What the Camera Sees (And Shouldn't See)

So far my investigations have focused on things that have been aimed directly at the camera, or that the figure in the photo has a knowledge of the camera that is being posed at them. I decided to stage an investigation that was much more private and perhaps more sinister. In this setting, the camera becomes a voyeur. Or, perhaps voyeur is too passive a word as the camera becomes more like something that exposes – quite literally – the subject.

In fact, 'exposure' becomes quite an interesting term if we take it both in a literal and photographic term. To expose something in photography is to shed light on it – it is an act of 'throwing light' on a subject. Perhaps this is why we believe in the veracity of the photograph: we believe that it brings something to light that was previously kept in the dark. In the very early days of photography, this was perceived to be the 'tabula rasa' of the film: an uncarved block that could only have what was exposed by light impressed on its surface. However, exposure takes on a deeper meaning when the camera makes all acts – including private acts – public. The camera loves to expose as – through angle, frame and lighting – it reflects things back at you in a new light. The camera is not a voyeur, but sometimes a very vicious tattle-tale who only sees things from its own perspective.

In this investigation, I Heart Television, I decided to invert the knowledge of the camera, or the expectation of enactment happening when the still image is viewed, and make it an exposer – an intrusion on an extremely private act. It started with a literal interpretation of a gesture, loving your television, and took it to a level of mania and hysteria.

I'm not saying that the poses or acts weren't staged – obviously they were – but I tried to introduce a mania or erotic impulsivity to it.

Tuning In

Television Love

The set up of these pictures felt very 'Readers Wives': there was something very domestic about the shots and very seedy about the setting adding to the image's uneasiness. Also, the deranged and ominous motivations behind the gesture – clearly driven by eroticism – provide

I found this series became replete when it followed a sequence and had a poignant 'ending':

I Heart Television

Here we can see the mania and the indulgence, as well as the love and entertainment the TV provides, but for me it's the last image that completes it. It feels like a frenzied action driven by an uncontrollable eroticism, which then inevitably ends in shame. The camera exposes this shame and amplifies it. It focuses on the ridiculousness and makes the figure in the picture feel it. It makes the viewer feel uneasy for peeping into this private act. And what is most surprising is that even though the act is sexual, the over-riding question (or perhaps it is underlying) is did the person actually enjoy this act? The pleasure seems to be taken beyond the point of pleasure to sadness and pain.

I think the interesting thing about this experiment is what is it the camera should see, and should it expose what it sees? Do we even have a choice about what is exposed by the camera and what isn't? To the camera, all acts are fair game.

Also, there is a difference between the knowledge of the presence of the camera and a sense of enactment where the figure expects to be viewed, and presenting the viewer with a sense of privacy and a 'forced enactment'. This 'force' presents the viewer with unease, but could also give birth to intrigue.

On Location 1: The Beach

I've recently been interested by the idea of the performance intervention, or how an intervention leaves very little trace after it happens. The intervention is a gesture that has an accidental audience at the time of capture and is usually documented as a still image after the fact. The viewers of the still image are a more considered audience and the intervention is re-enacted when the image is viewed as an encounter between the photograph and the viewer.

Taking advantage of Falmouth's varied scenery (rural, beach etc), I decided to start investigating this sense of intervention, by using elements of the absurd to intrude on the landscape. For my first investigation, I decided to go to the beach on one of the coldest days in January and have an impromptu beach party. The actions were simple – for instance trying to pour a glass of wine or blowing a party blower in front of the camera. Of course, I also dressed in a party hat, frilly shirt and bow tie.

There were two elements to this: firstly, it was the confidence to actually dress up and just 'do' something. Secondly, it was how well I could take these images by myself on location. I decided to use natural light and set the camera to a low ISO setting (200) to try and retain as much natural light as possible. I did plan more actions, such as popping party poppers, but it was so windy, it made it near impossible.

Beach Party Blower

What I love about these images is there are evidently other people on the beach, but they largely try and ignore what is happening. In fact, the 'accidental audience' met the actions with confusion and gave me a wide berth. Their dogs, however, were much more curious. I had many dogs running up to me and barking at me while their owners were very embarrassed and tried to shoo them away from me. This was especially difficult if I would set the timer on the camera, run for a pose and then have a dog running after me. I think people were also very suspicious of me. Some of them watched me to make sure I wasn't doing anything harmful or damaging – I was actually surprised at the level of concern at what appeared to me to be a completely ridiculous action.

