I've always subscribed to the belief that every photograph is a self-portrait, but I agree that even this is simplistic. Every time the brain recalls a memory, it overwrites it with a new story - and it's the promise of veracity that makes the medium so powerful. We often use it as proof of what we can't perfectly recall. "But perhaps we are the ones who don't understand..." Oof. I'll be thinking about this one all day. xx
Hello Erica, thank you for such a profound reflection! I love your point about every photograph being a self-portrait. That adds another layer to the complexity, doesn't it? The idea of memory overwriting itself is fascinating, and you're so right – it's the promise of veracity that gives photography its power. It's that tension between truth and construction that makes it so compelling. I'm glad this quote resonated with you too. What are your thoughts on how this 'misunderstanding' plays out in different genres of photography, like documentary vs. fine art?
Agree with your comment about our brains being unreliable narrators. I remember reading an article by someone in the know (neuroscientist I think?) who said your brain is not like a filing cabinet where you go and pull out memories as needed. Instead, it is creating them anew. Over time, these memories can drift. There are memories that I had carried for decades that I viewed as completely accurate until I saw a photograph that showed how far from reality my memories really were.
Wow, Tom, that's a mind-blowing way to think about memory! I've definitely had those moments where a photo throws my recollection into disarray. It's almost like a photographic intervention with our personal narratives! 😉 It makes you wonder what's 'real,' doesn't it? If you can remember, could you share the link to that article? I'd love to read more about it.
From the article, it does not look like there is a consensus in the scientific community on this subject. The article was written 15 years ago, so I’m curious as to how research and opinions have evolved since then.
I’d make a distinction between the camera and a photograph. I’m mostly with Seto san that the camera doesn’t lie (though if you’re using junky equipment like I usually do, this introduces a distortion from the get go). But the final photo can be almost anything. When I was younger, I remember seeing that Diane Arbus photo of the kid with the grenade and think holy moly, she caught something crazy there. Then, many years later I saw the contact sheet of a regular kid in the park who starts taking these stranger poses (encouraged by the photographer?) before ending with one grasping hand and one hand with a grenade.
Thanks for adding that perspective, Tom! The Arbus anecdote is chilling, and it perfectly illustrates how we, the viewers, can be 'misled' by the photograph, even if the camera itself captured something 'real.' It almost feels like Seto-san's quote is a warning: 'Don't blindly trust what you see.' It's a powerful reminder that we need to approach photographs with a critical eye, acknowledging the layers of interpretation and the photographer's influence. 👀
The charm of photography is the latency of the imaginary that it contains.
In photography, it is not only the photographer's experience that contributes to creating the immense part under the tip of the iceberg. There is also the observer experience; there is the presence and absence of the photographed subject; there is the fundamental role of the camera as a technology; increasingly decisive, there is the complex system of sharing and disseminating images; there is the spirit of the time in which we live. All these universes intertwined with each other are active parts in the constitution of a photograph.
As human beings we do not know what reality is in its totality, so it is extremely difficult to speak of truth. Human beings see the world through their limits. The camera is a human technology, how could it be able to see reality in its totality? I agree that the camera never lies. But not in relation to reality itself. It does not lie to ourselves.
I believe that photography is something that has more to do with a footprint, a passage between people and the world. I like this definition of photography by Umberto Eco: “Photography is not a form of sign. Photography is nothing but a matter of expression.”
Your comment is so insightful, particularly your point about the limits of human perception, Simone. It's a humbling reminder that we can never truly grasp 'reality in its totality.' And you're right, the camera, being a human creation, inherits those limitations. This makes the question of photography's 'truth' even more slippery, doesn't it? If we can't fully know reality, how can we definitively say what a photograph reveals or conceals? 🧐
It’s a statement that is both true and false at the same time. Which is beautiful. The question of truth has always been a conundrum. What I find works for me, is that the truth in all photographs exists beyond the border: what we choose not to show. In that process of elimination, subjective always, that is an empirical act and it cannot lie. Everything else, what is captured, is wonderful discourse.
