He’s staring at the camera with a cold commanding look, as though the photographer were his servant, a servant he didn’t like very much. Of course, he probably didn’t even know the photographer; he just thought that was the right way to look in a formal photograph.
I came across this picture in an old Silliman Portal yearbook from about 1915, while I was doing research on a history project. This young graduate’s face caught my eye, he seemed an example of a certain type, and I saved the picture for future use. I knew it had something to say.
When I go out to take pictures, I try to catch people off guard. When people know they’re being photographed, they just look like people being photographed — which makes it impossible to get an accurate picture.
But even the frozen smiles and frowns of posed pictures carry a kind of truth. When people pose for pictures, their faces remain, but their individual personalities disappear. They become pictures of what they think people expect of them, pictures of their places in the world.
Ordinary people smile to show that they’re ordinary people, happy in their surroundings, no problems — although they may, in fact, be miserable or angry. But you can’t show those feelings in pictures.
Businessmen try to look serious and responsible. Athletes harden their muscles and glare to look like powerful opponents. Policemen frown, stiffen their shoulders, and hold their arms straight down beside their guns to look like — policemen.
And what of this young Silliman graduate in 1915? He’s trying to look royal, a prince, a master.
In 1915, Silliman was the school for the sons of the elite, the wealthy merchants, the landowners, and “equality” and “democracy” were only words. Most people were not even considered Filipinos by this elite; ordinary people were only Indios.
These people really believed that owning a lot of coconut trees, or bags of rice, made them not only luckier, but actually better people than those around them. Of course, there are still people who feel that way today, but it’s no longer considered proper to say so.
But this young man isn’t even trying to look kind or pleasant to the world. In 1915, he was expected to look hard, proud, and superior, and that’s the face he put on for his picture.
Today, the photographer would ask him to smile.
