Yesterday I was trapped inside all day. After conferencing with intermediate writing students from 8 until 2, I met with my freshman comp class to discuss Susan Sontag’s essay “On Photography,” which is included in our delightfully quirky anthology. Sontag suggests that there are three main reasons why most amateurs take pictures: photography allows us to create and maintain social bonds, photography helps us face our fear of death and our inability to control our own destinies, and photography is a way of exerting power over the scenes and people we “capture” on film.
To a certain degree, of course, I agree with Sontag’s assessment. As a rank amateur, I too practice photography not as an art but as a pastime akin to both dancing and love-making (Sontag’s own examples). Like sex and dancing, photography is a fun thing to do even if you’re bad at it. There’s a certain entertainment value (Sontag uses the term “voyeurism”) in looking at other people’s pictures, even bad ones; even awful pictures (like bad dancers and perhaps terrible lovers) are fun and funny to look at. Sharing pictures gives us something to talk about, and it helps us while away time that we know is fleeting: someday, all these scenes (and we their viewers) will be gone. So Sontag’s right, I think, in claiming that photography is both a “social rite” and a “defense against anxiety,” and the very fact that I am hesitant to take (and post) pictures of people suggests that I do indeed agree that photography can be used as a “tool of power.”
But nowhere in Sontag’s essay does she talk about one concept that is key to all of my photos: love. To me, there is something not merely beautiful but heart-rendingly poignant about empty clothes carefully arranged in a sunlit shop-window: these clothes (and the unseen person who hung them there) cry out for notice and for love. Ignored alleys and the towering backs of buildings demand to be noticed just as their unnamed, unknown inhabitants do: cities and even modest-sized towns like Keene are filled with strangers and outcasts, and photography is one way I reach out to these overlooked lonelies. “I don’t know you, but I’ve seen you.” In this sense, photography is more than a social ritual: photography is a promise. “Having seen you, I won’t forget you.”
Although I have many delusions, considering myself a Photographer is not one of them. Having a brother-in-law who is a photographer and a sister-in-law who runs a gallery of fine photography, I know what Art Photography is (or is supposed to be). When I first started keeping this blog, I hesitated to post photographs because of my rank amateur status: there’s no greater cruelty, I thought, than sharing Bad Poetry or Bad Photography. Since I have no ear for verse, there’s no risk that I’ll inflict poetry on hapless souls…but armed with a digital camera, I can be a danger to myself and others.
In time, though, I began to think that amateur photography–like amateur prose–can have a certain charm. Part of the allure of blogging, of course, is that it is a democratic genre: you don’t have to be good in order to do it. Blog-reading is addictive because like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get. There’s a random delight in hearing an average writer suddenly soar or a wondrous poet lament a bout with writer’s block. We read (and write) blogs not because our writing is great everyday: we read (and write) blogs because everyday it’s great to be writing. Both writing and photography are ultimately human acts, expressions of our human need to notice and be noticed. A blog doesn’t have to be good to be engaging; it simply has to be true.
And so I post pictures not because I fancy myself a Photographer. Nope, I’m just as the tagline says: a collector of the quotidian. If you enjoy these photos, it isn’t because they are artful. Instead, you probably enjoy these photos because you too are curious, intent on noticing, a connoisseur of the random. Like a bottlecap collector or hoarder of old dusty bottles, I keep images because I love them. Our world is, after all, a huge found poem in search of a poet, any finder, who will notice and love it. This noticing isn’t Art; it’s Ordinary.
Mar 4, 2004 at 8:31 am
Ah, you say, “Our world is, after all, a huge found poem in search of a poet, any finder, who will notice and love it.” That’s it, that’s exactly it. Someday I’ll use this quote from you at the head of an essay for those poor souls who don’t know “What There Is To Write About.” As you suggest, your whole post could just as well be directed at “amateur prose” as “amateur photography.” Though personal I find bad prose is more tiresome than bad photos.
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Mar 4, 2004 at 8:31 am
Great post Lorianne
I think it was the artist Peter Blake who said that he didn’t like computer art because too much was possible. That most of the skill of an artist comes from making the most of whatever materials he has to hand and that the constraints are part of what fires creativity.
Making something beautiful or interesting out of the ordinary and every day is surely the ultimate expression of this and you are so, so good at it.
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Mar 4, 2004 at 10:02 am
it’s okay to suck? whew! i’m safe.
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Mar 4, 2004 at 10:33 am
I loved this. I’m sending all my readers your way!
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Mar 4, 2004 at 12:57 pm
Two things struck me in today’s post: “…not because our writing is great everyday:…because everyday it’s great to be writing.” Positively spot-on, as the Brits would say.
And your photo of the building’s backside really intriqued me, not because of the building but I’m darkly curious about that little blue door…where *does* it go and is it really as small as it seems? Reminds me of the sunken/shrunken doors in Beacon Hill. The door may, in reality, not be that small, but the immenseness of the wall makes it seem so. I’d like to think it’s the entrance those magical fairies use that we all hope will come in and clean the dishes while we sleep…
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Mar 4, 2004 at 2:24 pm
random delights*
The sun is back full force, which means spring is not far behind. Bright light not withstanding, I don’t feel much like posting — not out of some childish petulance or deep disturbance of any kind, but more out of…
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Mar 4, 2004 at 6:25 pm
Your photos stay in my mind because of another important aspect of photography: it is a way to be inside somebody else’s head for an instant and see what caught them; and what catches you is meaningful to me. This has many more implications for “knowing” someone than just sharing a fleeting instant of their visual sense. I suppose being married to a very fine photographer has taught me a lot, but now that I, too, post quite a few of my own, I realize that it’s another way of trying to do what we all do here – reveal, share, commune. Great post, Lorianne.
