AI fakes herald the end of war photography

AI fakes herald the end of war photography
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Idea

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The authenticity of images from Gaza is now automatically doubted

by Mary Harrington

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A Palestinian child in the aftermath of an Israeli bombing. Credit: Getty

Are we entering a new age of CGI war propaganda? At the weekend Chei Wenhua, a reporter for the CCP-run China Daily propaganda outlet, tweeted an image purportedly from Gaza alongside the caption, “Atrocities endorsed by the collective West.” The image depicts a man helping five small children through blasted rubble: three on his back, a baby in his arms, another holding his hand.

Twitter’s Community Notes fact-checking group swiftly flagged the image as AI-generated, pointing out a number of suspect features — including an odd distribution of limbs, the wrong number of toes, and other “uncanny valley” quirks typical of AI imagery. Even so, the picture has received 1.1m views at the time of writing, and a glance down the quote tweets suggests at least some have taken it at face value.  


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We should expect such propaganda imagery to become both more frequent and more difficult to detect, as AI imaging gets more sophisticated. And one disturbing potential consequence may be a critical loss of faith in the kind of reporting able to galvanise humanitarian efforts during wartime. 

The twentieth century was the great age of war reporting — and especially of its pity and horror. From Holocaust footage through Vietnam war reporting to the broadcasting of both Iraq wars, journalism stripped away older narratives about heroism, focusing on the suffering of innocents. This helped energise a wave of efforts to impose restrictions on warfare with the aim of minimising such casualties.

More recently, too, it has impelled a new kind of propaganda warfare, as belligerents compete for the sympathy of an implied global digital audience. This has been powerfully in evidence from the beginning of Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, with reports and counter-reports of gains, losses, and atrocities eagerly circulated online by and for warring political tribes, well beyond the physical battlefield in a competition for international public sympathy. 

If secured, this public sentiment can tilt the scales on real-world decisions, for example in helping to grant political legitimacy for military or financial support from foreign allies. So it’s well worth the effort to try and shape it. And in the digital-era media battles that do so, a picture is proverbially worth a thousand words. But this twentieth-century relation between media and warfare has grown more ambivalent, especially as the world has become increasingly multipolar and the internet has de-centralised broadcasting. 

Today, a multiplying number of actors with an interest in shaping public opinion struggle for influence, across multiplying media outlets. The heavily youth-focused (and CCP-owned) platform TikTok, for example, has been linked to overwhelming support for Palestine among US youth. Russian TV produces fake BBC bulletins linking Ukraine with Hamas. And against this backdrop of intensified propaganda war, we must now also reckon with a rising tide of increasingly convincing AI imagery. 

The aggregate effect is already discernible in the Israel-Palestine conflict. As reports and counter-reports of atrocities circulate, it’s increasingly common for overseas supporters of the warring sides to each dismiss the other’s claims simply as fake: not just exaggerations but pure fabrication. 

Beyond the immediate conflict between Israel and Palestine, we should expect this new landscape to degrade the media’s relationship to humanitarianism. For the power of such calls on public empathy was always predicated on a shared belief that there was at least some relationship between the images in circulation and what’s happening in the real world. What happens, though, when fakery is so good we can no longer take this for granted? 

The end of trustworthy battlefield imagery is the end of wartime humanitarianism. If no one is willing to believe anything they see or read about foreign atrocities, because no one is willing to accept media evidence, we will slowly lose our grip on every postwar convention governing human rights during wartime. It is a sobering prospect.

Indigenous or pretender? Questions raised about UW-Milwaukee professor who led Native studies institute

Indigenous or pretender? Questions raised about UW-Milwaukee professor who led Native studies institute

Weeks out from opening day of an Indigenous art exhibit at the Chicago Field Museum last year, Doug Kiel raised an alarm with other curators.

One of the featured artists, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee professor and poet Margaret Noodin, had posted a statement online meant to address long-running questions about whether she was really Native.

But to Kiel, who is a member of the Oneida Nation of Wisconsin, the statement read like an admission she was not Native.

“It’s really quite rambling babble about, ‘I know a person and I was in a ceremony,’ and it’s like, ‘No, no, no, no. This is not how this works at all,’” said Kiel, a Native American history professor at Northwestern University.

Kiel said he and other curators considered it a breach of trust that Noodin did not disclose her family history was “full of question marks.” They scrambled to remove her work from the exhibit.

“No matter how you slice it, you have made very big, inexcusable mistakes that legitimately call into question whether you can be trusted to work with Native people and communities,” Kiel wrote in an email to Noodin this spring, which he shared with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. “You have years of amends to start making.”

It was a flashpoint in a now-yearslong controversy over Noodin’s ancestry that ramped up in 2021 after anonymous users of an online forum began accusing Noodin of misleading people about her identity.

Since then, Noodin stepped down from a $167,000-per-year job as director of UWM’s Electa Quinney Institute, which supports Native students and research. She moved out of the Milwaukee metro area and resettled in Minnesota, where she is director of a tribal nation’s Head Start program. She still teaches online classes part time at UWM.

At best, Noodin has been accused of not being fully transparent about the extent of her Indigenous heritage. At worst, she has been accused of lying about who she is and building a career around a fictitious Indigenous identity.

The controversy over Noodin’s identity has cast a shadow over her work to revitalize Indigenous languages. It raises questions about who belongs in leadership positions that support Indigenous students, and how universities vet those people.

Noodin, who declined to give an interview for this story but touched on her identity in a 2021 Journal Sentinel interview for an unrelated story, has denied lying about who she is.

