Camera Lucida - A Question Of Subjectivity
Thoughts On: Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography (1980)
A repsonse to Roland Barthes ontology of the photographic image.
When first reading Reflections on Photography, it appears that Barthes has an anxiety. He investigates, ontologically, the phenomena (not the art) of photography as an ego reflection - his perspective a loose derivation of Lacanian psychoanalysis, it appears. Photography, to Barthes, then forces the participant and persons involved with the taking of a picture to confront the mind-body dichotomy. Barthes cares not to question the dichotomy itself, merely spill anxiety about it. He then investigates the still camera's inability to capture subjectivity--or rather, laments the camera's objectifying stare. The techno-eye may see reality - its crucial saving grace - but it inherently severs a person from their life, capturing them in a state of existential diminuendo; spectre-like, they are dead. This appears to be the essential Lacanian touch of Barthes' ontology: reality and its reflections fail the self, and so the ego is lost. These pessimistically (realistically?) existential assertions hang over what builds into a fascinating body of theory as rather ill-defined axioms. As mentioned, the mind and body are assumed to be split by the photograph, but such definitive assumptions require at least some discourse.
What about the photograph destroys subjectivity? What about the process of shooting a subject reduces all photographic potential down to banal coding (studium) and occasional inexplicable stimulation (punctum)? With studium and punctum Barthes' captures two self-evidently inherent elements of any art form or communicative process centred on learning: there is the direct and indirect learning or communicative process. One may formulate these in a variety of ways. In the classroom, one may find themselves being tutored or inspired. To be tutored is to, in a way, be trained - to be directly walked through the learning process. To be inspired is to be tutored by the heavens, it can sometimes seem; where certain lessons emerge from, we do not know, but knowledge stands as evidence of the lesson. Studium defines almost all of the given parts of a photograph as cultural, ethical and political manifests. Therefore linguistic, the studium of a photograph speaks with classical, hegemonic coding. The punctum does not speak and it cannot be spoken of. It pricks the spectator, more than fascinating them. It is unclear exactly how the punctum affects the viewer, but it appears that it captures life, being, subjectivity or truth. With caution, I would not define Bathes' punctum as such, however. His theory, as said, is rather egoic. And so whilst photography is dealt with as a phenomena that does violence to subjectivity, it is confronted on an entirely subjective basis. That is to say that, whilst Barthes does not claim any scientific rigour or particular objectivity about his work, he does steep his assertions in profoundly allegorical evidence and personal rumination. Such is philosophy, and so the methodology does not do particular damage to the work. It does, however, characterise punctum in what I believe to be a rather limited capacity. One man's punctum could be another man's studium. This is why Barthes never reproduces one of his most personally affecting photographs (one of his mother as a child - the only one, he believes, to capture her). Does punctum really exist, then, as anything more than a word to describe a feeling. I do not believe so. And whilst there is a strength to this, the limitation lies in the fact that Barthes leaves no room to describe any work as punctual. A photograph may be brooding, melancholic, ecstatic, and the mood or emotion assigned may be argued. But, can it be punctual? How are we to have a discussion about punctum in photography? Would there even be a point?
There is an optimism and an elegance in Barthes studium-punctum dichotomy, but it never overcomes or matches the difficult mind-body dichotomy he establishes as to found these two concepts. One would hope to see the conflict between subjectivity and objectification produced by the slamming of a shutter to be resolved by the recognition of the inspirational--the autonomously profound and affecting--element of a work. One may be surprised to read through Barthes' existentialism a route towards finding subjectivity: the being, truth and life of an Other being photographed. Punctum does not provide photography this ability. Indeed, it separates it from the arts in doing so. Barthes does not care for photography's artistic capacities. Even though his point is made fleetingly, it is clear that he has very little faith in the professional (commercial) photographer. True photography comes from the hand of an amateur - and accidentally so. The lucky amateur does not make art out of the photograph, however. They capture madness. And by this it appears clear that Barthes directs us towards his existential outlook. Impossible it is in his softly solipsistic domain for one to find a true reflection, either of oneself or another. The punctum appears to merely be the fulfilment of an imago. Barthes then attributes the true image of his mother to realism, but true realism is not a personal creation (as is Barthes' punctum). Therefore, there is no reflection of a genuine self in reality (realism) for Barthes. The punctum of a photograph may, however, provide the illusion - as said, fulfil an imago. It is this uncanny and seemingly necessary lie that leaves the world mad. Photography, because of its queer ability to capture that which has been, can capture this true state of madness it can be mad in itself--to Barthes, photography is only true when it is mad.
