Photography. Up until this very moment I never gave much thought to what that word really meant. In fact, I don’t think I gave it any thought. I never had any interest. I didn’t care about lighting, shape, or form. I didn’t care about color and value. To me, a photograph was any captured moment – a shot of a scenic landscape, a family picture, even a Snapchat filter selfie.
After reading Camera Lucida by Ronald Barthes and viewing The Photographs of Marcel Sternberger: Portraits of the 20th Century collection at the Mishkin Gallery, I have come to the conclusion that throughout the 18 years of my existence I have been completely ignorant.
Photography is art. It is art in the simplest and yet also most intricate form. Taking a photograph is not the initial “click of a button” I imagined it to be. It is not the “smile for the camera” and “say cheese.” Taking a photograph requires skill. It requires precision. And in a weird way it also requires instinct.
How? It’s quite simple really. Every single day we take pictures. We send out our “streaks.” We post on Instagram. We even take pictures of our notes. But do these daily occurrences count as photographs? Are they works of art?
Some of them maybe. Others probably not. Actually, most of them probably not. Taking a photograph requires an eye for the perfect instant.
Barthes raised an interesting point in that there are two elements – studium and punctum – that an image needs to be considered a photograph. Studium is the general subject of a picture. It’s the political testimony or historical sense the image conveys. Punctum is the exact opposite. It is defined as the emotional power of a piece.
While walking through the exhibit, I found that Sternberger’s photographs contained both studium and punctum. Staring at his work, I felt drawn in by the fact that the images were mostly of famous historical figures – Frida Kahlo, Indira Gandhi, George Bernard Shaw, etc. – and that they all captured an individually intense moment in time.
My favorite however would be the photograph of renowned psychologist Sigmund Freud. In the shot, Freud is seen casually sitting at his desk, papers fanned all over it, and holding a cigar between his fingers. He is looking at the camera with this almost annoyed, borderline peeved expression and his head is slightly tilted. In that moment, he looks effortlessly interesting. The photographer captured Freud’s essence beautifully.
As per the assignment guidelines, I tried to take my own photograph that captured studium and punctum. Unfortunately, I don’t think I did it justice. This picture was taken last weekend in Pennsylvania. I went to visit my uncle and we went down for a walk by the lake. I was amazed by the view – the ripples in the water, the nearly perfect line of full, green leaved trees, the white cumulus clouds. I hope it’s obvious, but just in case, the studium is nature and the punctum is joy.
When people look at my photograph I hope they get the sense that this was a happy moment and great memory for the (amateur) photographer. The same way I was intrigued by Sternberger’s Freud.
-Alyssa Motilal
Alyssa, I loved this blog so much, mainly because it’s so honest. We take photos every day, all the time, and none of them seem to hold nearly an ounce of value; we have developed into a society that just takes pictures because we can, not for the art. I value photography so much more lately, and I agree with your thoughts on how stadium and punctum affect a piece, especially how you stated that punctum is the emotional power, I definitely agree with that.
Alyssa, I loved how you explained punctum as an ’emotional power of a piece,’ I thought that was well said. You’re so right about the streaks, art is everywhere! I thought your picture of the lake in Pennsylvania when visiting your uncle was really beautiful and interesting as well. You distinguished punctum and studium perfectly by saying how studium is nature, while punctum is joy. You seemed to really enjoy photography, and I really enjoyed reading your blog.