Despite admitting she does not have documentation of an Indigenous ancestor, she said she grew up believing she was Indigenous because of what her family told her. She cannot point definitively to a tribal nation she is descended from but has spent years learning the Ojibwe language and forging connections with Indigenous communities.

“Throughout my life I have tried to continually increase my knowledge of my own family and the communities where I am welcome and included,” she said in a statement for this story. “During my life I have listened to relatives, friends and elders who asked that I use my gifts and creativity to honor all of my ancestors without denial or erasure of oral family histories.”

Emails obtained by the Journal Sentinel show UWM officials privately backed Noodin and tried sidestepping the controversy until the news organization began asking questions this spring. In response to a public records request, UWM indicated in August it had opened an investigation into Noodin.

UWM declined to make administrators available for an interview but said it is “aware of and troubled by” the allegations against Noodin.

“Our students and communities must trust that we are honest and authentic in our work,” the statement said.

Critics of UWM professor Margaret Noodin feel ‘betrayed’

Noodin began teaching at UWM in 2013, after many years as an Ojibwe language instructor in Michigan. She received tenure in 2016.

A year after arriving at UW-Milwaukee, Margaret Noodin was promoted to lead the university's Electa Quinney Institute, which supports Native students and research.

The online posts accusing Noodin of lying about her identity began in 2021, on a forum called New Age Fraud.

The following year, Noodin brought the anonymous accusations to the attention of several UWM administrators, emails show. Noodin said the accusers have “been trying for nearly a year to get me fired” and questioned whether it had reached the point of defamation.

In March 2022, she posted a “positionality” statement online, meant to clarify her racial and ethnic identity. She also responded on the forum to users.

“The fact that I haven’t really been misrepresenting myself seems to set off even more fury,” she told UWM officials in an email.

Scott Gronert, dean of the College of Letters and Science, wrote back with an apology for “having to deal with these challenges to your identity, which you have so openly addressed in your recent posts and throughout your time at UWM.”

But at least some students didn’t feel Noodin had been transparent.

Antonio Doxtator, a two-time UWM graduate who took two of her Ojibwe language classes, was stunned to read her statement. To him, it was confirmation Noodin had little, if any, Indigenous ancestry.

“I felt betrayed,” said Doxtator, an Oneida Nation citizen. “I never would have taken her classes if I’d known she wasn’t Native.”

Two other former students who are tribal members described feeling uncomfortable in classes or avoiding campus events because of their suspicions, even before 2021, that Noodin was not Native. They spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation from Noodin or her supporters.

Some of Noodin’s former colleagues, like University of Michigan instructor Howard Kimewon, felt similarly betrayed. The two taught Ojibwe language classes together in Michigan.

Kimewon told the Journal Sentinel he felt like Noodin took advantage of him and used him for his knowledge of Ojibwe, his first language, to publish books together and further her career. He said he doesn’t believe Noodin is helping people, going so far as to call her a “con artist.”

“She did enough damage to me,” he said. “I can’t forget it.”

Martina Osawamick, of the Wiikwemkoong First Nation in Ontario, worked with Noodin at a nonprofit for preserving the nation’s languages and culture. She said Noodin implied she was Native and was “appalled” to learn Noodin hadn’t been forthcoming about her identity.

“It’s absolutely not right for people to be doing this,” she said. “It’s disturbing.”

Who can claim Indigeneity?

Noodin’s case comes in the midst of an ongoing debate in Indian Country about race-shifting, fraud and “pretendians,” or people who falsely portray themselves as having Indigenous ancestry.

Madison arts leader Kay LeClaire was exposed earlier this year on the same online forum for allegedly fabricating an Indigenous identity and building a career around it.

Other prominent examples include ethnic studies scholar Andrea Smith, whose claims to Cherokee heritage have been contested repeatedly, and University of California, Berkeley professor Elizabeth Hoover, who admitted to wrongly identifying as Native. U.S. Sen. Elizabeth Warren was criticized for previously claiming she was Native and relying on family stories of Cherokee and Delaware ancestors.

“It does harm because they are taking the microphone from Indigenous people who are perfectly capable of representing themselves,” said Ojibwe language expert Anton Treuer. “It can damage the faith that people have in whatever activity that person is associated with.”

The questions around who can call themselves Indigenous are complex. 

In the U.S., one way Indigenous people identify themselves is through enrollment as a citizen in a recognized tribe.

But not everyone who comes from Indigenous ancestry qualifies for enrollment in a tribe. Many tribes still use “blood quantum” to decide who qualifies for enrollment, a controversial standard that requires a minimum percentage of tribal blood and has origins in federal efforts to disenfranchise Native peoples.

Other tribes do not use blood quantum, and only require members have proof of descent from a tribal member.

Even so, some Indigenous people lack definitive proof of their ancestry. Centuries of federal efforts to forcibly remove Native Americans from their homelands and assimilate them into white society have eroded their ties to tribal communities and caused many to lose connection with their cultures.

But critics of Noodin say that is not Noodin’s story.

“Unverified claims to Indigenous communities is not sufficient, not for an Indigenous studies expert, for a scholar in the field,” said Kiel, the museum curator.

Noodin in a portrait taken by a UWM photographer.

‘We don’t have any evidence’

Born Margaret O’Donnell, Noodin was raised in Chaska, Minnesota, a suburb of the Twin Cities.

She told the Journal Sentinel she grew up believing she was Native American partly because of family stories of boarding school and an older relative who spoke Ojibwe words and phrases. The Ojibwe people, also known as Chippewa, are a culture of Native peoples spread across the northern U.S. and Canada.

Noodin studied at the University of Minnesota and wrote for a Native newspaper, The Circle. She earned her doctorate in 2001. Her thesis was on Native American literature.

