The ontology and epistemology

of visual research

               

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                The main research question this piece concerns itself with is: “What is the relationship between people, their vehicles, and their surroundings?” in off-roading. To answer this question through the means of visual ethnography, the question: “How can an idea of off-roading be constructed through film?” also needs to be answered.

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                Before, I argued that “through focusing on the relational aspect of off-roading, a form of knowledge production is constructed that is more truthful”. This argument also builds on the ideas of Ruby (1991: 53) who states: “As the acknowledged author of a film, the documentarian assumes responsibility for whatever meaning exists in the image, and therefor is obligated to discover ways to make people aware of point of view, ideology, author biography, and anything else deemed relevant to an understanding of the film” (ibid). Which means that a researcher has an obligation to provide as much relevant context as possible, to those who engage with ethnographic materials. MacDougall (1998, 88) argues that this reflexivity should however not be misunderstood as some form of scientific objectivity. The idea that researcher bias can be isolated from the material, by being open about as much context as possible, “maintains the ideology and mechanism of nineteenth-century positivity… and does not grasp the fundamental insights of recent thinking about textuality” (MacDougall 1998, 88). I argue that contextualisation as described by Ruby (1991), is important to avoid the disconnect between social research and academic text (Mosse, 2006); contextualisation should be used to emphasise the constructed nature, by focussing on the involvement of the researcher, without claiming that the researcher can be isolated from the material through contextualisation. I argue that contextualisation does not imply that there is a “correct” interpretation (MacDougall 1998, 88) of ethnographic material, but rather that it should embed the idea that “the ‘author’ is in fact in many ways an artifact of the work” (ibid). Contextualisation is an argument for the manner in which interlocutor and researcher are engaged, to produce knowledge in a constructive manner, rather than a way to isolate the researcher from the ethnographic material (ibid).

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                “If anthropology is still to be regarded as producing expertise, it inevitably has to claim to produce a form of knowledge about a certain set of objects that is somehow “better” than what laypeople can produce” (Pels, 2014, 230).

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                Pels (2014) summarizes one of the issues of a constructivist approach. “If the knowledge we produce isn’t objective truth, but constructed, how do we distinguish ourselves from political activists?” (Pels 2014, 230). Pels (2014, 288) argues that cultural classification is (still) an object of anthropology, and that the validation of this practice lies in the (constructed) history of the relation between subjects and this practice. Academic knowledge production through academic writing is historically and contemporarily, in multiple ways, a disconnect with the social and collaborative aspects of ethnographic research (Mosse 2006: 936). Mosse (2006: 937) notes that the ethnographic fieldwork however is becoming more socially involved and connected. This ever growing disconnect between the anti-social writing and the ‘social research’, needs to be addressed when producing research; and cannot, according to Mosse (2006: 937) simply be solved by informant self-representation. Mosse (2006: 944) states this is important because from an epistemological point of view, the “limits of what can be known… are determined by the social relationships”. Mosse (ibid) goes on to explain that this limitation occurs because social research should be true to its social context, and if the researched disagrees with the portrayal of the social context (of the research), there is by definition something lacking in the way the social context is constructed in the research. According to MacDougall (1998, 79) in contemporary anthropology, new knowledge is centred in the experience from which the knowledge was derived. This form of knowledge production does not distinguish between the knowledge and the way it was created through experience, the experience and the knowledge are thus the same (MacDougall 1998, 79). This then means that to portray off-roading ‘correctly’ is a factor of representing the experience through the way it’s constructed by the relationship between my interlocutors and me.

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                To this end, montage of audio-visual materials is used to engage with a form of knowledge production that does not reduce experimental reality (Suhr & Willerslev 2013, 99) into the academic-social disconnect, that is common in written pieces (Mosse 2006). These audio-visual materials should be understood as a way to scope the broader context, and relational engagement of research. The audio-visual modality is a way of engaging, that gauges a form of coherent context, that remains open and incomplete (Suhr & Willerslev 2013, 99).

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                A main problem regarding representation in visual ethnography is that visual representations are often perceived as truth (Barbash & Taylor 1997, 49), especially because representation is the construction of knowledge through filmmaking (Barbash & Taylor 1997, 353). However, Barbash & Taylor (1997, 2) do state that any research participant is able to understand their representation in film much more easily than their representation through (academic) text, and thus a research participant can more easily engage with this form of knowledge production. MacDougall (1998, 80) argues that some ethnographic knowledge can only be mediated through research data, like audiovisual recording. It can therefore be argued that even though the viewer might not fully understand the constructed nature of the material, the material might be able to mediate an understanding that is shared by the participant; Even though a participant and a researcher might have a shared understanding, film might be understood differently by a viewer yet again (MacDougall 1998, 150).

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                The first part of the clip below is part of the film. When I got feedback from my peers on this clip they focused on the meaning of the gate, and presumed that it implied that we were driving somewhere where we weren’t supposed to be. The intention I had with this clip, and the understanding I share with my participants, Shan and Kaeleen, were different altogether.

