Waiting for the Land Rover to arrive for the evening game drive, I lifted the cream soda from the curve of the cast concrete bar, slipped off the cow hide stool, and meandered around the edge of the lodge bar to view the frieze of African film stills. My favorite photograph featured a hot “native” couple posing for one another in anticipation of doing something nasty. The camera is held low – belly in the dust low–and the photographer frames the shot through the naked legs of the black warrior, who stands back to the camera, legs akimbo. In the middle ground, framed by the twin pillars of his muscular calves and thighs, is the woman. Wearing a strip or two of animal skin, she is kneeling and twisted into a wicked shape, managing to show the curve of her buttocks and breast and a carnivorous smile at once. Unaccountably, the caption to the photo reads, “They brought a bit of the South Seas to the mine dump”.
The irony of this image was fabulous, even more so since visual art in Botswana is very sincere, which is not a bad thing, but sincerity can accommodate humor and that element is often lacking. For example, the art work in the National Invitational Art Exhibition currently on view at the museum in the capitol, Gaborone, is damned by good intentions. 
There are proficient paintings of history as collage.
Dramatizations of traditional culture…
and virtueless abstract paintings which give truth to the cliché, “painting is dead.” The fashion, however, was good. 
There are a few moments of beauty,
and one comic assemblage of a goat transformed into a traffic light. Goats are prolific in Botswana and freely roam the roads, making highway driving a contact sport, a fact of life that provides the back story for this bit of sculptural humor. 
Some of the art works are comic, but unintentionally so. A favorite with tourists and locals alike, celebratory images of the wild animals of Southern Africa are ubiquitous, which makes sense since the animals are a source of national pride, cultural identity and income. This hyperbolic painting of an ostrich on amphetamines is typical of the genre, and it prompts one to ask, “what do people want from pictures of wild animals?” This question has been on my mind a lot, since I’ve been trekking through game parks for a couple of weeks and I find it impossible to see the animals without being reminded of professional photographs and videos that I have seen on the subject. Is it possible that African animal pictures are the third most popular photographic subject after fashion and disaster? To understand the desire for animal pictures, I thought it might be useful to review the criteria I would use to edit photographs if I wanted them to be mainstream.
Nxai Pan in north central Botswana was the first game reserve on the itinerary and ostriches were plentiful. The following four photos are of one bird as it pecked and strutted across the grassy stage. 
Moving clockwise from the upper left, the first ostrich picture is the worst. The legs and neck are straight and the body is strictly aligned on the axis of the spine. As a result the image is static, which would be fine in a portrait of a hod carrier by August Sander, but not for a wild animal. Picture two has more potential, since the neck is curved and the balance has shifted to one leg. But the loose skin under the neck is disturbing for older viewers. A better choice is image three, in which the neck flap is hidden, the weight turns on a single, balletic point and the turn of the head suggests that the bird is enjoying a commanding view. But that scrawny bird neck is not in proportion to the body. The problems of the first three images are resolved in ostrich four and its “quality” reveals my prejudice for a certain type of picture. Loose skin obscured, the neck in this image is pulled close to the body and tensed into a graceful S, ready to strike at prey. Like number three, the body is poised for action and the gaze is intensely focused. This is a bird of purpose. This “best” image emphasizes action, poise, physical beauty and self confidence. These virtues are not only attributes of health but also of vigorous agency. I seem to want an ostrich that is authoritative. Although dialed down a notch, my preference for the dynamic is disturbingly similar to the ostrich on amphetamine painting I ridiculed. I wonder if I want the same from giraffes? 
At Nxai Pan there were also a pair of giraffes. The male was enormous and he followed the smaller female closely, seeming to hurry her along. Trotting away from my approaching truck, they came in and out of view, sometimes only heads visible, bobbing above the bush. They descended into a dry river bed which was significantly lower then the road, providing an aerial perspective on their escape. Although they covered ground quickly, they seemed to be moving in slow motion like an astronaut who gives a little leap to sail across the moon.
A few days later on a game drive in Tuli, a wonderful park on the border of South Africa and Zimbabwe, I saw zebras grazing with giraffes. Zebras like to hang with giraffes to take advantage or their superior point of view which provides early warning of advancing predators. I grabbed my camera as we approached the group, snapping a shot every second. Later, when I reviewed the sequence, the animals seemed to pose as we got closer. Compare the following pictures, which are the first and last in the sequence. It’s as if I said, “OK, time for the group portrait. Short ones in the front. You, the tall fella, stop eating and get in the back. Turn toward the camera, please. Stand up straight. Everyone ready? Smile!”
Of course the zebras and giraffe are not posing for the camera, but only orienting themselves to assess the nature of something new in their environment. It’s clear, however, that the presence of a photographer effects the animals movement in a very particular way, a fact that challenges the assumption that wild life photos are by nature candid. 
Still, when judging the worth of the four giraffe photos above, I prefer that the subject seem to be unaware of me. Since I wish to portray the giraffe as wild, the animal must appear innocent of my presence. At first it seems counterintuitive to link innocence and wildness, but access to the original wilderness, Eden, depended on innocence and was lost with knowledge. The fantasy of finding Eden is strong in people and can be capitalized upon when choosing an image for popular consumption. The first and second images are decidedly not Edenic, since the giraffe stares quizzically out of the picture. So these images can be eliminated. The third picture has potential. The animal is walking and looking away from the camera, so it seems uncontrived. It also has the advantage of illustrating the effectiveness of protective coloration and pattern in shadow. But popular pictures are not educational; popular pictures are entertaining. Muted color harmony is no match for the vividness of strong contrast, so number three is out. Which leaves picture number four, which is a good one, but for the unfortunate placement of the thorn tree under the chin of the giraffe. But Photoshop can remove the tree to create the perfect silhouette. This pose reminds me of a pretty woman who, interested in someone across the room, turns her back to the love object but flirtatiously sets her head and neck in profile. Like the winning ostrich, I’ve chosen a giraffe picture that highlights poise and beauty. But unlike the ostrich image which emphasizes agency, the giraffe selection promotes the fantasy of original innocence. 
But maybe a formal portrait of the giraffe would be more winning. Like a Baroque painting of a king on horse back, the giraffe in this photo looks down from above. The body is turned sideways to give full effect to the heroic torso, finely turned legs and richly patterned coat. The horizontal format sets the subject in its estate, like a landowner painted by Gainsborough. But there is yet another option from which to choose.
The “portrait” format uses the visual liveliness of a vertical rectangle to reiterate the vitality of the living subject. At twenty feet tall, the giraffe is a natural for the vertical. Both of these pictures successfully ennoble the giraffe and I find this appealing, but I wonder why? Having watched giraffes a bit in the last few weeks I can testify to the fact that they are awkward as often as they are composed. I think it might have to do with making myself feel better. Maybe the reverential image is a way of making amends for taking the majority of the giraffe’s habitat. Too bad the apology is lost on the giraffe.
What at first seemed like simple choices of color, light and composition now seem complicated. Is a picture of an animal more about the person who selected it then it is about the animal? And do people look at pictures of wildlife to be reassured that a robust Eden is still possible? If I want to represent the wild animal free of human interference, maybe I should choose a bad picture. 
Any better?
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