Funnily enough, there were also other photographers on the beach who were trying to capture the waves and scenic landscape. I  found it interesting that they made a decision that was contrary to mine: they purposely chose not to have me in their frame because I was ruining their image of a picturesque beach in January. So in this way, there was an interesting photographic dichotomy going on that day. There was me who was deliberately trying to find the ridiculous, the unusual or the abnormal – in fact I was creating it, causing it. And on the other hand, the other photographers had made a decision to cut out this happening. I won't go so far as to say they weren't looking for the extraordinary – scenery in itself, or simply photographing the grey clouds could be considered just that – but they actively chose to move somewhere else on the beach to preserve its illusion of tranquility.

So a question arises here about which of the photographs is more deceitful: mine for constructing a happening to be documented, or theirs for making a choice not to document something that was happening as simultaneously as the beautiful clouds and rolling waves?

Out To Sea

After a while, the fact that I was dressed in a party hat and sunglasses seemed to fade slightly. However, the focus on constructing the image becomes more intense. Because there is an 'end purpose', the achievement of this purpose becomes primary and the performance becomes focused towards that end. Does it matter that the performance is solely for the camera? If the real focus of the performance is to happen when the image is constructed and printed, then no it doesn't. The process of taking images becomes a rehearsal – you take them over and over until you get it right and then instantly the 'right' image becomes the one you present to your audience.

The weather was a constricting factor throughout the shoot. At one point I tried to go into the sea without my shoes on, but my feet went numb, and running backwards and forwards to the camera became a hassle. Also, I was going to do some shots in just trunks, but it didn't happen because the tripod kept blowing over and there was a limited time I could spend that undressed.

I Wished You Were There (But You Weren't)

What has struck me about some of the images, like the first one on this blog and the one pictured above, is that there is a sense of absence. The gaze in 'I Wished You Were There' says "I am having a great time, but only because you can see me now." Which leads to the question, was I actually having a good time when I was on the beach in the first place, or do I just want the viewer to think that? It very much reminds me of Baudrillard's comparison of the hyper-real to the holiday snapshot. When we look back at it, we convince ourselves we were having a good time in the photo because we smile, gesture or pose in such a way. However, it could have just been another boring and ordinary day.

Nonetheless, this puts some kind of emphasis on absence in the still image not of the performer, but actually of the viewer. The expectancy of the figure in the photograph is that he is eventually viewed, that he comes to life once more. I titled this particular photo 'I Wished You Were There (But You Weren't)' partially because I wanted to encapsulate a sense of fun that the audience wants to share, but also slightly to convey a sense of disappointment on behalf of the person in the photograph that he was essentially celebrating alone.

For the first intervention, I think it was a good experiment. It challenged how gutsy I could be and also a lot can be achieved by acting on artistic impulse, in terms of realising in whatever way an idea that's bouncing around in your head. I learned a bit more about where and how my practice could go and would probably return to this set up with a better camera and tripod, with perhaps slightly more stable weather.

I wondered if the gesture of the action in itself was strong enough to attract much of an accidental audience, but it certainly made me contextualise where the still image sat in relation to an action that you were doing right now.

The Ghostly Photograph

The idea of of photographs becomes haunted or ghostly is something that Barthes and Baudrillard both discuss. The photograph has an unholy power to collapse past and present into one moment, and also the power of evocative nostalgia – sometimes the power to bring what is dead back to life.

I started to play with this notion of 'ghosting' by using long shutter speed times in order to capture a momentary impression. The place in which I experimented was in itself a transient space – a room on campus that I stay at overnight. It made me think of other places that we temporarily own, or non-places. For instance, when we go on holiday and stay in a hotel, we often refer to the hotel room as 'my' room, 'my' bed and 'home'. However, it has been a home to many people at one time.

This impermanence is a quality that performance shares: it exists as a brief impression on both the environment and on the mind of the person who witnesses it. I think this ghosting effect very accurately captures this sense of something once being there, but now no longer. In a sense, all of our actions become ghosted and leave the tiniest, momentary impression on the environment.

