And this is not something new. I recall reading that Don McCullin was quite open about the fact that he had laid out some of the young fighter’s personal effects when he created this famous image, because he wanted them to be seen. After all, do they not add a great deal to how we process the scene?
Fallen North Vietnamese Soldier – Don McCullin
What we know for certain is that photojournalism, the great bastion of photographic integrity, is littered with examples of perception manipulation (which after all, is why the photos are taken in the first place). So, if photojournalism is best approached with an open mind (and recognizing the many factors degrading true objectivity) is there any point in worrying about fidelity in other areas of photography that are more often associated with art?
Garry Winogrand, a photographer who has been in my thoughts a lot lately, touches upon this beautifully in his seemingly obtuse declaration that he photographed ‘to see what things look like when photographed’. He absolutely refused to be drawn on what he was photographing… what actually happened or what things are, because he thought this was so open to question and subjectivity as to be impossible to discuss meaningfully. So, while superficially many of his images appear relatively straight photographs (no Photoshop, obviously!), we do not know the truth behind what he was actually photographing. He did not care, so why should we?
Photo by Garry Winogrand
With Winogrand, there is no absolute truth that you, as the viewer, are supposed to arrive at and ‘get’. The photograph becomes whatever you want it to and this has inherent appeal.
We can approach this from another perspective too: do we go to see exhibitions of photographs or exhibitions of a photographer, illustrated by photographs? Usually, I feel it is the latter. If we removed the subjective, deliberate human photographer/editor, would we still be interested? In most cases, I think not. This only goes to show that our interest does indeed lie in the ‘other’ and that the work is just a bridge. If this is the case, we can do whatever we want and know that doing so is just fine, as long as (just as with Hollywood stars and cosmetic surgery) we don’t lie about it!
Personally, I agree with the idea that arts are an expression and exploration of the uniqueness of consciousness, the inherent singularity we are therefore aware of and are constantly striving to escape from. Are we not like children in a boarding school, sent to bed at a fixed time, but delighting in short escapes into other dorms, if only to spend a few minutes crouched beside the bed of another, before sneaking back to their own? I believe so. I think we explore creatively to escape from our isolation within our physical selves and to enjoy that blissful, brief moment of perfect, deeply shared companionship. We could use the same words to describe love. Perhaps both take us to the same place; somewhere shared at a level that transcends any words I can possibly find… the opposite of singularity and loneliness…. where individuals have moments of perfect miscibility. Yes, photography and love make perfect bedfellows: in neither case is fidelity an end of in itself; strong feelings and recognition of their inherent subjectivity should always come first.
There’s quite an extensive discussion about the photographs taken after the very sad shooting of 15 year old Fabienne Cherisma here: http://prisonphotography.org/2011/05/14/a-photo-of-fabienne-cherisma-by-another-photographer-wins-another-award/
Reading the discussion has left me rather shaken. It’s naïve of me, I know, but I’ve always been inclined to see reportage photos as ‘objective’ somehow even though I know rationally that they’re not.
Very much enjoyed reading this post, and several others of yours today, since discovering your blog.
If I can make a comment: You ask if “we go to see exhibitions of photographs or exhibitions of a photographer, illustrated by photographs”. While you suggest the latter, I would say mostly the former. It is the work that evokes in me a tonality of emotions that differ from my regular ways of being – that put me in a different dorm to use your analogy. I am far from sure that I know all that much about the photographer’s consciousness when I respond to their work. I suspect that the work allows me at best to escape my habitual ways of being and to draw from other parts of the human psyche that I usually leave dormant. I wonder if what I experience when I respond to work is constellated by my own projections at least as much as it is by me resonating with another. In other words, the work is a catalyst for experiencing in a different way, rather than a line of communication or connection to the photographer.
I guess what follows from this is the notion that we can be brought together not by attempting to communicate anything in particular, but by being convinced that, when we see each other respond to work, this means we are all made of the same human stuff.
Gosh that was rather tortured and convoluted, but it is getting late and I wanted to respect your post with a response.
Thanks George – an enjoyable comment to read and thanks for taking the time to write it!
I’m not sure what I would do without photography as a means to share that ‘human stuff’ you refer to. I think I’d have to find a way to write books, read more of them and spend more time watching great films.