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                In Australia it is common courtesy to leave gates as you found them when driving through them. Leave open gates open, and close gates behind you if they were closed when you drove up to them. This is largely because farmers depend on these gates to keep cattle in specific areas. The clip intends to show an interaction between Shan, Kaeleen, and me, learning the etiquette that is attached to gates and convoy driving.

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                The morning before this clip was recorded, we passed the gate in the opposite direction. Shan had explained to me that the passenger in the first car opens the gate, and that the passenger in the last car closes the gate. That morning our convoy consisted of around 8 vehicles. When we passed this gate on return, when this clip was taken, our convoy only consisted of 2 vehicles. Shan and me, and Kaeleen and her kids. Because I was not well versed in the etiquette of convoy driving and gates, I assumed (wrongly) that a 2-vehicle convoy would operate similarly to an 8-car convoy. It is good to know that Kaeleen, a very avid off-road driver, had just moved up to Brisbane, and was also new at convoy driving. In the clip you can hear me say to Shan ‘ask Kaeleen to close the gate’ to which he replies ‘ah nah, its only two cars’. Unlike me, Shan had obviously realized it makes no sense to have two people get out, walk to the gate, open and close it, and walk back to the vehicle, when there is only a 2-vehicle convoy. As I get out however, you can hear Kaeleen get on the radio, and say ‘I’ll close the gate’. I argue that in this case, my learning experience as an ethnographer, getting familiar with convoy driving, is very similar to the learning experience of members of the community who are convoy driving for the first time. I included this clip in the film because of this reason. I argue that showing the progressive discovering of the relation (MacDougall 1998, 89) between my interlocutors and me is important, in order to construct the idea that I am not merely an observer, but a social actor within the context of this research (ibid).

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                In the second part of the second part of the clip we get some insight in how convoy driving and gate etiquette are normally handled. In the beginning we see Lily opening the gate, and you can hear David asking me to close the gate. I can see that Lily hasn’t gone back to the vehicle, so I make a joke. In the end Lily is a kid, and forgets to close the gate, which Shan noticed. Because it is important to lock gates, so that farmers and off-roaders remain in good standing, he asks me to jump out and lock it.

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                The understanding a film mediates isn’t fully determined by the researcher, but depends on the interpretation of the viewer as well. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as this change in epistemology breaks with the problematic power relation that is associated with the authority of the researcher in ethnographic text (Clifford, 1983 145). It is important to acknowledge that the research interlocutor has a transformative impact on the research, and this impact results in a co-authorship between a researcher and their interlocutors (Snowdon 2017, 14). This means that in research, it isn’t just preferable to include interlocutors in the making of the film, but it is essential to show the relational matter, in a way that is less likely to be interpreted in a deterministic manner.

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                To this end I draw inspiration of the work of Vannini & Taggart (2019) who, through the use of longshots and the relationality of ‘living off grid’, portray the practice of ‘living off grid’ in a way that (seems) to do justice to the interaction between the respondents and researcher, while still leaving room for interpretation by the viewer. The material does not pretend to be authored by anyone else than the researchers, and doesn’t diminish participants to tools of legitimisation (Barbash & Taylor 1997, 89). Yet it doesn’t force an authoritative standpoint, as the attitude of the Vannini & Taggart (2019) towards ‘living off grid’, other than their interest in it as research topic, remains largely hidden, while being largely open about the involvement of the researcher. Their involvement in constructing the ethnographic material is not hidden, but they do not limit the viewers interpretation by focussing on their own authoritative explanation, through for example narration.

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                In conclusion, audio-visual materials should not be explained through narration or text, as it is important for the viewer to interpret the materials themselves (Barbash & Taylor 1997), (MacDougall 1998), (Suhr & Willerslev 2013), (Mosse 2006), as the increased reflexivity that is afforded to visual methods, when compared to written ethnographic material, is dependent on it. MacDougall (1998, 89) argues that any explanation given by the researcher, should be viewed with suspicion, as it “is more likely to imply a protective misconstruing of the situation” (ibid). It is thus up to the reader/viewer to interpret the audio-visual material separately. However, as shown above, there is sometimes a demand for further contextualisation (Barbash & Taylor 1997: 75). Which is possible, as long as it is done in a separate process of reflection (MacDougall 1998, 89).

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                Audio-visual methods are thus an effective modality to produce knowledge that is truthful to the relational nature of ethnographic research (Barbash & Taylor 1997, 353). But I’ve found that audio-visual methods are not necessarily useful tools to establishing relationships with interlocutors.

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                In setting up this research, I talked with different people about the issues of ‘entering the field’. How was I going to meet off-roaders, hallway across the world, if I didn’t have any local contacts? However, as discussed before, it took me almost no time at all to ‘enter the field’, almost immediately after arriving I has so much engagement with off-roaders through social media, that it was hard to keep track of all of the conversations I was having. The question that shaped my research much more was the question of how to engage with interlocutors, using a camera? If I were to join interlocutors several times on off-road trips, I had to establish some form of relationship with them, and in my opinion, ‘hiding’ behind a camera as soon as you meet someone isn’t the best way to do this.

