Monday, 1 September 2014

Roland Barthes Camera Lucida


There is no doubt in my mind that I will need to read this book again, if I am even to begin to get to grips with it.  It’s no secret, I’m sure, this is an incredibly difficult book to take in and I certainly found it so.  However, I read it relatively slowly and tried to absorb each of the chapters as much as I could before moving on. 

I think that although the book is challenging, Roland Barthes does give the reader a bit of a roadmap during the first quarter of the book, detailing what he is aiming to explore – what exactly is a photograph and why are some photographs important either culturally at large or to individuals. This roadmap comes in the shape of specific language, which he uses to describe himself as accurately as possible.  As you work your way through the beginning of the book his discourse is difficult to penetrate but once you've absorbed the meaning of the following terms you are helped somewhat.

Studium – studied cultural details and elements in a photograph.  That which we recognize and rationalise .

Punctum – a word that describes the impact of a photographed scene that “shoots out of it like an arrow” or a “sting, speck, cut, little hole”. [1] This second word describes how a photograph works at a deeper level than the culture we see and which we recognize.  “Punctum… is that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me)”[2]

He also describes the various contributors to the making of a photograph – the Operator (camera person), Spectator (viewer of the photograph) and then the Spectrum which is the subject, be it person, object, place or mood/atmosphere. 

It is at this point that Barthes introduces the subject of death and how everything that photographed is essentially dead once it’s been captured: “this word (spectacle) retains through it’s root, a ‘relation’ to spectacle and adds to it that rather terrible thing which is there in every photograph: the return of the dead.”[3]
Being that this book is about facing death, the death of his mother and subsequently the notion of his own death, Barthes returns to this theme throughout the book. And I will too later in this blog.

I understand that in my above adumbrated version of Barthes’ work I have attempted to condense some very complex ideas, and that I probably really only have a fairly superficial understanding at this point but I hope I’m heading in the right direction.

There are several pivotal points for me in the book.  In particular when discussing the methods by which the Operator (photographers) create their work which aim to surprise the Spectator he lists various methods for doing so.  One of these methods is when photographers use “contortions of technique: superimpressions, anamorphoses[4], deliberate exploitation, of certain defects (blurring, deceptive perspectives, trick framing).”[5] 

I mention this as I am interested in blurring and motion.  The punctum which Barthes speaks of is often more readily accessible to me in some of this type of photography, however, he is fairly dismissive of it even though he concedes that there are some very accomplished photographers using these contortions. “…great photographers have played on these surprises, without convincing me, even if I understand their subversive bearing”. [6]  I have felt quite conflicted since reading this and agree with him one moment, believing I should focus on getting ‘real photography’ right rather than being distracted by my desire to blur with long shutter speeds on my camera or fiddle for hours with my iphone (using the Snapseed app for instance to distort and paint and create little scenes that remind me of something very dreamlike and sort of internally ancient and linked more to our unconscious inner worlds) and then swing the other way, wondering if I should just allow myself to really enjoy that side of photography – since I do so enjoy it.  I’m sure there is time for both if I think rationally about it but I have an inner nasty parent saying – ‘Stop that, silly stuff!’ 

(This conflict has led to me wonder if there is Photography Art as opposed to Art where photography is the medium.  I shall have to explain this in more detail elsewhere I think as this entry is really about Barthes’ book.)

Earlier I mentioned that Barthes discusses the relationship between death and photography throughout this book which is hardly surprising as he was prompted to write it when grieving for his late mother whom he had lived with all his life.  He felt her loss deeply and as one does when a loved one dies looked for some connection in photographs.  He found something of what he was looking for in a photograph of his mother as a child where he believes he saw her essence even though she was very young and not the adult he had always known. 

During the last section of the book Barthes describes powerfully how we react to photographs, and how we relate to the truth in every photograph, which is the ‘catastrophe’ of inevitable death.  “…the photograph tells me death in the future.  What pricks me is the discovery of this equivalence.  In front of the photograph of my mother as a child, I tell myself: she is going to die: I shudder, like Winnicots psychotic patient, over a catastrophe which has already occurred.  Whether or not the subject is already dead, every photograph is this catastrophe.”[7]

I clearly remember my horrific realisation when my first son was about a year old that he would, if he is lucky enough to have a full life, grow old and one day die.  And that it is very unlikely that I should be there with him, if all goes well with his life that is, so that he would be without me at that time.  It was a heartbreaking realization, and one we humans could not or should not dwell on as we go about our day to day.  I think Barthes is discussing how photographs have the potential and ability to punch this realization into our consciousness when we look at them in happy times.  And, of course, when we look at them in times of grief can bellow that reality back at us.  Death is unavoidable.

“It is because each photograph always contains this imperious sign of my future death each one, however attached it seems to be to the excited world of the living, challenges us, one by one outside of any generality.”[8]

Barthes often refers to the photograph as a performance.  In fact he likens photography to theatre; “Photography is a kind of primitive theatre, a kind of Tableaux Vivant, a figuration of the motionless and made up face beneath which we see the dead”[9], and this is a very encouraging for me.  I would like to think I can and should use photography to create my own little theatrical moments.   I am torn between photographing others and photographing myself as an ‘actor’ in a still tiny moment that is nevertheless a drama of sorts.  I must look at Cindy Sherman’s work more as she is the most obvious example I can think of in relation to this sort of work, although am also reminded of Jessa Fairbrother, whose work was recommended to me by my tutor.

Roland Barthes’ book was not an easy read but it was intensely interesting and valuable.  I am left once again with a sense of deep frustration that I haven’t read Sartre or Nietzsche, or a host of others not even mentioned in the Barthes book.  It is so annoying to be so ignorant.  I can put all these people on my very long list of books to read but who knows when I will get to them.  However, it does make me wonder if I would enjoy Understanding Visual Cultureperhaps later on if I continue with these studies, as I have been following someone’s blog who is doing that module.  It looks very interesting indeed!






All references aprt from no. 4 to Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes, Vintage Books, Translated by Richard Howard, Published by Vintage 2000, Copyright Editions du Seuil 1980, Translation Copyright Farrarm Straus and Girouux 1981

[1] Page 26
[2] Page 27
[3] Page 9
[4] a distorted projection or drawing which appears normal when viewed from a particular point or with a suitable mirror or lens: Google dictionary
[5] Page 33
[6] Page 33
[7] Page 96
[8] Page 97
[9] Page 32

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