woman, Linda Friedman, through a friend. She walked into my room and lifted up her shirt and said, “Look at me and feel me.” I was heavily sedated, but I understood her kindness and compassion and she really helped me. Now when a friend is diagnosed, I do the same thing. In fact, most of us do this for others. I am so grateful that Linda participated in the original show in 2010, and she’s in this one too. I am also thankful to the Newhouse School for the rotating endowed chair, which comes with a reduced teaching load for three years and generous funding for a project. I’m the first faculty member who’s received the endowed chair for creative research. Everyone before me has been a traditional academic scholar. I feel so lucky that at Newhouse we have different ways of defining research. I couldn’t have done it otherwise.
NKR: We talked about this before regarding your book of interviews with Indian film directors, Not Just Bollywood―a very rigorous, very in-depth work, based in deep knowledge of your subjects. You are developing a body of work that may not seem conventionally “academic” on its face but holds its own as equally valuable. TG: Yes, I’ve come to view myself as a public scholar. The Look Now project is about using my body and my experience to talk about what’s not talked about. Not Just Bollywood was also about using my own experience of being steeped in Indian cinema to discuss something else not much talked about—the art and craft of filmmaking in all of India, especially in non-Bollywood cinema. To be fully honest, I suffer from the imposter syndrome as an academic. Not as a teacher in the classroom, not as a filmmaker, but as an academic, as a scholar, because I don’t have a Ph.D. and formal academic training. I come from the profession. My identities as a first-generation immigrant, a woman of color, and a single mother all impact my life. This is first time I have embraced my identity as a breast cancer survivor, and I am grateful to provide a way for others to share their stories also. The most important thing for me is to respect the trust that people have put in me.
Look Now Crew Iara Rogers Benchoam Brittany Watt Documentary Photographers & Filmmakers Claire Lopez Megan Reed Hair & Makeup Gina Gayle Research Assistant Nancy Keefe Rhodes Writing & Editorial Ethan Tyo Social Media Manager Joanna Giansanti Logo Designer looknowproject.org
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