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                Every time I met up with an interlocutor, to go off-roading with for the first time, I had to look for a moment in which it felt right to introduce the camera to the research. And this introduction process didn’t disappear over the course of the research, I encountered it the very first-time off-roading with someone, only two days after landing in Australia, in the middle of the night, with Harry, and the very last time I went off-roading, with Bryce from Hema Maps, only 4 days before I would fly back to the Netherlands.

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                One of the most interesting moments I filmed, of a guy almost losing his front right wheel when leaving a car-meet, while there were dozens of people watching it happen, was filmed because Harry Carmody, the interlocutor that I was with, suggested to me to start filming, only minutes before this happened. We had arrived at the car-meet, which was held in a parking lot, about half an hour earlier. I was not sure if people would enjoy a random Dutch guy pointing a camera at people, nor had I any idea how people would engage with Harry, if I was just following him around pointing a camera at him. Barbash & Taylor (1997) argue that interlocutors are forced to acknowledge data collection when you point a camera at them; and I did not really want to film people engaging with me as a documentary maker, as much as I wanted to engage with off-roading and car meets. It was only when Harry suggested taking the camera out to start filming, that I felt filming was appropriate.               Because he practically invited me to follow him around with a camera for a while, while he did whatever people do on car-meets, there was no conflict when he had to acknowledge the data collection, because it was him who initiated the start of recording.

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                Later that same evening a large part of the car-meet moved to what Harry called a ‘skid-pad’. A secluded piece of concrete, or bitumen, it was impossible to tell in the dark, hidden between the trees, at the end of a short, but very muddy track. On this piece of land, illuminated by the headlights of the vehicles that were lined up alongside it, 4x4 enthusiasts would burn up some rubber doing skids; better known as burnouts, or donuts, outside Australia. Between the cars, on the skid pad, and next to me and my tripod, people would line up, with their phones out, to take videos of people doing skids. Moments like these, of people going down tracks, getting bogged, or doing skids, moments that people wanted to have on film, to show off to their friends in the off-roading community, would prove to be perfect to introduce the camera into the engagement, without breaking the social interaction between me and my interlocutor.

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                I noticed early on in my research, that whenever I’d have my headphones on, listening to my interlocutors through what the microphone picked up, while the camera was rolling, that the topic would almost always, and almost always exclusively, be off-roading. I made it a point to always try and meet potential interlocutors, without a camera, for a coffee or a beer, before actually going out to drive with them. I’d have conversations with whoever’s car I was sitting in, on all kind of topics, like their interests, job and life, on the drives to and from the tracks, and whenever I’d meet them in Brisbane for coffee. But whenever the camera was on, to capture the landscape, or the vehicle driving in front of us on the highway, this conversation would quiet down. I think most of my interlocutors were interested in sharing their passion for off-roading with me, but were not so sure what to make of the camera, how to acknowledge it, when we weren’t actually engaged with off-roading. Because of this I decided that trying to set up interviews, during these drives or over coffee, would not be all that fruitful. The somewhat more formal setting of me asking questions in an interview setting, and I argue that almost any casual conversation turns into an interview setting by simply inserting a camera into the situation, wasn’t really compatible with the engagement I had while we were working on cars, or out off-roading. I was interested in recording the relational context of off-roading, through my relationship with my interlocutors, and I felt that conducting interviews would not be part of this relational context.

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                The willingness of off-roaders to share their passion, is also what drives the popularity of off-roading. Groups of people going out, and filming each other going down tracks, getting bogged and un-bogged, and doing skids; share their photos and videos online with others, and this creates a large collage of materials that showcases the highlights of off-roading. On the way back from a day of recording, and driving tracks, Harry and I were talking about this phenomenon. He noted that indeed, there are a lot of videos of vehicles out on the tracks, that showcase the experience of off-roading. “Four-wheel-drive-action, one of Australia’s largest off-road television shows, almost always contains a segment of getting to an amazing looking place and one guy telling you (the viewer) ‘this is as good as it gets’”. But Harry noted, rarely do you see on Instagram that there is a lot that goes into building a vehicle, and that there is even more that goes into keeping a vehicle on the track. “What many people don’t realise, when looking at videos of off-roading, is that it costs a lot of time, money and effort, to get a vehicle on that track”.

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                My methodology thus focussed on both the esthetical grandeur of landscapes, vehicles and tracks that people are familiar with, as well as the social cohesion and ‘elbow grease’ (the work done on vehicles that is required to drive them) that support off-roading. To this end I was able to deploy a drone to help me engage the wide and sometimes burned landscapes that defined the places we would (or specifically would not) drive through, and used a tripod, microphone, and video camera to record the experience of learning about the off-road community, and the social interactions that go with that process.

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