Afterward, she began teaching Ojibwe at Michigan universities and publishing books and poetry in the language.

Shortly before leaving for UWM, she changed her last name from her married name of Noori to Noodin, an Ojibwe name meaning “windy.”

In online publications and newspaper articles, Noodin often identified as an Ojibwe descendant without specifying which of the dozens of existing Ojibwe tribes she was supposedly descended from. When she did identify a tribe, she sometimes used vague language, saying she was “affiliated with” or “connected with” that tribe. Over time, she has claimed affiliations with different Ojibwe tribes and with Métis peoples in Canada.

More recently, she has also begun to note her Irish, French and English ancestry.

Noodin has claimed in online posts her Ojibwe ancestry stems from a great-great-grandfather on her father’s side, named Henri Lavallee, but she has provided no documentation of his existence. Early 20th-century marriage records for that family line list a different person as her great-great-grandfather.

“If I can find more records on Henri Lavallee, that would be great,” Noodin told the Journal Sentinel in 2021.

Noodin has acknowledged neither she nor her parents or grandparents are enrolled citizens of a tribe. Yet in a 2010 presentation at a Michigan library, Noodin claimed unspecified members of her family had been “enrolled” in the “Minnesota Chippewa from Grand Portage area.”

In 2021, Noodin said she believed she could have been descended from either the Grand Portage Band of Lake Superior Chippewa or the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe, which are both part of the overarching Minnesota Chippewa Tribe.

“I’ve spent a lot of times near those reservations and had elders there work with me to, kind of, figure (it) out. But we don’t have any evidence,” Noodin said then.

Noodin’s mother declined to be interviewed for this story. Her father could not be reached.

Noodin does not fit the criteria for enrollment in either the Grand Portage or Mille Lacs nations and has not received a letter of descendancy, according to Karen Pemberton, of Minnesota Chippewa Tribe’s enrollment department.

The Minnesota Chippewa Tribe had no record of a Henri Lavallee or the great-grandparents on that side of the family, Pemberton added.

Grand Portage Chairman Robert Deschampe did not respond to calls or emails seeking comment. Noodin was hired by the tribe earlier this year to lead its Head Start program.

In another example of Noodin’s inconsistent explanations, she said in 2009 her great-grandmother — four generations removed — was the last person in her family to speak Ojibwe fluently. But in 2020, Noodin claimed it had been “five generations since anybody in my family was fluent in the language.”

Lack of records not an issue, Margaret Noodin’s supporters say

Noodin’s supporters said the lack of definitive records or clear family lines doesn’t matter if the tribal community accepts her as one of their own. They said enrollment and genealogical records are often incomplete, inaccurate or tied to colonial systems designed to erase Indigenous peoples’ very existence.

UW-Milwaukee professor Mark Freeland, whom Noodin helped recruit to succeed her as director of the Electa Quinney Institute, said too often written records are seen as more accurate than spoken family histories.

“I think she has a family narrative, as many people do, and is utilizing that to engage with her community,” he said. “This is not some new career person trying to get ahead. This is somebody who’s been day in, day out working tirelessly to engage.”

Mark Freeland, right, succeeded Noodin as director of the Electa Quinney Institute, which supports Native students and research on Indigenous languages and culture. The two stand in a fire circle in front of Merrill Hall in 2022.

Tish Keahna, a member of the Meskwaki Nation, met Noodin decades ago when Noodin worked at The Circle, the Native newspaper in Minnesota. She said Noodin was clear she didn’t know exactly where her Indigenous family was from.

“My understanding is that her grandmother spoke Ojibwe,” she said. “If you’re somebody in the middle of the last century who speaks Ojibwe, and you’re female, that’s a big Ojibwe flag. That’s an indicator of community connection.”

Keahna knows of people who have pretended to be Native, but she believes Noodin is not one of them. She said Noodin is committed to her community and has worked to repair long-lost connections.

“Why are we punishing people who want to come home?” she said.

Some Native scholars say being accepted as kin by an Indigenous community is not the same as having Indigenous ancestry. They also say individuals who have lost touch with their Indigenous roots can at least point to clear family connections within Indigenous communities.

“If you’re an Indigenous person, where is your family?” said Kiel, the museum curator. “Where are the other people who are going to come forward and say, ‘Yeah, I’m a member of such-and-such an Ojibwe nation, and she’s one of my cousins’? It should be as simple as that.”

Jill Doerfler, head of the American Indian Studies department at the University of Minnesota-Duluth, believes it’s inappropriate for anyone to claim they are Native without knowing who in their family was an enrolled tribal citizen. She introduces herself as the daughter of an enrolled White Earth Nation citizen.

“Native people understand the need for specificity,” she said.

Noodin bolstered Indigenous studies program at UW-Milwaukee

Supporters also point to Noodin’s track record of supporting Native studies at UWM.

Before her arrival a decade ago, the university’s Ojibwe language offerings were rudimentary, said former professor and Native studies coordinator Cary Miller. A Native elder taught introductory classes on part-time basis. After the elder’s death, Miller pushed administrators to hire a full-time faculty member.

UWM records show Noodin was recruited as a “target of opportunity” hire, which meant the university could recruit her directly and bypass the typical nationwide search process.

Target opportunity programs have been used in higher education for decades primarily as a way to diversify faculty ranks.

UW-Milwaukee said Noodin was not hired through the target opportunity program based on her identity, but because of her academic credentials and expertise in Ojibwe.

The pool of people who speak Ojibwe, a severely endangered language, is small. The pool of those who speak it and have a doctorate is even smaller.

Noodin can be seen participating in a jingle healing dance in the background of this photo.

Noodin brought a unique skill set that went beyond teaching and research, Miller said. She had a knack for budgets and bureaucracy. 