My response, then, to Barthes work is one of minor repulsion. There is certainly an honesty about his work, and a courage about his subjective ontology of the photographic image - however pessimistic it appears. Alas, the egocentrism of his theory is slightly lost upon me. Hinging his work to its fundamental axioms is Barthes ambiguous definition of who his mother is, of what a body of true being looks like. Who, then, is Barthes to say what photograph truly captures his mother? How does he define her true being; her corporeal truth? I find myself presenting a very similar class of question to myself whenever I try to explore the ontological roots of the cinematic space. Who knows truth and how? Barthes has a difficult relationship with this question. At once he makes subjectivity sacred and relative. My reading of his work leads me to see his fundamental position on subjectivity to have its ties to illusory affect and unspeakable belief. Truth is then known to Barthes, but he dare not express why or how, the punctum an embodiment of personal fact, disavowed faith perhaps. One may then be well inclined to see his Camera Lucida as pseudo-structural posturing that, to borrow Frye's terminology, falls into a history of taste. That is to say that, Barthes structuralises the way in which one may personally (solipsistically) enjoy photography. This is the great strength - and indeed, possibly the key purpose - of his text. But, there appears to be something rather useless about it as a result. As said previously: How are we to have a discussion about punctum in photography? Would there even be a point?
Lacking in Camera Lucida, I find, is a coherent philosophy of truth. I haven't read much of Barthes work, and so cannot deduce a permeating philosophy. Alas, truth appears fluid and ultimately ineffectual in the body of Camera Lucida. Humble though this may make Barthes seem as there is no grand assertion of a dominant and known truth, the ambiguously corporeal conception of truth and realism leaves his work fickle. Photography is structuralised by him, for him; his maddening existentialism satisfied by his theorising of the photographic image as mad - and to the dismay of all those who consider the form art and a communicative process. Such reveals what may be my final position on Camera Lucida; art requires truth, reflections and subjectivity of a more tangible class; photography is an art that may speak in tongues unpolitical, supra-cultural.
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A repsonse to Roland Barthes ontology of the photographic image.
When first reading Reflections on Photography, it appears that Barthes has an anxiety. He investigates, ontologically, the phenomena (not the art) of photography as an ego reflection - his perspective a loose derivation of Lacanian psychoanalysis, it appears. Photography, to Barthes, then forces the participant and persons involved with the taking of a picture to confront the mind-body dichotomy. Barthes cares not to question the dichotomy itself, merely spill anxiety about it. He then investigates the still camera's inability to capture subjectivity--or rather, laments the camera's objectifying stare. The techno-eye may see reality - its crucial saving grace - but it inherently severs a person from their life, capturing them in a state of existential diminuendo; spectre-like, they are dead. This appears to be the essential Lacanian touch of Barthes' ontology: reality and its reflections fail the self, and so the ego is lost. These pessimistically (realistically?) existential assertions hang over what builds into a fascinating body of theory as rather ill-defined axioms. As mentioned, the mind and body are assumed to be split by the photograph, but such definitive assumptions require at least some discourse.
What about the photograph destroys subjectivity? What about the process of shooting a subject reduces all photographic potential down to banal coding (studium) and occasional inexplicable stimulation (punctum)? With studium and punctum Barthes' captures two self-evidently inherent elements of any art form or communicative process centred on learning: there is the direct and indirect learning or communicative process. One may formulate these in a variety of ways. In the classroom, one may find themselves being tutored or inspired. To be tutored is to, in a way, be trained - to be directly walked through the learning process. To be inspired is to be tutored by the heavens, it can sometimes seem; where certain lessons emerge from, we do not know, but knowledge stands as evidence of the lesson. Studium defines almost all of the given parts of a photograph as cultural, ethical and political manifests. Therefore linguistic, the studium of a photograph speaks with classical, hegemonic coding. The punctum does not speak and it cannot be spoken of. It pricks the spectator, more than fascinating them. It is unclear exactly how the punctum affects the viewer, but it appears that it captures life, being, subjectivity or truth. With caution, I would not define Bathes' punctum as such, however. His theory, as said, is rather egoic. And so whilst photography is dealt with as a phenomena that does violence to subjectivity, it is confronted on an entirely subjective basis. That is to say that, whilst Barthes does not claim any scientific rigour or particular objectivity about his work, he does steep his assertions in profoundly allegorical evidence and personal rumination. Such is philosophy, and so the methodology does not do particular damage to the work. It does, however, characterise punctum in what I believe to be a rather limited capacity. One man's punctum could be another man's studium. This is why Barthes never reproduces one of his most personally affecting photographs (one of his mother as a child - the only one, he believes, to capture her). Does punctum really exist, then, as anything more than a word to describe a feeling. I do not believe so. And whilst there is a strength to this, the limitation lies in the fact that Barthes leaves no room to describe any work as punctual. A photograph may be brooding, melancholic, ecstatic, and the mood or emotion assigned may be argued. But, can it be punctual? How are we to have a discussion about punctum in photography? Would there even be a point?