Thanks for your thoughts, David! You've nailed it – the question of truth in photography is a conundrum. It's this beautiful and frustrating paradox! I agree that the photographer's subjective choices are undeniable, but I also see the allure of believing in the camera's empirical record. Do you think this tension is what makes photography such a compelling art form? The constant push and pull between objective and subjective?
I used to think that it was a medium that merely documented. I remember being aggrieved, back in the day of film, when I read that a certain 'documentary photo' that I valued, had been affected by the photographer in the taking of it. I realised then that the form I was falling in love with could be easily manipulated. In the years following, I was drawn into the works of people like Lucas Samaras and Cindy Sherman, these photographers/artists clearly constructed their own truths. I have since been caught between these two worlds; of people like Diane Arbus and Joel Peter Witkin. Within that disparity, I see and feel the tension that is ever present in photography (or possibly just my own work?).
Today, with the advent of AI, we're seeing another level of manipulation. The tension increases. The discourse widens. The creative possibilities expand.
To explore an artist's work is a journey, to not merely be seduced by pretty pictures. The allure, for me at least, is less about the past, and more the present, in both aesthetic terms and artist intentions. And that in itself creates a tension.
Very interesting questions and many interesting responses already here in the comments. I agree that the camera doesnt lie, and I thi k that is also true of the photograph. What is in the photo has to have, to some extent, been there. The question of who is interpreting the photo is something else, and this is the 'we who misundstand" perhaps. I think one thing's that strikes me is that the photographer is very often also the viewer of the photograph. Given the fallibility of memory and it's dynamic construction, what happens when we view a photo of an event that exists on our memory? Does this act correct the memory, resetting it as it were? Or does the memory change how we see the photograph, do we interpret the photograph differently based on how much our memory has changed of that event? I don't have answers but I think this neatly helps of think about interpretation and the "lie" of photography. If the photographer viewing their own photograph can be influenced, what of others? They might have less context about the photograph, but they bring their own worldview. Is their view shaped by the photograph or vice versa? Or perhaps both? Certainly something I'll think about after reading this.
I've always subscribed to the belief that every photograph is a self-portrait, but I agree that even this is simplistic. Every time the brain recalls a memory, it overwrites it with a new story - and it's the promise of veracity that makes the medium so powerful. We often use it as proof of what we can't perfectly recall. "But perhaps we are the ones who don't understand..." Oof. I'll be thinking about this one all day. xx
Hello Erica, thank you for such a profound reflection! I love your point about every photograph being a self-portrait. That adds another layer to the complexity, doesn't it? The idea of memory overwriting itself is fascinating, and you're so right – it's the promise of veracity that gives photography its power. It's that tension between truth and construction that makes it so compelling. I'm glad this quote resonated with you too. What are your thoughts on how this 'misunderstanding' plays out in different genres of photography, like documentary vs. fine art?
Agree with your comment about our brains being unreliable narrators. I remember reading an article by someone in the know (neuroscientist I think?) who said your brain is not like a filing cabinet where you go and pull out memories as needed. Instead, it is creating them anew. Over time, these memories can drift. There are memories that I had carried for decades that I viewed as completely accurate until I saw a photograph that showed how far from reality my memories really were.
Wow, Tom, that's a mind-blowing way to think about memory! I've definitely had those moments where a photo throws my recollection into disarray. It's almost like a photographic intervention with our personal narratives! 😉 It makes you wonder what's 'real,' doesn't it? If you can remember, could you share the link to that article? I'd love to read more about it.
Hi Anne, I think this is the article I was thinking of.
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/how-our-brains-make-memories-14466850/
From the article, it does not look like there is a consensus in the scientific community on this subject. The article was written 15 years ago, so I’m curious as to how research and opinions have evolved since then.
I’d make a distinction between the camera and a photograph. I’m mostly with Seto san that the camera doesn’t lie (though if you’re using junky equipment like I usually do, this introduces a distortion from the get go). But the final photo can be almost anything. When I was younger, I remember seeing that Diane Arbus photo of the kid with the grenade and think holy moly, she caught something crazy there. Then, many years later I saw the contact sheet of a regular kid in the park who starts taking these stranger poses (encouraged by the photographer?) before ending with one grasping hand and one hand with a grenade.