In 2015, state budget cuts put Indigenous student services potentially on the chopping block, Miller recalled. Noodin made the case to keep the Native student support offices by calculating how much tuition money tribally funded students from Wisconsin brought in, more than justifying the few advising positions for them. 

“She went to bat for Indigenous programs at the university on a huge scale,” Miller said.

Recruiting and retaining Indigenous staff was also a priority. When Miller, for example, received an offer from another university, she said Noodin contributed some of her own research funds for the counteroffer to try to keep her. 

Noodin also secured millions in grant money for research. Of a dozen grant applications reviewed by the Journal Sentinel, she identified as Native in two of them.

In one application for a project on Native folk music, Noodin described herself as “Pine Marten Clan and a descendant of the Grand Portage Band of Lake Superior Chippewa and the Métis Nation.” The National Endowment for the Arts, a federal agency, awarded $10,000.

In a second application for environmental-related research money, she described herself as “Native.” The application was not funded.

Vetting processes differ among universities

At the time of Noodin’s hiring, UWM made no extensive effort to confirm her ancestry. Like most all American universities, UWM’s policy at the time was — and still is — self-declaration, where individuals claim Native ancestry and schools largely take them at their word.

Miller recalled Noodin sharing during the hiring process that she wasn’t enrolled in a tribe but said she was recognized as a descendant. Later, Noodin suggested her descendancy went back six or seven generations, according to Miller.

“I probably would not claim it quite as firmly as she had,” Miller said. “But I also don’t think there was a firm messaging out there to suggest that she couldn’t.”

That’s changing, at least in Canada, where Miller now works for the University of Manitoba. 

Canadian institutions are moving away from self-declaration policies and toward policies developed in consultation with Indigenous communities that require additional proof. Queen’s University in Ontario created an Indigenous Oversight Council to provide guidance on identity issues, and the University of Saskatchewan has a document verification process.

“It’s unfortunate that we have to do this, but it is a self-identification free-for-all out there,” said Kim TallBear, a Native studies professor at the University of Alberta. “You’ve got a lot of people out there doing things like Margaret Noodin is accused of doing, who are appropriating and stealing resources as a form of theft.”

Freeland, Noodin’s successor at UWM, sees the Canadian policies as a step in the wrong direction. 

Mark Freeland leads the Electa Quinney Institute at UW-Milwaukee.

Freeland and other Noodin supporters believe there is a small group of individuals over-policing Native identities. This creates real harm, they say, by discouraging people whose families have lost connections to their Indigenous roots from re-connecting.

“Is self-identification error-free?” he said. “Absolutely not, but it is conducive to us being good Indigenous people, treating one another well.”

Doxtator, one of Noodin’s former students, said UWM is responsible for vetting staff and failed to do so, which in turn failed him as a student. 

Another former Noodin student, Jeneile Luebke, doesn’t know how to feel. She remembers Noodin taking time out of her day to attend Luebke’s doctoral dissertation defense. She said she will continue to support Noodin, as the professor did for her. 

However, Luebke is troubled by Noodin’s inability to provide evidence of her Indigenous ancestry. She feels people should be transparent about who they are.

“If she was knowingly being deceptive, I feel she owes the community an apology and should work to restore trust and make up for damage with the community,” she said. “It’s really on her to figure that out.”

Contact Kelly Meyerhofer atkmeyerhofer@gannett.com or 414-223-5168 and follow her on X at@KellyMeyerhofer. Contact Sarah Volpenhein at svolpenhei@gannett.com or 414-607-2159 and follow her on X at @SarahVolp. Contact Frank Vaisvilas at fvaisvilas@gannett.com or 815-260-2262 and follow him on X at @vaisvilas_frank.

10 year old Bangalore kid wins prestigious ‘Wildlife Photographer of the Year’ award

10 year old Bangalore kid wins prestigious ‘Wildlife Photographer of the Year’ award

Vihaan Talya Vikas, a remarkable 10-year-old from Bengaluru, has made headlines by clinching the top prize in his category at the renowned Wildlife Photographer of the Year (WPY) competition, held in the heart of London. This prestigious competition, organized by the Natural History Museum, is often referred to as the ‘Oscars of Photography’ and serves as a global platform for showcasing the world’s most exceptional wildlife photography.
Vihaan’s winning photograph captures a spider in an intriguing position with a sculpture of Lord Krishna, nestled on the outskirts of his city. The image is not only striking but also thought-provoking. It wonderfully captures the spider, seemingly entranced by the divine notes of Krishna’s flute. This captivating image stood out among the 50,000 entries from 95 countries, ultimately earning Vihaan the coveted award in the under-10 category.
Vihaan’s winning entry will become part of the prestigious WPY59 collection and be prominently featured in the upcoming Wildlife Photographer of the Year Exhibition at the Natural History Museum. This exhibition will embark on a global tour, visiting 25 venues across four continents, with the primary aim of raising awareness about the critical need for wildlife conservation.

The winning image

As mentioned on the Natural History Museum website, Dhritiman Mukherjee, Wildlife and Conservation Photographer and Competition Judge, commented that “this image conveys so many interesting things to me. What I like most is the thought process behind it and the composition of the image. It talks about coexistence very nicely. The inclusion of a historic sculpture adds a different dimension to the concept. Then here we are, seeing a spider – a smaller and less attended life form. So, for me, this one served the purpose of art, concept, conservation and science very nicely.”

According to sources, Vihaan’s journey for this award began during a visit to a temple near Bangalore, where he chanced upon an ornamental tree trunk spider in the midst of trapping its prey. This awe-inspiring moment unfolded against a wall adorned with a sculpture of Lord Krishna, evoking a sense of connection between nature and spirituality.

