Henry Bricker
May 15, 2013
Investigations into the ontology of
photography almost always include an analysis of the fundamental interaction
that exists between a photograph, time, and memory. French semiologist Roland
Barthes was one of the first theorists to discuss these ideas in his book Camera Lucida. He argued that
photograph’s are not just the “image” they appear to be; they reveal a deeper secondary meaning of
mortality unique to every observer. However, contemporary film theorist Damian
Sutton sought to challenge Barthes’ traditional classification of photography.
Sutton’s definition of a photograph is more ambiguous than Barthes’s; he claims
that a photograph is not an object but rather an idea that is used “in an
exchange with the larger, wider, greater images of culture and history” (Sutton
157). By integrating Barthes’s and Sutton’s contrasting arguments, I’ll analyze
my own photos to gain a complete understanding of a photograph.
Sutton asserts that viewing a photograph as an “idea” allows
for “a different way of seeing the photograph, a way that would allow me to
peel back the surface of the image, to reveal the world of images seen beyond
it” (Sutton x). In a way, Sutton’s statement correlates with Barthes’ analysis
on how to view a “mythological” photograph. The real purpose of a photograph,
Barthes claims, is “always invisible: it is not that we see” (Barthes 6). The
first level of a picture is comprised of its obvious physical aspects, whereas
the second level contains hidden cultural, historical, and political meaning. When
looking at a picture these two levels materialize as the studium, the “general,
enthusiastic commitment” of a photograph, which arises culturally from
“political testimony” or “good historical scenes” (Barthes 26). Sutton’s
description comes to fruition through the different mythological meanings that
Barthes presents. The different meanings are themselves a “world of images”
beyond the actual photograph.
I took this photograph inside Soldier Field in Chicago on
Veterans Day in 2012. The picture takes place before a Chicago Bears football
game and there is a large red, white, and blue flag in the center of the field.
On the outside, that is all this photograph is. However, the “ideas” or
secondary meanings of the photo are more significant and numerous. The flag
suggests that this is a picture of national American pride. Soldier Field
serves as a monument for all members of US armed forces, which is a picture of
American values. The vast number of people in the stadium and around the flag
is a picture of the role that sports has in society. These and the many other
meanings that the photograph encompasses are all part of the “world of images”
beyond the literal photograph.
However, according to Barthes, the various meanings or
images a person derives from a photograph are not what they actually remember
about its subject. Barthes claims that in addition to the studium, photographs
have a punctum that can alter a person’s memory. The punctum is not something
intentional by the photographer, “it is this element which rises from the scene,
shoots out of it like an arrow, and pierces me” (Barthes 26). This violent
process captures the spectator’s attention and becomes all they can focus on,
thereby altering their original memory of the photographic scene and unmasking
what really occurred. Sutton disregards the idea that there is a fixed interpretation
of a photograph, which he describes as being “cells of time” (Sutton 58). Rather
than the punctum transforming a person’s memory of the past, it is a part
of “the flourishing of past and future
from the image” (Sutton, 89). As a basis for his argument, Sutton analyzes the
film Memento, which shows that
“photography does not reveal memory’s truth…or better yet, memory is the
photography of immemory” (Sutton 217-219). Therefore, viewing a photograph is a
fluid process that does not necessarily break down memory, but rather adds to
it.
This is a photograph of me while on a service trip in Ghana
during the summer of 2011. In this picture, I am shoveling sand at a school with
another girl from the trip and with several Ghanaian students. I feel like I
remember that moment particularly well. It was a long, hot day and my job was
to collaborate with the local kids and move all the sand in order to make new
cement for the school. But my personal punctum of this photograph contradicts
my memory: the group of Ghanaian kids standing in the background watching me.
If I read this image like Barthes, it isn’t a picture of collaboration like I
remember; it is a picture of racial division between white America and
third-world Africa. I get an uncomfortable feeling as I tower over them,
unaware of their daily problems that I likely will not solve by moving sand. On
the other hand, when I use Sutton’s analysis this new notion does not have to
totally replace my memory and instead develops it. My memory of the past is
still accurate and I add to it by acknowledging the present punctum, which
together I can use to critically think about situations in the future.
Sutton’s argument of memory also takes priority when
considering modern-day digitally enhanced or altered photography. For example,
this picture of a field in southern Illinois diminishes the significance of its
punctum, which is the dark, barren, and lonely tree in the photograph. The black
and white effect used on this picture makes it appear as if the tree is part of
a lifeless landscape and perhaps an environmental argument about the decay of
life. However, I know that tall grass and blooming flowers filled the field.
While the “fantasies” that photographs can portray are not ideal reflecting
mirrors of the world, they provide an idea of the future, as does this
picture’s punctum. At some point in time, this field is likely to die and look
like this picture. Combining the image’s past and future creates a new and more
complete memory.
Barthes explains this paradox of time in photography, the
effect of death on the past and future, in Camera
Lucida. Because photographs freeze time of what no longer exists, he claims
that in every photograph there is “the return of the dead” (Barthes 9). When
spectators view a picture, not only do they see what “has been”, but also what
“will be”. Barthes calls this process of visualizing the “future which death is
the sake” the second punctum, or stigmatum (Barthes 96). Reflecting back on the
landscape photo, in addition to the lifeless future it portrays, it also shows
the dead past, or a time that no longer exists.
