In Camera Lucida, Roland Barthes establishes his personal definition of a successful photograph. This definition helped me a lot, since understanding how to decipher photographs has been quite difficult for me. My assumption is that we are extremely saturated with photographs and it has become something too close and familiar to us. How do you question and take apart the idea of a photograph when you just took a photo of your “To-Do” list so that you don’t carry a piece of paper with you? How do you decipher and look deeply into framed professional photography when you scroll through hundreds of images and photographs on Facebook and Instagram, daily? These facts are misleading and offer the confidence that photography is nothing new to us, but the meaning and the content of photography is something incredibly far from familiar, at least to me.
So embarking on this journey has been difficult. In short, Barthes looks at studium and punctum as the main elements of a photograph. Studium refers to an “enthusiastic commitment,” Barthes writes in Camera Lucida. This is the initial attraction towards a photograph. It’s what makes you stop and engage your eyes with what you’re actually seeing. It’s what makes your eyes stick to the photograph, in opposed to ‘glancing’ at something pointlessly. The second element “punctuates” the first. Barthes explains that the punctum sticks out and pokes the observer. It is the element of purpose and the special something in the photograph. It makes the photo thought provoking and worthy of questions and searches for answers.
This being said, Marcel Sternberger’s photographs in the Miskin Gallery were all rich with studium, in my opinion. The black background of the portraits put a focus on the subject. Once your eyes focused on the subject and were engaged by what they had to say, you noticed how effortless their expressions were. The studium, the desire to study these faces, the “enthusiastic commitment,” happened because of the simplicity and the effortlessness of the photos.
Looking into the eyes of each person in every photograph made me feel like I know them. I felt an incredibly strong connection with each one of them. This was the inevitable effect of the punctum. I was surprised at the feeling I got from every single photograph in the exhibit and I began searching for the reason. Why was this happening? Why did I feel like I know Albert Einstein? Why did I feel like Pearl S.Buck was in my living room drinking coffee with my mom last week? Why am I making up stories behind these feelings? There, I discovered the punctum.
The punctum was in the familiarity. Marcel Sternberger could not photograph someone without truly knowing them, thus he knew the best way to capture their identity. The curator of the exhibit caught the punctum perfectly: “Ultimately… Sternberger was a psychologist with a camera, capturing his subjects’ inner selves in that moment his shutter flickered.” The simplicity in the photos, the black background, the effortless poses of the subject, the familiarity in their gaze, all of these elements created the punctum that picks at your brain, trying to think where you know these people from and how come you know them personally? Or do you?
I cannot give a specific photograph as an example for two reasons. My photo of Marcel Sternberger’s photograph doesn’t do it any justice and in all honesty, I connected to every single one of his photographs.
Here is a photograph that I have taken. It was a moment that called my name when I noticed it, making me take out my phone and capture it. The studium was instant. It was a beautiful moment, a beautiful view, what wasn’t admirable? The punctum came afterwards, when I imagined the sky and the sea becoming one. I began trying to see something else at the horizon, something peeking out. What was happening there? How would it look from that side towards this one? Could the sky and the sea connect eventually? Did they become one? The studium made me stop and the punctum made me look closely.
Ellen Stoyanov
I really enjoyed the way you described your personal connection to the people in the photographs. I didn’t realize it at first, but it makes total sense that looking into a photograph, especially of a person staring at the camera, will provoke some element of a personal attachment. The people in the photographs are in a certain, yet distinct positions with certain facial expressions, which give the impression of familiarity, or knowing them somehow. The way you related your personal experience while viewing the exhibit paved the way for your very descriptive and relatable definitions of studium and punctum. Great work!
I really enjoyed this blog about your views on stadium and punctum, and photography in general! I agree with your idea of photography being too engrained in our daily lives, it makes the idea of capturing a moment seem arbitrary when we do so 24/7…nothing feels as special. I love your interpretations on stadium and punctum, and I like the idea of punctum changing for a person after a photo is taken, or after they’ve looked at it before already. It really shows how personal it is.
Ellen, I thoroughly enjoyed every word of your post. My favorite line was, “Why did I feel like Pearl S. Buck was in my living room drinking coffee with my mom last week?” I found it to be quite hilarious but also incredibly relatable. The connection you felt with that photograph reminded me of the one I felt when I looked at the photographs of Frida Kahlo. I felt like I knew a person I had never even met.
Totally agree with your feelings toward photography. After being exposed to so many photos in our lifetime, which ones began to stand out in our memory and leave lasting impacts? I loved how you were able to incorporate the definitions of Studium and Punctum to answer these questions. Amazed by your personal photo and like how you talked about the union of the sea and sky at the horizon, very thought provoking blog!