Further, “Ten-year-old Vihaan started photography three years ago. He likes to use both macro and telephoto lenses in his work. Vihaan enjoys going on safari as well as capturing images of spiders and insects at the nearby parks in Bengaluru. Alongside photography, he’s also interested in studying astronomy”, Natural History Museum website wrote.

About the competition

The Wildlife Photographer of the Year is an annual global wildlife photography competition held at the Natural History Museum in London, England. This event features an exhibition showcasing the winning and commended photographs, which subsequently embarks on a worldwide tour.
The competition allows photographers to submit a maximum of 25 images each year. These submissions can span a spectrum of subjects, from close-up animal portraits to captivating landscapes, groundbreaking photojournalism to innovative photographic techniques.
Since 2003, the competition has introduced a grand prize awarded to a single image selected from the winning entries across various categories. In both the adult and young photographer divisions, the grand prize goes to the photographer producing the most exceptional image. The young photographer, aged 17 and under, achieving this honor is bestowed with the title “The Young Wildlife Photographer of the Year,” while the photographer over 17 years of age, creating the best image, earns the prestigious title of “The Wildlife Photographer of the Year.”

#Unstoppable21: Meet Karnav Rastogi, a global climate change advocate

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California State Parks, partners launch ‘Arts in California Parks’ program

California State Parks, partners launch ‘Arts in California Parks’ program

SACRAMENTO, Calif.— California State Parks announced the launch of a new program, Arts in California Parks, to help make California’s parks more inclusive and welcoming. Through this new program, artists, culture bearers, and California Native American tribes will be eligible to receive funding to create artwork throughout state and local parks. The public is invited to chime in on the development of the program through a survey at ArtsinCaliforniaParks.org, and to participate as visitors or collaborators.

“The Arts in California Parks program will help cultivate curiosity and awe for park visitors through thought-provoking and emotional experiences,” said California State Parks Director Armando Quintero. “The program will lift up and support artists, and create connections to culture, the community, and the world we live in.”

The program represents an exciting collaboration between State Parks, the California Arts Council, and Parks California, and is one of the many efforts underway as part of State Parks’ Reexamining Our Past Initiative. Initiated by a one-time $25 million general fund allocation that extends through 2027, the program will fund projects in both state and local parks that offer perspective on California’s past and present and help promote community connections.



“We are proud to launch the Arts in California Parks program with Director Quintero and California State Parks,” said California Arts Council Executive Director Jonathan Moscone. “Thanks to the leadership and vision of Governor Newsom and our State Legislature, California’s arts and creative workforce will have paid opportunities to help transform our state parks and connect the arts and nature.”

Artists, culture bearers, and California Native American tribes interested in creating public art in California state and/or local parks are encouraged to join the new Arts in California Parks Artist Directory, a tool designed to help facilitate the co-creation of project proposals between park entities and creative partners. The directory is a resource that will support relationship building and collaboration by allowing park staff to connect with artists and/or organizations based on location, art medium, and more.



“We are thrilled to collaborate with California State Parks and the California Arts Council to design and manage this new program. Art brings tremendous cultural and social value to public parks by adding meaning to our spaces and uniqueness to our communities,” said Kindley Walsh Lawlor, president and CEO of Parks California. “Art in nature has the power to inspire people to feel more connected to place. Through community engagement and supporting local artists and art organizations, this new program is an exciting opportunity for everyone to create lasting memories in parks.”

Opportunities for creatives and communities to collaborate with park entities on funded projects will be announced in 2024, under two distinct sub-programs. The Local Park Grant Program, which will fund projects in local parks through a competitive grant program, will launch in 2024 and is anticipated to include three funding cycles. The State Parks sub-program-initiated pilot projects in 2023 and will fund additional projects in State Parks in summer 2024 and summer 2025.

More than 20 pilot projects are underway within state parks, including performances, events, and installations.

An advisory committee offering diverse geographic, multicultural, interdisciplinary, and organizational perspectives is being formed to guide the development and implementation of the program. With guidance from the advisory committee as well as community and artist participation, this program will increase the capacity of California’s parks to nourish, educate, and inspire individuals and communities.

Additional information on the new Arts in California Parks program and related opportunities is available online at ArtsinCaliforniaParks.org.

On finding your focus

On finding your focus

I would love to hear how you got started with photography and what your experience has been like.

I was the friend that always had the camera growing up, and really, just didn’t think anything about it. Whether it was a disposable, a point-and-shoot, or a film camera, that’s where it all started. I took a class in high school, and I took a photography elective in college, but that was as far as I went when it came to learning photography. I went to a school for finance in New York and started my adult career life in that industry. Then, the recession hit, and that’s when I really noticed how I desired to use my time.

I was in Harlem and had this camera, and I kept getting a lot of nudges from people like, “Oh, what happened to your photography?” I took that as a little clue to remember that it was something that I enjoyed. But I had a film camera, and without a job, I didn’t want to spend a ton of money having to buy film. Eventually, I got two cameras, one from my boyfriend at the time, and another from my parents for Christmas. So, I decided to take the more advanced camera, and return the other one, and just started to reteach myself photography—mainly by taking street photography and portraits of friends.

I would take free classes wherever. Then, I got a few internships, which were good for learning different processes. But I was very nervous—going from finance to photography—and especially how it happened being laid off. It felt like I just had no other option, so I was insecure about doing so well and making money. I didn’t know many other women photographers, or Black photographers who were doing well and weren’t starving artists. Not seeing that and not having those expanders didn’t help with my confidence. I never really thought about it as a profession. It was just like a dream.