There is an optimism and an elegance in Barthes studium-punctum dichotomy, but it never overcomes or matches the difficult mind-body dichotomy he establishes as to found these two concepts. One would hope to see the conflict between subjectivity and objectification produced by the slamming of a shutter to be resolved by the recognition of the inspirational--the autonomously profound and affecting--element of a work. One may be surprised to read through Barthes' existentialism a route towards finding subjectivity: the being, truth and life of an Other being photographed. Punctum does not provide photography this ability. Indeed, it separates it from the arts in doing so. Barthes does not care for photography's artistic capacities. Even though his point is made fleetingly, it is clear that he has very little faith in the professional (commercial) photographer. True photography comes from the hand of an amateur - and accidentally so. The lucky amateur does not make art out of the photograph, however. They capture madness. And by this it appears clear that Barthes directs us towards his existential outlook. Impossible it is in his softly solipsistic domain for one to find a true reflection, either of oneself or another. The punctum appears to merely be the fulfilment of an imago. Barthes then attributes the true image of his mother to realism, but true realism is not a personal creation (as is Barthes' punctum). Therefore, there is no reflection of a genuine self in reality (realism) for Barthes. The punctum of a photograph may, however, provide the illusion - as said, fulfil an imago. It is this uncanny and seemingly necessary lie that leaves the world mad. Photography, because of its queer ability to capture that which has been, can capture this true state of madness it can be mad in itself--to Barthes, photography is only true when it is mad.
My response, then, to Barthes work is one of minor repulsion. There is certainly an honesty about his work, and a courage about his subjective ontology of the photographic image - however pessimistic it appears. Alas, the egocentrism of his theory is slightly lost upon me. Hinging his work to its fundamental axioms is Barthes ambiguous definition of who his mother is, of what a body of true being looks like. Who, then, is Barthes to say what photograph truly captures his mother? How does he define her true being; her corporeal truth? I find myself presenting a very similar class of question to myself whenever I try to explore the ontological roots of the cinematic space. Who knows truth and how? Barthes has a difficult relationship with this question. At once he makes subjectivity sacred and relative. My reading of his work leads me to see his fundamental position on subjectivity to have its ties to illusory affect and unspeakable belief. Truth is then known to Barthes, but he dare not express why or how, the punctum an embodiment of personal fact, disavowed faith perhaps. One may then be well inclined to see his Camera Lucida as pseudo-structural posturing that, to borrow Frye's terminology, falls into a history of taste. That is to say that, Barthes structuralises the way in which one may personally (solipsistically) enjoy photography. This is the great strength - and indeed, possibly the key purpose - of his text. But, there appears to be something rather useless about it as a result. As said previously: How are we to have a discussion about punctum in photography? Would there even be a point?
Lacking in Camera Lucida, I find, is a coherent philosophy of truth. I haven't read much of Barthes work, and so cannot deduce a permeating philosophy. Alas, truth appears fluid and ultimately ineffectual in the body of Camera Lucida. Humble though this may make Barthes seem as there is no grand assertion of a dominant and known truth, the ambiguously corporeal conception of truth and realism leaves his work fickle. Photography is structuralised by him, for him; his maddening existentialism satisfied by his theorising of the photographic image as mad - and to the dismay of all those who consider the form art and a communicative process. Such reveals what may be my final position on Camera Lucida; art requires truth, reflections and subjectivity of a more tangible class; photography is an art that may speak in tongues unpolitical, supra-cultural.
Previous post:
Pokémon: Detective Pikachu - What's The Point Of Live-Action?
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