Thanks for adding that perspective, Tom! The Arbus anecdote is chilling, and it perfectly illustrates how we, the viewers, can be 'misled' by the photograph, even if the camera itself captured something 'real.' It almost feels like Seto-san's quote is a warning: 'Don't blindly trust what you see.' It's a powerful reminder that we need to approach photographs with a critical eye, acknowledging the layers of interpretation and the photographer's influence. 👀
Right on!
Interesting questions.
The charm of photography is the latency of the imaginary that it contains.
In photography, it is not only the photographer's experience that contributes to creating the immense part under the tip of the iceberg. There is also the observer experience; there is the presence and absence of the photographed subject; there is the fundamental role of the camera as a technology; increasingly decisive, there is the complex system of sharing and disseminating images; there is the spirit of the time in which we live. All these universes intertwined with each other are active parts in the constitution of a photograph.
As human beings we do not know what reality is in its totality, so it is extremely difficult to speak of truth. Human beings see the world through their limits. The camera is a human technology, how could it be able to see reality in its totality? I agree that the camera never lies. But not in relation to reality itself. It does not lie to ourselves.
I believe that photography is something that has more to do with a footprint, a passage between people and the world. I like this definition of photography by Umberto Eco: “Photography is not a form of sign. Photography is nothing but a matter of expression.”
Your comment is so insightful, particularly your point about the limits of human perception, Simone. It's a humbling reminder that we can never truly grasp 'reality in its totality.' And you're right, the camera, being a human creation, inherits those limitations. This makes the question of photography's 'truth' even more slippery, doesn't it? If we can't fully know reality, how can we definitively say what a photograph reveals or conceals? 🧐
It’s a statement that is both true and false at the same time. Which is beautiful. The question of truth has always been a conundrum. What I find works for me, is that the truth in all photographs exists beyond the border: what we choose not to show. In that process of elimination, subjective always, that is an empirical act and it cannot lie. Everything else, what is captured, is wonderful discourse.
Thanks for your thoughts, David! You've nailed it – the question of truth in photography is a conundrum. It's this beautiful and frustrating paradox! I agree that the photographer's subjective choices are undeniable, but I also see the allure of believing in the camera's empirical record. Do you think this tension is what makes photography such a compelling art form? The constant push and pull between objective and subjective?
I used to think that it was a medium that merely documented. I remember being aggrieved, back in the day of film, when I read that a certain 'documentary photo' that I valued, had been affected by the photographer in the taking of it. I realised then that the form I was falling in love with could be easily manipulated. In the years following, I was drawn into the works of people like Lucas Samaras and Cindy Sherman, these photographers/artists clearly constructed their own truths. I have since been caught between these two worlds; of people like Diane Arbus and Joel Peter Witkin. Within that disparity, I see and feel the tension that is ever present in photography (or possibly just my own work?).
Today, with the advent of AI, we're seeing another level of manipulation. The tension increases. The discourse widens. The creative possibilities expand.
To explore an artist's work is a journey, to not merely be seduced by pretty pictures. The allure, for me at least, is less about the past, and more the present, in both aesthetic terms and artist intentions. And that in itself creates a tension.
Very interesting questions and many interesting responses already here in the comments. I agree that the camera doesnt lie, and I thi k that is also true of the photograph. What is in the photo has to have, to some extent, been there. The question of who is interpreting the photo is something else, and this is the 'we who misundstand" perhaps. I think one thing's that strikes me is that the photographer is very often also the viewer of the photograph. Given the fallibility of memory and it's dynamic construction, what happens when we view a photo of an event that exists on our memory? Does this act correct the memory, resetting it as it were? Or does the memory change how we see the photograph, do we interpret the photograph differently based on how much our memory has changed of that event? I don't have answers but I think this neatly helps of think about interpretation and the "lie" of photography. If the photographer viewing their own photograph can be influenced, what of others? They might have less context about the photograph, but they bring their own worldview. Is their view shaped by the photograph or vice versa? Or perhaps both? Certainly something I'll think about after reading this.