Eventually, I moved back to Maryland with my family, and my brother convinced me to enter into an emerging artist call for Artscape in Baltimore. I only had a few days to apply, and I prayed and said to myself, “If I get this, then I’ll take myself seriously.” I was chosen as the photographer, which gave me the opportunity to print and sell my work and get a mentorship. So, that’s what took me down the road of being a professional photographer.

Erin Douglas, Black Burner Project

It’s crazy that something as unfortunate and annoying as getting laid off is what propelled you into doing photography more consistently. That’s very cool and inspiring. I recently got laid off, too, and I live in Harlem as well, so I know the feeling. Was that period like when you’d recently been laid off while living in New York, and were spending your free time rediscovering your love for photography?

I learned to love being more of the fly— well, the butterfly, I used to say—on the wall. I wasn’t rushing, so I started seeing things that I wouldn’t normally see, down the same streets that I had walked a million times. I noticed the details of the things people wore, and how they all went together. And I remember just being like, “Man, there’s so many moments happening at the same time, that are worthy of capturing, and nobody is noticing except for me, and a few other people who may be people watching, or doing the same thing as me.” That was a cool time, but it didn’t feel cool. It just felt a little bit overwhelming, a little unnerving. But I felt really inspired by what I was seeing, so I was combatting those two feelings.

New York is full of so much magic, but not a lot of people have the luxury of time to experience it. It’s cool that you had the ability to slow down, and really take in everything that was going on. That’s the cool thing about photography. It forces you to slow down, and really consider the beauty around you. How did you eventually gain the confidence that you have now, the ability to walk somewhere, and take photos?

It took a long time. I still get nervous sometimes, depending on what space I’m walking into, but I think it’s all mainly internal. I probably get more nervous around directing people. I think travel had a lot to do with that, specifically when I started to travel solo because I had to be intentional about creating the experience that I wanted. [When you travel alone], you create the energy, so I had to realize, “Oh, in order for me to meet new people, I had to either approach them or create an inviting energy.” Traveling really helped me learn how to approach people, start conversations with them, and ask if I can document the moment. I think that had a huge impact on my confidence.

Erin Douglas, Black Burner Project

How did you eventually get involved with Burning Man?

That was several years later. I have a friend who is still in New York, and she started going to Burning Man, which I hadn’t heard about prior. And she would always say I should go, but she didn’t really give much detail about it. I knew very little and wasn’t interested enough to research it, or anything. But eventually, she gifted me a ticket for my birthday.

I was excited to go, but I was also nervous, because just the little bit that I knew, I was just like, “Am I going to really vibe with it?” And I knew there was probably not going to be that many Black or brown people, and I’d never camped before. So it was just a ton of different things. Even as a solo traveler who’d been around the world, I was nervous. So, that was my entry into Burning Man.

At the festival, there’s a lot going on, but it’s still intimate, and very caring out there. The first year I went, I brought my camera, but I was nervous about taking photos. I didn’t want to invade people’s personal space and experiences. It took me a few days before I took out my camera and started taking photos. The sunrise is a really magical moment out there. The first time I saw it, I forgot my camera, and my phone died, but I recognized I was supposed to just be very present in that, and experience it for myself, which then, allowed me to realize how magical it was. The next few days, I started taking photos of people watching the sunrise. Afterward, I’d approach them and tell them that I had taken a photo, and give them a little piece of paper with my info. I figured that they were going to lose it, but pretty much every person contacted me later.

Ok, wow.

That was really cool and made me more comfortable going up to people at Burning Man. And then when I posted the photos on my Instagram, I think, because I was a woman of color, people saw that I was there, and I was someone that they could ask questions, and say, “What is that? What is this place?” Or, “I wanted to go but didn’t have never seen any proof that [Black people] were really out there. So I didn’t think we were invited. I didn’t think we were welcome.” That’s what led to me think about the idea of going back a second year, with the intention of focusing on documenting people of color.

Something that really stands out to me about your story and your evolution from when you were in high school to now is just how much you continually put yourself out there, embrace the unknown and the uncertainty, just for the love of photography, and because of your curiosity. What that experience was like the second time around?

It was amazing because I really felt myself stepping into my purpose. I had such great responses to people who I stopped to photograph, which led me to come up with the idea for the group photo, which was a really magical experience as well. So yeah, it was great in a lot of different ways, both personally, and in terms of the experience itself and evolving as a person, an artist, a photographer.

And have you gone since then?

So, I went back in 2019. That was a third year going and my second year doing the Black Burner project, and it basically blew up that year, because I did a lot of work in the in-between: being a resource, posting information, and putting a lot of time and effort towards creating a community, that Burning Man wasn’t creating in terms of inclusion for people of color and just recognizing the importance of seeing yourself, and how something so simple can make an impact. If you’re not being affected by it, you’re not thinking that way. And that was having a huge impact on people’s decision to go, or not. The visuals and the stories that were out there weren’t really depicting what Burning Man was really about. We were small in numbers, but we still were there. Nobody was really focused on making sure they were including that, so that is what my work is focused on.

Erin Douglas Recommends:

Go on a solo trip if you haven’t done so already.

Book: Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself by Joe Dispenza

When you feel resistance, do it anyway. Do something that scares you a bit. It can be small. My next challenge is to take myself on a solo date roller skating. I haven’t been skating since I was in elementary school.

Rest well, and don’t give yourself a hard time about it.

Burning Man. If you’ve never been, but have always been curious. Just do it.


‘Changing takes time’: how female photographers in Africa are redefining their lives

‘Changing takes time’: how female photographers in Africa are redefining their lives

When Sarah Waiswa returned to Kenya in 2010 after nearly a decade abroad, she was struck by how much had changed for women. More women were expressing their views and talking about their experiences. A number were redefining what an “African identity” meant to them.