Falling Into Bed

I found that choosing where you wanted the deepest impression to be left was one of the most important parts of this exercise. For example, the final point – lying on the bed – left the longest exposure, but the motion blur gives the feeling that the person could either be getting up or lying down. As long as the gesture has a cyclical nature, the gesture stars to take on a repetitive power of its own.

Faceless

This particular image, I was shaking my head side to side. I thought it might give the impression of looking around the room, but instead the lasting image is of a faceless, more frantic being. The motion produces a very nervous kinetic energy – it almost buzzes.

The most effective image came from a very subtle impression:

I Woz(n't) (T)Here

The impression is almost unnoticeable at first, but on second glance it is evident the shadow in doorway is a figure. I have showed it to people since who always squint as though they wonder why I am showing them a picture of a room, before they say, "Ohhhh" and realise.

The image for me encapsulates the sense of someone or something having been there and now is there no longer. There is also some question as to what the figure is going through – Loss? Grief? Upset? The transience of the mood is also captured here as a passing moment. I also think it gives a sense of unease about putting context to what is essentially a 'non place'. This room may, over time, be populated by many more people. However, it is now no longer an impersonal, anonymous room you can make your own – it is haunted by this event, by this figure and by their emotion.

I think this making a place out of anonymous rooms and also trying to track the 'impressions' that we as human beings leave on buildings has an interesting angle of transience and perhaps highlights the disappearance of action effectively – that ultimately the world is populated by ghosts who live near-invisible marks on the physical environment.

Experiments in 35mm

So, I mentioned in my last post Disguise that we were 'scared' of losing the photos on film due to under or over exposure and the fears were well founded – after 2 processing attempts on two different films, I found that the camera was not working. The films came out blank, and though there were chances for over exposure the fogging on the negatives appeared without any intact negatives. I had a look on the internet and this kind of gross overexposure is usually due to a light leak in the camera, which is really unfortunate as it prevented me from doing any printing.

However, the annoyance at having lost these shots is interesting. On my second roll of film I decided to go out and take a 'test roll' of nature photography around campus. I thought I was finally getting to grips with aperture size and shutter speeds, by exploring detailed berries on bushes, moss on twigs and landscapes filled with details of trees... I did a few close up shots with the background blurry and a few shots with a greater depth of field that had objects in the foreground blurry to experiment with how light and focus changes the composition of the picture.

I'm sad to say all of these were lost... But interesting questions still remain here. The act/gesture of photographing still occurred, the thought process and decisions around composition still occurred, but without the document the act becomes redundant, meaningless or anecdotal.

Is say-so enough to validate the act? No, it's not. And that's why documentation is such an important act in itself.

As an aside, the process of processing was actually rather enjoyable. I have decided that art + chemistry = photography. It's a wonderful combination of disciplines! And the anticipation of *not knowing* how the shots will come out and waiting for the negatives to come to life is pretty exciting. I suppose in some ways it's how a painter feels when they've finished a piece – a sense of accomplishment that they 'made this' happen.

'The Real' Is In Crisis

I remember this summer I was out walking with a friend of mine and I popped into a shop to buy a drink. It was a Cherry Coke. Suddenly he said to me, "You like cherry flavoured things, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" I replied.

"Well, you have apple and cherry juice at home, your favourite cake is black forest gateaux and your favourite yoghurt is black cherry. And now you're buying a Cherry Coke."

I smiled and was amused by this thing which I had never noticed about myself before. "What's funny is," I replied, "that I like cherry flavoured things, but I don't like cherries."

This particular anecdote is a perfect allegory for exactly why the real is in crisis. My experience of the flavour of cherry is far removed from what a real cherry tastes like, to such an extent that I actually prefer the synthesised, simulated taste of a cherry to experiencing the fruit itself.

It's not a new idea – in fact, I'm a fan of Baudrillard's theories on the real and Zizek's interrogations of what we consider real or not. Pop culture has become a hall of mirrors with no exterior point of reference – everything is a copy of that which is already in its sphere of reference. Our culture has become a machine that recycles images of the past and reflects them back through the hyper-real visors of modern life, often mirroring some unseen angle or a glinting facet that wasn’t obvious before. Perhaps in its re-use, it inadvertently creates an immediacy of novelty that the youth grab on to and ride until the mechanics of the zeitgeist crank up once again and another postmodern pastiche is created to satiate the need for the next best thing.