Attempting to move beyond Barthes’ classic photographic
ideas of death and frozen time, Sutton describes the photograph as a “crystal” and
“virtual” image. Sutton credits French philosopher Gilles Deleuze as having
first introduced this concept “to uncover or reveal the vertigo of photography,
the dialectic of remembering and forgetting” (Sutton 213). Sutton argues that when
a spectator looks at the original photograph, a multitude of other images,
memories, and fantasies illuminate for that person beyond the actual image.
These other abstract recollections tell an additional “narrative of which [the
photo] is a part and that projects backward and forward in time around it” (Sutton
154). Unlike Barthes’s singular, frozen, and morbid understanding of a
photograph, the crystal image is constantly changing and evolving for the
viewer.
This photograph of my grandfather and I sitting on a
front porch was taken in 1996 when I was just two years old. Although I do not
have any concrete memories of this time, seeing this picture provokes many
other feelings. My first thought directly related to Barthes’ second punctum:
seventeen years have passed since this moment existed; the last seventeen years
of my life are dead. Thinking about how quickly time passes by was a very
sobering realization for me. My next thought brought me back to the present
with my grandfather. The man in this picture is not the man I now know. My
grandfather has aged and is less healthy today than he was in this photograph. We
still share moments of happiness, but rarely do we connect to the degree that it
appears we are in this picture. I then thought about the future, which holds my
grandfather’s and my own death. However, after putting aside this initial
reaction, the virtual image Sutton described illuminated. I started thinking of
happier moments that reflected the strength of my family and about my
grandfather’s remarkable past that led him to this picture. Each day I see this
picture the specific moments I recall vary, but when considering those memories
in addition to the stigmatum, I gained a total understanding of the photograph.
Like the picture of my grandpa and I, this photo
expresses a unique connection between the past and future. I took this picture
after my high school’s basketball team won the sectional championship during my
senior year. At that time, cutting down the nets felt like a significant moment
of my senior year. Yet, when I reflect back now, it was not a very memorable
event. Nevertheless, when I think about the high school period of my life, this
is always one of the first images that comes to mind. This picture reminds me about
how much has changed since this basketball game only a year ago (the dead
past), but even more so about the endless possibilities of the future. While
Barthes’ theory exists in every photograph because of the fact that they
portray the past, this picture brings to life the “dream images and
recollection images” that exemplify Sutton’s virtual image (Sutton 153).
While the majority of Sutton’s ideas counter Barthes’,
the two intersect in regards to Barthes’ Winter
Garden photograph. This picture focuses on Barthes’ mom as a child standing
awkwardly in a greenhouse. What makes this image different from all others is
that it allowed Barthes to “rediscover” his mother (Barthes 69). Although the
photograph no longer physically resembles a woman who is now deceased, his
mother’s childhood innocence reflected the same innocence she had as an old
woman unable to take care of herself. Rather than a photograph expressing the
dead, this photo’s subject made it very much alive. Barthes calls this
“unanalyzable” something the “air”. The air links Barthes’ actual image and
Sutton’s virtual, creating “an eternal potentiality that extends into a future
made up of passing presents and of making up pasts” (Sutton 158).
This is another picture from my trip Ghana. A group of
students had previously performed a “welcoming” dance for us and posed afterwards
for a portrait. According to Barthes, portraits are similar to the stigmatum
because they objectify the subject. “Myself never coincides with my image,”
Barthes explains, “I then experience a micro-version of death” (Barthes 14). Although
this photo is not a self-portrait, it has the opposite effect for me that
Barthes describes. First, the culture these kids grew up in is not centered
around photography like ours and posing for a picture is likely a cherished
experience. The student’s faces and various expressions also reflect the mutual
fulfillment we shared after meeting one another and bring this photo to life. In
addition, when I see these kids I think about where they are today, not about
the depressing past. This picture is one of the few I found to posses the “air”.
Another portrait taken of my mom and myself as a baby
also has a magical “air” quality. This photo clearly displays a strong
connection and sense of happiness I have with my mom, something we still share
today. The “air” comes from my childhood innocence, similar to the Winter Garden photograph. As a baby I
did not know what a camera was, so the emotions I am displaying in this picture
are more honest. This connection between the past and present again makes me
think of the future, and how the relationship with my mom will grow.
In conclusion, all photograph share a frightening
connection with the past. Barthes describes this as “that rather terrible thing
which is there in every photograph: the return of the dead” (Barthes 9). However,
photos also contain a “world of other images” that are part of a “flourishing
future” (Sutton 89). Sutton introduced the concept of the “crystal image” to
counter Barthes’ popular theories. But through my analysis of my pictures, both
authors ideas exist in photography and a complete understanding can’t be formed
without taking both into consideration.
Works Cited
Sutton, Damian. Photography,
Cinema, Memory: The Crystal Image of Time.
Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota, 2009. Print.
Barthes, Roland.
Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. New York: Hill and
Wang, 1981. Print.
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