Sarah Waiswa, photographer born in Uganda.

The narrow expectations of women across society were being questioned.

After so many years in the United States, Ugandan-born Waiswa says she took up photography as a way to reconnect with this changed continent. She had always loved photographs, pouring through family albums for hours, intrigued by changes in her family, their style and times. She was working in the corporate world, but as her pictures gained interest, what started as a hobby morphed into a career.

“The internet democratised photography – it made it easier for people to self-publish and this helped shift the narrative, because people are able to tell stories about themselves and their communities,” says Waiswa.

Using visual contrasts for social commentary is a feature of her work. In her photo series on albinism, she uses dreamlike images to illustrate the persecution and exclusion people face, while her photographs of ballet in Kibera shows dancers from the Nairobi slum practising an art commonly associated with privilege and wealth.

She brings this technique to a new exhibition she has curated for the Goethe Institute in Nairobi.

Salooni Salon by Darlyne Komukama, a self-taught Ugandan photographer and artist.

Modern east African women are juxtaposed with images from colonial times, to document change over the past few decades. The exhibition also features visual works by 12 female photographers from Kenya, Uganda, Somalia, Ethiopia, Tanzania and Rwanda.

Using portraiture and documentary photojournalism, the images depict African womanhood through themes of identity, empowerment and fragility, and the modern versus traditional.

The photos highlight how viewpoints affect storytelling. Old images taken by white, mainly male photographers offer a glimpse into the prevailing colonial attitudes and stereotypes of women at the time. Archival photos, for instance, include images of topless women in loincloths.

From the series Jab, by Tracy Keza, Rwandan filmmaker and photographer.

“It’s as if they were being photographed to be categorised, to be catalogued,” says Waiswa. “The images were used for ethnic and anthropological studies, to maintain racial hierarchies and justify the colonial presence by painting the idea that Africans were primitive and helpless.”

Some images show women in training centres, acquiring skills that aligned with colonial goals of “modernising” and “civilising” locals, while later photos show accomplishments, such as Agatha Mboje, the first Kenyan woman to get a university degree, in the 1950s, and Lydia Anukowa, the first Kenyan woman to train as an air hostess, in 1962.

An African woman wearing a black veil, from the series Hair and Melanin, by Margaret Njeri Ngigi. She saysthe series is about the enduring and detrimental impact of colourism on black women, and is ‘an ode to black skin girls put to shame, and [who are] robbed of happiness and joy because of the colour of their skin and the texture of their hair’.

The recent works aim to centre and depict women’s agency and identity, and their ongoing struggles.

Kenyan photographer Thandiwe Muriu uses hairstyles and colourful fabrics that make women simultaneously blend into and stand out of the image to highlight womanhood and culture.

Photographer Fadumo Mohamoud Ali shows women in moments of ease and abandon in their everyday lives – rare images in prevailing media coverage of Somalia.

Kenyan photographer Mumbi Muturi illustrates the weight of her grief as she mourned her mother with soft and vulnerable imagery that challenges common, linear equivalences of black womanhood with relentless strength.

Works by the Tanzanian photographer Neema Ngelime pay visual tribute to women’s paid and unpaid labour, while Ugandan non-binary artist DeLovie Kwagala uses documentary photography to show the transgender experience through family relationships.

The exhibition, titled Sisi ni Hao – which in Swahili means both “we are them” and “we are here” – gives a collective nod to women’s shared history. “If you can’t see [those images], you can’t engage with that history,” says Waiswa.

Colonial images of Africans have been relegated to the archives due to a sense that they are either unrelatable or inaccessible, says Waiswa. However, the impact of photographic history on public perceptions still need to be reckoned with.

Racial hierarchies are still evident in coverage of Africa, she says. Media outlets still display dead black or brown bodies during coverage of war or terrorism, but rarely white ones, for instance, a subject of criticism in recent years.

Two women talking in Somalia.

“Things have changed … but you’re fighting against a system that began in an oppressive and violent way and changing that takes time,” she says.

When she took up a camera in 2015, there were few or no centralised databases for African female photographers. In 2021, Waiswa created African Women in Photography to publish and exhibit their work, provide them with a space to engage and collaborate, and to connect with training and funding opportunities.

DeLovie Kwagala with their mother and son, Myles, in Johannesburg.

Waiswa would like to eventually open a resource centre.

“When other people have told your stories for so long and represented you in a certain way, it’s even more important for us to give our own perspectives – a more nuanced view of what women’s lives and experiences are like on the continent,” she says. “We need to reclaim the narrative.”

Sisi ni Hao runs until 10 November at Goethe-Institut, Nairobi

Events for Native American Heritage Month Celebration | GW Today | The George Washington University

Events for Native American Heritage Month Celebration | GW Today | The George Washington University

Here is a list of events for Native American Heritage Month both on the George Washington University campus and in local D.C. venues. Most of them are free. Learn how Indigenous growers and food practitioners are using ancestral foods and land management; learn the significance of bead work in various Native cultures; hear from alumni Robert Maxim (Mashpee Wampanoag) and Kathy Baird (Sicangu Lakota/Oneida) about their experiences as GW students and as leaders in their professions; take a trip to the National Museum of the American Indian for their Honoring the Jingle Dress and more.

Nov. 2, 1 p.m. to 10 p.m. Hesperus National Forum

1300 I St. NW
Free
Hesperus National Forum celebrates Native American Heritage Month and the contributions of Native American and Alaska Native veterans.

