What Photography Is
James Elkins
I have issues with this book. Although Elkins does a decent job explaining Roland Barthes's Camera Lucida, his book will not fully resonate if you have never read Barthes. I found the first couple chapters more annoying than informative. I understand that Elkins is trying to provide a thoughtful comparison and analysis with Barthes, but it just came across as whiny and self-indulgent.
The book becomes more interesting in the 3rd chapter, when Elkins begins to pick apart how to view photographs. He does this in a much different way than Barthes. Particularly, I liked the way he writes about the Punctum. Barthes believes the Punctum should be sought out, and the longer it takes the viewer to find it, the more important the Punctum is. Elkins completely disagrees, arguing that Punctum is not essential to photography because photography, as a tool, is used to physically document something objective. The Punctum is a subjective observation. Elkins wants his readers to understand that photography is a 2-dimensional product that doesn't require digging and searching for meaning.
Elkins encourages his readers to learn a new understanding of photography: photographs are more than what you know. Barthes's Punctum takes root in what we know... we see something recognizable, or something that resonates with us. I might see something different than other people, and that's ok (according to Barthes). Elkins argues that a lot of what we are seeing is not what we know. He says, “When photography is released from its obligation to forever show us ourselves, then what is it? When photography is no longer our engine of memory, our portal to the sublime, our record-keeper of choice?” He wants us to learn by "conceptual inaccessibility," as described with images of amoebas and other photomicrography. In this way, he's asking the readers to see photographs of by what we don't see. The photographs become documents of evidence, of science--no longer heart-felt connections with the objects in the photos, as Barthes describes.
__________
Why Art Cannot be Taught
James Elkins
I already believe that this book will be very important, not only for my understanding of the education I'm receiving, but also the ways in which I've been limited. I've been limited because I've been taught that the only way for me to fully pursue an interest in photography (and art in general) is to attain two degrees in the subject. I have no regrets, but James Elkins is convincing me that the education I receive[d] doesn't necessarily mean that I am well-versed in the area of study. For example, no where in my educational experience have I gone through the steps from Apprentice to Master, like those from the French Academy. Whose to say whether I am manipulating the system, testing well, and fooling the Masters, or whether I am actually learning the subject? I may earn a degree by giving myself to the cause financially, emotionally, and physically, but who decides if what I gained is what it should be?
In all seriousness, this book is simplifying my life because I am now able to relate my program to the outside world. This is something I've always struggled with: how my program is relatable to the rest of the world, because I often feel secluded from reality. Elkins is telling me, "Yes, you are secluded from the rest of the world despite what you've been told." I take comfort in this because now I don't feel the pressure to conform. I can adapt, but it's my choice. I will always have a community that does speak my language. I'm seeing language as more, and sometimes less, than words. The language in my program is an unspoken comrade that exists without maintenance.
_____________
The Education of the Un-Artist
Allan Kaprow
I think this is an important reading because most of us are trained artists. When I was younger, for me to be an artist, I knew I had to have an art degree. I had been trained to believe that I couldn't be an artist if I pursued other forms of education. Unfortunately, I feel like Kaprow's article is too optimistic in regards to a revolution that he hoped to ignite. Or perhaps the opposite: he merely stated and explained a problem that he already knows is hopeless.
Besides Kaprow's intentions in writing the piece, I felt a sense of relief in his words. I find that I put too much pressure on myself by making sure I strictly follow the rules of the system. This affects my art, too. I've been taught that my work needs to fit in a certain box. I feel a child-like joy in realizing that I'm being encouraged to explore the world outside that box. I'm now learning backwards, and it's really refreshing.
_____________________________________________
In Defense of the Poor Image
Hito Steyerl
This article was refreshing to read. With this year's presidential election and other important news coverage, I found this article so appropriate and relevant. The quote from section 3, "Poor images are poor because they are not assigned any value within the class society of images," explains that Poor Images cannot be categorized as "good" based on quality. However, these Poor Images fit into a whole new category of visual society, described as "popular images — images that can be seen by the many." This is important because as artists, we sometimes don't consider media circulation/social media/political propaganda as actual art, but that doesn't mean that they have no value to us. On the contrary, they have enormous value to us, and to everyone. This brings about an entirely new way of viewing images—a way in which value is not placed on image quality alone, but rather value that's placed on images because of their direct and intense impact on society. In some cases, Poor Images produce a greater effect than Good Images because Good Images don't always reach the masses. Steyerl's reading humbled me. I have learned not to discount an image based on quality, but to instead try to acknowledge the larger, more powerful effect it has.
