Photography: Objectification and Time

Part One

In chapter 5, Barthes writes, “It can happen that I am observed without knowing it, and again I cannot speak of this experience, since I have determined to be guided by the consciousness of my feelings. But very often (too often, to my taste) I have been photographed and knew it. Now, once I feel myself observed by the lens, everything changes: I constitute myself in the process of “posing,” I instantaneously make another body for myself, I transform myself in advance into an image. This transformation is an active one: I feel that the Photograph creates my body or mortifies it, according to its caprice (apology of this mortiferous power: certain Communards paid with their lives for their willingness or even their eagerness to pose on the barricades: defeated, they were recognized by Thiers’s police and shot, almost every one)” (10-11).

I chose this passage because I believe that it is crucial to Barthes’ argument regarding the power the photograph has over the person being photographed (the subject of the photo). Barthes writes that he is often being photographed and knows it. As soon as he feels himself being “observed by the lens”, everything changes for him and he begins to pose for the photograph. It is interesting that Barthes explains that the photograph objectifies the person and makes him sense (both see and feel) himself transforming into an immobile object that represents one part of him but fails to capture his entire essence. Barthes describes the person’s image of oneself becoming another body, although the person feels death as the photograph is taken and he is objectified. This passage helps me to understand Barthes’ text more generally as a reader, because it really isn’t confusing and allows me to feel what Barthes feels as a person who is being photographed. The action of immediately striking a certain pose for a photograph is very relatable, and it makes sense that we decide how we want to present ourselves to the camera. Nevertheless, no one photograph can capture everything we want to be captured about ourselves and our personal image. The feeling of death that Barthes mentions in this passage ties well with his discussion of thinking about time and death, in relation to the target of a photograph.

Part Two

In chapter 39, Barthes states “At the time (at the beginning of this book: already far away) when I was inquiring into my attachment to certain photographs, I thought I could distinguish a field of cultural interest (the studium) from that unexpected flash which sometimes crosses this field and which I called the punctum. I now know that there exists another punctum (another “stigmatum”) than the “detail.” This new punctum, which is no longer of form but of intensity, is Time, the lacerating emphasis of the noeme (“that-has-been”), its pure representation. In 1865, young Lewis Payne tried to assassinate Secretary of State W. H. Seward. Alexander Gardner photographed him in his cell, where he was waiting to be hanged. The photograph is handsome, as is the boy: that is the studium. But the punctum is: he is going to die. I read at the same time: This will be and this has been; I observe with horror an anterior future of which death is the stake. By giving me the absolute past of the pose (aorist), the photograph tells me death in the future. What pricks me is the discovery of this equivalence. In front of the photograph of my mother as a child, I tell myself: she is going to die: I shudder, like Winnicott’s psychotic patient, over a catastrophe which has already occurred. Whether or not the subject is already dead, every photograph is this catastrophe” (94-96).

I found this passage particularly fascinating, because after referencing the stadium and punctum he writes about in Part 1, Barthes introduces a new and different punctum that exists alongside the “detail”, the one thing in the photograph that is different from everything else and actually defines the photo. Surprisingly, this new punctum is time. Barthes offers Alexander Gardner’s “Portrait of Lewis Payne, 1865” as an example of a photograph where time as a punctum is important. While convict Lewis Payne is the stadium of the photograph, the punctum is his upcoming death. Below the photograph there is a caption stating, “He is dead and he is going to die…” Thus, Barthes explains that by giving him “the absolute past of the pose”, he knows that death is in store for Lewis Payne, the subject of this photograph. Another example is when he looks at a photograph of his mother as a child, he knows she eventually dies, even though she has already died long ago, and feels a sense of sadness. Regardless of whether the subject is dead, he admits that he shudders over the catastrophe of death, which has already occurred, with every photograph. Before reading Camera Lucida, I had never considered this perspective on looking at a photograph. I would simply think about the subject having already died or still being alive, but not as them dying in the future. Frankly, this is a really grim perspective that has made me rethink photography on a whole different level. Not only do I understand Barthes’ point here, but I also feel that he discusses an integral element of analyzing a photograph, since time is part of the story behind a photograph. Furthermore, the thoughts that arise from analyzing this new punctum evoke intense emotions for the spectator.

It’s Question Time

Is there potentially a third punctum, aside from detail and time, that can uniquely define a photograph and change the way we look at it?

It’s Image Time (sorry I know it’s a lot of images but I’m passionate about urban photography)

I wanted to include comments, but well, if you read the book, you know what I’m talking about. By the way, I actually took all these photos by myself from my phone camera. The first three are from New York City, the second to last one is from Providence, RI, and the last one is from Philadelphia, PA. Hope you enjoy!