Nov. 3, 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Native American Arts

Library of Congress
10 First St. SE
Free (also other days and times through Dec. 6)
This small, curated display for National Native American Heritage Month honors creative work by Indigenous artists from various tribal nations. It highlights work promoted by the Indian Arts and Crafts Board in association with Native galleries and museums in 1970, and Plains Indian and Pacific Northwest painting and drawing, featuring the tradition of Ledger Art and the work of women artists.

Nov. 4, 3:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. Cooking Up History: Indigenous Food Knowledge & Healthy Ecosystems

American History Museum, Wallace H. Coulter Peformance Plaza, 1 Center
Free, but ticketed
Guest chef Mariah Gladstone (Blackfeet, Cherokee) will share how Indigenous growers and food practitioners are using ancestral foods and land management to sustain and strengthen their communities and their surrounding environments.

Nov. 4, 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. Celebrating Native Culture through Beadwork

The George Washington Museum and The Textile Museum
Free
Artist Melanie Bender (Choctaw/Apache), an artisan specializing in creating beaded jewelry, will be leading a beadwork demonstration at the GW and The Textile Museum. GW community members will be able to learn the significance of bead work in various Native cultures and create a product of their own!

Nov. 9, 7 p.m. to 8 p.m. The Public Square with Matika Wilbur

Martin Luther King Jr. Public Library
901 G St. NW
Free
Join the library for an exciting author talk with Matika Wilbur in recognition of Native American Heritage Month.

Nov. 10, 2 p.m. to 3 p.m. Dance and Drum Peformance from the Rappahannock Tribe Dancers

Kogan Plaza
Free
The Rappahannock Tribe of Virginia will allow members of the GW community to experience local Native culture for themselves by coming to perform traditional dances and a drum performance in Kogan Plaza. The event is free for all to come and watch!

Nov. 11, 10 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Honoring Native Veterans

American Indian Museum
Fourth Street SW
Free
Recognize and honor the military service of Native Americans on Veterans Day 2023. Events include family activities; a presentation about the National Native American Veterans Memorial by the memorial designer, Harvey Pratt (Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma), and curator Rebecca Trautmann; special hospitality for veterans; and a wreath-laying ceremony at the memorial, preceded by the presentation of colors by the Kiowa Black Leggings Warrior Society.

Nov. 13, 7 p.m. The Indigenous History of Thanksgiving with Professor Silverman

Phillips Hall 415
Free
GW Professor of Native history David Silverman will be joining us to discuss his book, “This Land Is Their Land: The Wampanoag Indians, Plymouth Colony, and the Troubled History of Thanksgiving,” and dispel misconceptions about the holiday.

Nov. 14, to Dec. 1 Acornucopia!

On View: 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. Monday through Friday (closed Nov. 20-26)
Panel Discussion 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m.
Gallery 102 Smith Hall of Art
801 22nd Street NW
Free
Social Practice graduate student Shawn Shafner presents an exhibition and series of public programs highlighting the multipurpose food source, the acorn! The exhibition offers a sensory wonderland of acorn experiences, interactive instructions for turning this ubiquitous nut into nutritious food, and invites audiences to aid in reforestation efforts by donating native acorns through our partner at Tomorrow’s Trees. Click here to learn about the upcoming Acornucopia! events and how to get involved.

Nov. 15, 1 p.m. to 1:30 p.m. Welcome to a Native Place

American Indian Museum
4th Street SW
Free
Enjoy tribal songs from Alaska to Florida with Dennis Zotigh (Kiowa/Isanti Dakota/Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo) in the Potomac Atrium. At the end of the 30-minute presentation, visitors are encouraged to ask questions pertaining to the museum and Indigenous culture, past and present.

Nov. 16, 6 p.m. Centering Indigeneity: A Talk with GW Alumni Robert Maxim and Kathy Baird

Multicultural Student Services Center
Free
Students for Indigenous and Native American Rights (SINAR) will moderate a discussion between Senior Research Associate at Brookings Metro Robert Maxim (Mashpee Wampanoag), and Kathy Baird (Sicangu Lakota/Oneida), chief communications officer at The Washington Post to discuss their experiences as Native students at GW and as professionals.

Nov. 18 11 a.m. Learning about Indigenous Peoples

Mt. Pleasant Public Library
3160 16th St. NW
Free
Celebrate Native American Heritage Month by learning about the First Nations Peoples[rm2]  who have always lived here. The library will have events and activities all afternoon: puppet shows, bean planting, a short lesson on the Piscataway people whose land we reside upon and a story time featuring books by Indigenous authors.

Nov. 18, 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. Nature Walk

Departs from Smith 102
Free
Participate in a nature walk with local forager Bohai Vasilopolous.

Nov. 24, 10:30 a.m. A Trip to the NMAI to Honor Jingle Dress

American Indian Museum
4th Street SW
Free
Celebrate Native American Heritage Day with us by joining Students for Indigenous and Native American Rights (SINAR) for a trip to the National Museum of the American Indian for their Honoring the Jingle Dress event. We will meet at the Foggy Bottom metro at 10:30 and head over to learn about the jingle dance and see some beautiful performances!

Nov. 29, 7 p.m. SINAR x FFS: Film Screening of “Lakota Nation vs. the United States”

University Student Center 307
Free
SINAR and the GW Foreign Film Society will be hosting a screening of the documentary “Lakota Nation vs. the United States.” Professor David Silverman will lead a discussion following the film regarding its contents and conflicts facing Indigenous people today.

Nov. 29 5:30 p.m. to 7 p.m. Acorns: From Forest to Food

Seva Teaching Kitchen
1810 K St. NW
Free
An acorn pancake tasting and a panel conversation about the cultural, culinary and ecological value of oak trees and their seeds.