______________________
Extracts from Camera Lucida
James Elkins
I have issues with this book. Although Elkins does a decent job explaining Roland Barthes's Camera Lucida, his book will not fully resonate if you have never read Barthes. I found the first couple chapters more annoying than informative. I understand that Elkins is trying to provide a thoughtful comparison and analysis with Barthes, but it just came across as whiny and self-indulgent.
The book becomes more interesting in the 3rd chapter, when Elkins begins to pick apart how to view photographs. He does this in a much different way than Barthes. Particularly, I liked the way he writes about the Punctum. Barthes believes the Punctum should be sought out, and the longer it takes the viewer to find it, the more important the Punctum is. Elkins completely disagrees, arguing that Punctum is not essential to photography because photography, as a tool, is used to physically document something objective. The Punctum is a subjective observation. Elkins wants his readers to understand that photography is a 2-dimensional product that doesn't require digging and searching for meaning.
Elkins encourages his readers to learn a new understanding of photography: photographs are more than what you know. Barthes's Punctum takes root in what we know... we see something recognizable, or something that resonates with us. I might see something different than other people, and that's ok (according to Barthes). Elkins argues that a lot of what we are seeing is not what we know. He says, “When photography is released from its obligation to forever show us ourselves, then what is it? When photography is no longer our engine of memory, our portal to the sublime, our record-keeper of choice?” He wants us to learn by "conceptual inaccessibility," as described with images of amoebas and other photomicrography. In this way, he's asking the readers to see photographs of by what we don't see. The photographs become documents of evidence, of science--no longer heart-felt connections with the objects in the photos, as Barthes describes.
__________
Why Art Cannot be Taught
James Elkins
I already believe that this book will be very important, not only for my understanding of the education I'm receiving, but also the ways in which I've been limited. I've been limited because I've been taught that the only way for me to fully pursue an interest in photography (and art in general) is to attain two degrees in the subject. I have no regrets, but James Elkins is convincing me that the education I receive[d] doesn't necessarily mean that I am well-versed in the area of study. For example, no where in my educational experience have I gone through the steps from Apprentice to Master, like those from the French Academy. Whose to say whether I am manipulating the system, testing well, and fooling the Masters, or whether I am actually learning the subject? I may earn a degree by giving myself to the cause financially, emotionally, and physically, but who decides if what I gained is what it should be?
In all seriousness, this book is simplifying my life because I am now able to relate my program to the outside world. This is something I've always struggled with: how my program is relatable to the rest of the world, because I often feel secluded from reality. Elkins is telling me, "Yes, you are secluded from the rest of the world despite what you've been told." I take comfort in this because now I don't feel the pressure to conform. I can adapt, but it's my choice. I will always have a community that does speak my language. I'm seeing language as more, and sometimes less, than words. The language in my program is an unspoken comrade that exists without maintenance.
_____________
The Education of the Un-Artist
Allan Kaprow
I think this is an important reading because most of us are trained artists. When I was younger, for me to be an artist, I knew I had to have an art degree. I had been trained to believe that I couldn't be an artist if I pursued other forms of education. Unfortunately, I feel like Kaprow's article is too optimistic in regards to a revolution that he hoped to ignite. Or perhaps the opposite: he merely stated and explained a problem that he already knows is hopeless.
Besides Kaprow's intentions in writing the piece, I felt a sense of relief in his words. I find that I put too much pressure on myself by making sure I strictly follow the rules of the system. This affects my art, too. I've been taught that my work needs to fit in a certain box. I feel a child-like joy in realizing that I'm being encouraged to explore the world outside that box. I'm now learning backwards, and it's really refreshing.
_____________________________________________
In Defense of the Poor Image
Hito Steyerl
This article was refreshing to read. With this year's presidential election and other important news coverage, I found this article so appropriate and relevant. The quote from section 3, "Poor images are poor because they are not assigned any value within the class society of images," explains that Poor Images cannot be categorized as "good" based on quality. However, these Poor Images fit into a whole new category of visual society, described as "popular images — images that can be seen by the many." This is important because as artists, we sometimes don't consider media circulation/social media/political propaganda as actual art, but that doesn't mean that they have no value to us. On the contrary, they have enormous value to us, and to everyone. This brings about an entirely new way of viewing images—a way in which value is not placed on image quality alone, but rather value that's placed on images because of their direct and intense impact on society. In some cases, Poor Images produce a greater effect than Good Images because Good Images don't always reach the masses. Steyerl's reading humbled me. I have learned not to discount an image based on quality, but to instead try to acknowledge the larger, more powerful effect it has.