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Mar 4, 2004 at 7:03 pm
Interesting subject. I hadn’t thought of photography in quite that way, since I tend to, but not always, approach it with an artists perspective.
When you mentioned “tool of power” one thing that came to mind immediately was the “paparazzi” and how they use or misuse photography in their work. I also see “power” as strength, in the way an artist might express a subject using shadow, or perspective when composing an image. And of course we know how effective and powerful a photograph can be in communicating a photojournalist’s message.
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Mar 5, 2004 at 7:59 am
Love the way your first sentence and first photo connect.
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Mar 5, 2004 at 9:35 am
Your posts are now my first stop every day: proof that creation is not playing to an empty house. This particularly rich entry sent me straight to William Carlos Williams:
WHEN I was younger
it was plain to me
I must make something of myself.
Older now
I walk back streets
admiring the houses
of the very poor:
roof out of line with sides
the yards cluttered
with old chicken wire, ashes,
furniture gone wrong;
the fences and outhouses
built of barrel staves
and parts of boxes, all,
if I am fortunate,
smeared a bluish green
that properly weathered
pleases me best of all colors.
No one
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.
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Mar 5, 2004 at 9:53 am
Hey there, everyone–good to “see” you all. (Actually, I think this conversation “On Photography” is more lively than the one I had with my freshmen…)
Tom, you’re welcome to the ‘found poem’ quote: the world needs more poem-finders, so we all need to do whatever we can to stir some up.
Euan, very interesting comment about computer art. Actually, many Real Photographers criticize digital photography for the same reason: the technology makes it too easy. And to a certain extent, they’re right. I know nothing about photography: my camera has all sorts of fancy bells & whistles, yet all I do is point & shoot. No technical “craft” whatsoever. BUT, that’s what makes this kind of “noncrafted” photography so democratic: anyone with eyes & an index finger can do it. And so then the focus (no pun intended) can be directed on what the camera SHOWS, not on the artistic ‘tricks’ of the Photographer.
Kathleen, of COURSE it’s okay to suck: in fact, some folks find it very enjoyable! 😉 (okay, so I’m a potty-mouth too…)
Commonbeauty, you are (as always) too kind: thank you!
Gary, I’m so glad you zeroed in on that particular line: it’s my favorite, too! (One of those happy accidents that pop up accidentally under your typing keys…) Yes, the little door is that little: actually, this particular building is very weird because it has no front, just brick walls with all sorts of random bricked- and boarded-up doors. I suspect you’ll be seeing more glimpse of it…
(And BTW, I used to live in Beacon Hill, in an apartment with such a “hobbit hole” door, and we certainly never were visited by dish-washing fairies while we lived there, alas…)
Beth, I simply LOVE this notion of photography being a way of seeing how another sees: damn, I wish I’d thought of that! You’re entirely right, though: that’s why looking through someone’s photo album tells you so much about a person…
Ron, I’m so glad you checked in: I was hoping a “real” photographer would add their perspective! The reason I make the distinction between “real photographers” and the shutter-bugging I do is because what I do ISN’T about craft. I deeply admire the craft of photography…I’m just not trained to do it. So what I do isn’t Art in the sake that it’s not purposefully crafted; in fact, it’s purposefully NOT crafted. So when I look at a professional photographers photos, I’m blown away because I know that what they’re doing isn’t accidental or random.
Although Sontag doesn’t talk about paparazzi, she does address the issue of journalistic photography & points to the problematic way that photography records the status quo rather than working to change it. (For example, a photographer will capture images of a disaster rather than helping the victims of that disaster.) I don’t entirely agree with this critique: I think it’s necessary to record as well as to act. But I agree that “photo hounds” can go to extremes, thereby abusing the “power” of their art.
Amy, I was delighted to read your comment: I hadn’t caught that connection! Actually, after posting this entry, I re-read that first line and thought, “Man, what an idiotic way to start an entry!” But not knowing how else to start, I kept it as-is. So I’m thrilled to think there might be a subconscious Statement behind the idiocy!
Thanks again, everyone, for stopping by: it’s great to hear the discussion a Susan Sontag essay, a couple photos, and a blog-post can generate!
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Mar 5, 2004 at 10:00 am
Isola! So great to meet you: looks like we both were online commenting at the same time!
Thanks for sharing this wonderful WCW poem: although individual lines sound familiar, I don’t think I’ve read the entire thing. This kind of noticing (and cherishing) is exactly the kind of thing that’s of great import to the universe, not only the nation.
So glad you find such moments here, and I hope you find them everywhere…
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Mar 6, 2004 at 3:35 pm
I feel the same way about the art that I post. None of it is high-quality, frameable art. None of it is more than my daily playing with pen and pencils and crayons in my journal. But the creating of it each day brings me untold joy. I share it to share my joy, and to show that art can be your constant friend, your soulmate, your everyday sacred, even as a rank amateur ( what exactly is a rank amateur)?
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Mar 7, 2004 at 11:40 am
Loretta, I *love* the art that you post! There’s something wonderful & refreshing about PLAYFUL art. Serious Art is fine and good, but playing’s good, too: we need both kinds.
I don’t know what a “rank amateur” is, exactly. But I know the word “amateur” derives etymologically from the Latin word for “love.” Amateurs act out of love for their hobbies, not financial considerations. And you have to love people simply do what they love whether or not their product is “high quality” or not. There’s a certain High Quality about love itself, it seems to me…
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