We will watch a film looking to simulate feelings of fear, happiness or heartbreak because it echoes a semblance of the real emotion without the risk of having to go through the pain of experiencing it. We watch theatre and we are twice removed from the emotions: the actors act it and we simulate inside ourselves the emotions that the actors are themselves simulating.

So why is it that we lend such veracity to photography? In mainstream media, the photograph is used as undeniable proof that an event has occurred – for instance in movies like Blow-Up or Bladerunner – but the photograph is seen as inferior to the film's much grander narrative. The fact is that photography as a document has always been questioned and I think that this particular media has never claimed to be representative, but is admired for it's ability to capture what is there and reflect it back to the viewer in a new, objectified light.

The reason we enjoy photography is exactly because it defies the real; it is an intervention on the real. It defies what we should expect of the document by extending time, compressing past and present. It not only displays what is, but also what has been. It is tinged with both nostalgia and surprise, sadness and beauty. When we look at the image we want it to be more than what it is – to surpass what we know to be real.

The most alarming thing about the photograph is not that it does not represent the real, but – in this culture of consumption and consumerism – the still image has replaced the real. It has become our point of reference – an aspiration. When we dance, we dance in a series of poses and gestures that – when frozen – would make the perfect image. When someone pulls out a camera, we become amateur composers – we pose, we arrange objects into a small scene, we look directly at the lens and click because we want people to believe that the image we have composed is our reality.

And we do believe. We comment on Facebook, Flickr or Instagram about how 'hot' something is when we know that the perspective, pose and pout of the photo is completely staged.

Yet there is this argument of 'authenticity', to which I have to ask what is authentic? What is left in this world that has a shred of 'authenticity' left in it? Unless, we are demanding that authenticity is an authentic reproduction of what is a simulated reality in the first instance.

We have come to adore simulation. The real is in crisis because 'reality' has warped into something else entirely.

Disguise

In order to explore the performance of the photograph some more, I asked Steve Millar if he could take some photographs of me in various different disguises, echoing Cindy Sherman but also playing with the idea of thrusting something peculiar onto the everyday. Inspired by my supervisor Sian Bonnell, I decided to juxtapose queer identity with the domestic. It also echoes Gale Force: Council House Superstar in its humdrum setting, but tries to add glamour, suspicion and also a kind of beautiful ugliness to the backdrop. Most of these shots have been taken on 35mm B and W film for hand processing, but we did do test shots in digital to see whether or not it needed flash, and if so how much. However, I can't guarantee the exposure of the film shots (which is kind of what makes it so exciting), but may be some burn techniques in the darkroom will lighten the contrast.

As an aside, it's interesting we felt the need to 'test' it in digital first so as to make sure the final film version was right instead of treasuring whatever might be committed to film. There was an interesting 'fear of loss' here and the need to ensure that whatever the outcome on print, there was still some record of it in digital.

First up, was a shot I called Shame-O-Vestism:

Shame-O-Vestism

Drag – or even any kind of dressing up – involves some elaborate kind of ritual: make up, dress earrings, hair (or wig). I have not really played with drag to its full extent, as I think using elements of it to politicise the queer identity is much more interesting than to play to gender stereotypes that fall into some kind of 'gender binary' homonormative perspective of this particular genre. Here, I decided to show the state in between fully dressed up and naked, male and female, and glamour and the banal. I wanted the photo to feel as though the person had just been 'caught' by the viewer: that they had walked in on this bathroom scene where they were in a transitional state and hence the anger arises.

The towel serves as a kind of 'wig'; though there is no indication of long, feminine hair, the style of towel wrap points towards a complicated ritual of gender-typical dress. There were also little touches I intentionally implemented to give hints of glamour-aspiration, such as the glass costume jewellery bracelet, and the pearls spilling from a handbag in my lap. This is essentially grated against by more industrial, domestic elements such as the lock on the door, the tiling in the bathroom and the vague view of towels over the bath. Even the hairy arms seem to offset the aspiration of the figure in this picture. The effect is an annoyance on the intrusion of such a ritual and that we always need to see the finished product or the illusion, rather than the process or transition.