______________________
Extracts from Camera Lucida
Roland Barthes
I find this essay to be very important because it’s accessible to an audience other than that of trained photographers. I often find myself unable to remember what life was like before I understood what photographs are and how they’re made. Roland Barthes took me with him to explore the foundations of photographic moments. How refreshing it was to read about photography from the perspective of the subject rather than from the perspective of a photographer.
I felt instantly renewed when reading Barthes’ words. I was reminded of why photography holds a special place in my heart. From section 2, he writes, “What the Photograph reproduces to infinity has occurred only once: the Photograph mechanically repeats what could never be repeated existentially.” He is right—the camera possesses such a sense of power by being able to steal away moments and never return them. I am reminded that no other art medium can do this, at least not as quickly. Hence, ‘the return of the dead.’ Once the shutter opens, then closes, the subject/moment/event dies. But the physicality of the negative or print allows that moment to surface again: a rebirth, return of the dead.
Section 5, “I don’t know how to work upon my skin from within.” What a beautiful phrase. Barthes describes the discomfort of being the subject, being in front of the camera, and not being what will be represented in a photograph. This is a powerful revelation for photographers. It enables a sense of delicacy, intimacy, and fragility in viewing subjects as vulnerable beings who sacrifice comfort for the sake of a photographer’s obsession with pushing a button.
I want to move on to section 10, distinguishing studium from punctum. I feel like I’ve known this all along, but have never been able to organize photos into two distinct categories quite as successfully as Barthes has done. I was taught the difference between a photo and a “good photo.” I was taught to “find the cigar, find the cherry pie, find the thing.” Barthes reassures me that there is a difference between a photo that is purely descriptive (studium) and a photo that is descriptive and impactful (punctum). This is where I really connect with Barthes. I constantly search for the punctum. I want to shock my audience.
I will finish with an analysis of the last line in the reading: the impossible science of the unique being. What Barthes is trying to say is that photographs rarely describe someone fully, because photographs are never actually that person. Photography is half-science, i.e. the science of light-sensitive particles reacting to specific amounts of light and forming in patterns depicting an image of the scene where you pointed the camera. Knowing that photography is a documentation made by science, the act of confiscating a person by “taking her picture” is never possible. You cannot hold someone captive, make her yours, or keep her forever by taking her photograph. From using a camera (science), the object produced will never actually be that of a human being, and certainly never of a specific and unique being.
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Towards a Philosophy of Photography
Vilém Flusser
My brain is mushy, but I will try to articulate a meaningful response. I did a pretty good job of following the reading and understanding most of what’s written, I think.
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It’s necessary to find and define the roots of photography—as merely a surface, an image. That picture is not, in fact, my cat. It is only a surface. If I take a picture of your mom and her head is cut off, I did not behead her. Instead, I manipulated the apparatus (camera), and chose what to include on the surface and what to exclude. Knowing how the apparatus works, I can use the camera as was designed and make a correct exposure. I can learn the program.
I particularly identified with the idea that the functionnaire dominates the apparatus. This is a powerful statement. An image made by a functionnaire is different than an image made by a non-functionnaire (snap-shooter?). Snap-shooters are like slaves to the program: they obey the boundaries of the apparatus. Functionnaires push the boundaries of the machine and manipulate an image. Does the image made by a snap-shooter differ from that made by a functionnaire? An image made by a snap-shooter doesn’t have soul because the user of the apparatus doesn’t realize he’s in complete control. He believes the apparatus is in control. A functionnaire knows his power, and thus exploits his power.
Since photographers are seen as hunters, images are prey. A snap-shooter doesn’t search for his prey the way functionnaires do. Functionnaires sneak, hide, and wait for their prey. Snap-shooters stand in an open field and shoot the first thing that crosses their paths. They are not picky. Functionnaires are decisive, intentional, and patient. Although both might end up with prizes, snap-shooters’ prizes are smaller and less valuable.
As the controller of your apparatus, you have three options prior to making an image.
1) You are rolling dice. Whatever happens, happens. An image is a result of luck and chance. 2) You are playing chess. Each move you make follows a predestined path. If I move the Rook, I know it will move in this way, in this specific direction. 3) You are a functionnaire. You set your own path. I should move this way, but I’m going to go the other way.
1) You are rolling dice. Whatever happens, happens. An image is a result of luck and chance. 2) You are playing chess. Each move you make follows a predestined path. If I move the Rook, I know it will move in this way, in this specific direction. 3) You are a functionnaire. You set your own path. I should move this way, but I’m going to go the other way.
So, in conclusion, making an image is a game. The result of the game is of your choosing, if you choose.
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