In many ways, this picture also represents a 'mid-point' of a gesture – the one between male and female. As a contrast, the actual underlying gesture becomes one of anger, shame and annoyance: something that is not quite ready or finished. The bathroom setting also gives it the illusion of the gritty 'truck driver' drag that is never quite convincing in its authenticity.

Domesticity's A Drag

This photograph tries to incorporate more glamour, but balances it with everyday elements. Here, I'm actually wearing something from the 'Mother of the Bride' collection by wedding dress designer Ian Stuart, suggesting a sense of overblown occasion along with square Hollywood style sunglasses, complemented by the touch of pearls. Again, there is no wig worn to make it obvious that this is a man, but in order to inject an intervention on the everyday activity of ironing, it is the wig that is being straightened under the iron, which again connotes a sense of preparation for an event. Perhaps the image suggests a prelude to the drag as in Shame-O-Vestism – that the figure is preparing to make a debut. I also feel there's some kind of reverie-like quality to this image: the figure in the photo stares off into the lens as though they are dreaming of a better life beyond the ironing, as one is prone to doing when engaging in a repetitive task. Perhaps they are even trying to convince the viewer of their inherent glamour.

Keeping It In the Closet

Playing with a traditionally more masculine figure in shirt and tie, but accentuating features with make up and wearing a wig to provide a level of difference. This image echos one of Sherman's Untitled Film Still actions, with her taking a book off of a shelf. But instead the figure is taking out another costume, perhaps transitioning from formal to casual wear. There is a surreptitious tone to the image: the figure looks to the side to check whether or not he is being watched and whether anyone will notice his transition. The cluttered wardrobe adds to the effect. Clothes are discarded and spill out, threatening to reveal themselves, but remain densely packed in the same space. I feel this image would have been boosted if the item he is holding would have been a dress or perhaps even some kind of fetish object, like a leather harness or gimp mask, providing a level of perversion to its suburban ethos.

Preparing, dressing and posing for one shot can be a lengthy process and sometimes the slightest detail can add to the mise-en-scene of the still. It is essential to get the set just right. In these examples, I think of Shame-O-Vestism, and even the touch of the bracelet or getting the lock of the bathroom door in the shot can add another level, or an extra dimension to the underlying meaning of the photograph. It's important to consider all these elements in composition – missing one thing out means the viewer misses whatever the artist is trying to convey.

Originally, I wanted these shots to be a series of guerilla performances that were interventions on the urban landscape, but I found that gaining permissions and setting up scenarios is a similarly lengthy process. I feel, however, that this could still be done and would validate the actuality of the performance behind the image. I like this concept of the image being an intervention on the general perception of 'the real' that conflicts, confuses and delights the viewer.

The composition was much easier when someone else was holding the camera too, though the possibility of having a tripod is not ruled out either. In these shots, I feel like I played the role of 'artistic director' and negotiated the concept with someone else having their finger on the shutter.

I think there are many concepts at play here that deserve more investigation: the juxtaposition of queer identity and the everyday, the underlying absurdism of the images that arises from that and the structured versus liveness/performance-in-motion composition and how that impacts on the performativity of the image.

One thing that could have more discourse is the analogue and digital methods used to capture these. I've yet to see the prints, but the fact that we felt we needed to have a digital 'back-up' speaks volumes and really reinforces the arguments behind the 'disappearance' of performance and the need to document this. Even though these were specifically for camera, the fear that through analogue it may not turn out perfectly amplifies that – as we are in a digital age of instant gratification – we need immediate feedback on what we're doing.

Technical vs Conceptual photography

I'm quickly learning that over the years, photography has been approached in two ways: either by artists who are interesting in testing and experimenting with photography and by photographers who are interested in technique and its effects on the photograph.

It's quite interesting that photography has this bent: that it is both a technical discipline and a conceptual one. Of course, one could say the same of painting – that mastery of basic principles is important before you go avant garde, but I guess I am surprised that there is more to it than just clicking the camera to achieve your desired effect.

What also surprises me is that – because it is a relatively new discipline – it is not as widely researched by photographers looking to contextualise their work beyond the documentary or the technical. The aesthetic supersedes the concept.