Face

<p>*Pease see the definition of "face" at the bottom of this post. In particular, "face ... is something that is not lodged in or on his body, but rather something that is diffusely located in the flow of events in the encounter."</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"... maintenance of face is a condition of interaction, not its objective. ... one learns about the code the person adheres to in his movement across the paths and designs of others, but not where he is going or why he wants to go there."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That is a quote from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erving_Goffman">Erving Goffman</a> that I've been thinking about reference still photography. In particular, does a still picture usually get only the "condition of interaction" and "not its objective"? Must one rely on props; references, symbols, setting to introduce "objective"? Given the critical role that pictures play in the presentation and maintenance of face, what is the photographer's role or right or obligation in this "interaction"?</p>

<p>Here is the Goffman quote with more context:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"... maintenance of face is a condition of interaction, not its objective. Usual objectives, such as gaining face for oneself, giving free expression to one's true beliefs, introducing depreciating information about the others, or solving problems and performing tasks, are typically pursued in such a way as to be consistent with the maintenance of face. To study face-saving is to study the traffic rules of social interaction; one learns about the code the person adheres to in his movement across the paths and designs of others, but not where he is going or why he wants to go there."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>And, for the Definition Police, here is Goffman's definition of "face" as he is using it here:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"... A person may be said to <em>have</em>, or <em>be in</em>, or <em>maintain</em> face when the line he effectively takes presents an image of him that is internally consistent; that is supported by judgments and evidence conveyed by other participants, and that is confirmed by evidence conveyed through impersonal agencies in the situation. At such times the person's face clearly is something that is not lodged in or on his body, but rather something that is diffusely located in the flow of events in the encounter and becomes manifest only when these events are read and interpreted for the appraisals expressed in them."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>[All quotes are taken from <em>Interaction Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behavior</em> by Erving Goffman (1967)]</p>

<p>Duly noted, Ms. Julie. You make an inescapable point.</p>

<p>There seems something inherently defensive about this concept of face, especially when it is tied into "saving face." The more non-defensive (non-"saving") aspects of it interest me more (not dissimilar to what we typically refer to as <em>voice</em>, I think).</p>

<p>Goffman's description of face sounds like something we've discussed before . . . gesture, perhaps an expanded view of gesture that we might term "posture." (Not a defensive "posturing," but a neutral "posture.")</p>

<p><em>"One learns . . . not where he is going or why he wants to go there."</em></p>

<p>This is not necessarily true. One can learn many things both from interaction with people and from seeing people's photos. Sure, often viewers simply project and don't actually learn. That's because many viewers are too busy having a "subjective" experience to actually empathize with photographs and accept them on other terms but their own. I don't think intentions and goals have to be as private as Goffman is making out.</p>

<p>Some (<em>some</em>) photographs tell us more than others.</p>

<p>It's an idea worth pondering because it can address to what extent intentions can be observed. I think there are many visual clues to intent, often misread and, as I said, often projected. But the fact that they can be easily misread and projected doesn't mean that a discriminating observer can't be very much in sync with a photographer's intentions and goals, especially when the photographer is good at what he does.</p>

<p>Fred said, "It's an idea worth pondering because it can address to what extent intentions can be observed."</p>

<p>I find myself in a pickle reference observable intentions. Because ... First, is Goffman right in claiming that "condition" can be split off from "objective" or are the two inextricable. And second, if I accept that they can and are, in a photograph, how do I or can I know whose "objective" I am seeing; photographer or subject?</p>

<p>I seem to feel, paradoxically, that the better the photographer, the more composed, crafted (better, more effective), the more I feel that it is the photographer's "objective" that I am witnessing, not that of the subject. In other words, I seem to feel that, almost by definition, if the "condition" has been so effectively employed to make a good picture, then the (good) photographer must have hi-jacked the "condtion" that he found in his subject to serve his/her own end. On the other hand, the worse the photograph, the less composed, the less crafted it is, the more likely I am to feel that I am witnessing the "objective" of the subject shown, and not that of the photographer.</p>

<p>Trying further to see my way out of this hole, instead of envisioning the photographer as active (upon seeing the "condition" offered by a subject's "face" he uses it creatively to his own ends), I think perhaps a photographer could be the passive recipient of that "objective" and then be portraying what he (passively) received. In other words, instead of using the "face" he could try to show, in his pictures, how the subject affected him/her. (Luis, that's the best I can do; I know you're going to scold me ...) But how would a viewer know that this was the case, when/if it was the case? Heck, how would the photographer even know how valid his response was? And so on ... pickles, pickles, pickles everywhere.</p>

<p>I have a hard time convincing myself of any examples of pictures where a good photographer was not or did not use the subject's persona to his/her own end. For example, Sally Mann (one of my favorite photographers) in her <em>At Twelve</em> series surely showed, wonderfully, the "face" of those children. However, I can't think that the "objective" of those pictures was not Mann's. I am similarly affected by Avedon's portraits and Goldin's work and so on. [in no way do I mean this as criticism! I just thinking about what I'm getting from their pictures.]</p>

<p>Maybe Jaccques Henri Lartigue's pictures of his family are "conditon" and both photographer and subject's "objective" in unison?</p>

<blockquote>

<p>In other words, I seem to feel that, almost by definition, if the "condition" has been so effectively employed to make a good picture, then the (good) photographer must have hi-jacked the "condtion" that he found in his subject to serve his/her own end. On the other hand, the worse the photograph, the less composed, the less crafted it is, the more likely I am to feel that I am witnessing the "objective" of the subject shown, and not that of the photographer.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>You're talking about two kinds of photographers here, the photographer as observer and the photographer as creator. Besides the two often intertwining, one isn't any more better or lesser than the other.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I have a hard time convincing myself of any examples of pictures where a good photographer was not or did not use the subject's persona to his/her own end</p>

</blockquote>

<p>How about self portraiture, a la Cindy Sherman, there's no subject to *use*, as the observer ( photographer ) was and is the observed ( subject ), both created equal. The viewer's perception of <em>a persona</em> becomes the subject.</p>

<p>Julie, if you're talking mostly about portraits, I view most portraits as collaborations. Many (including my own) vary in terms of degree . . . sometimes there is more subject, sometimes more Fred, often good doses of both.</p>

<p>Let's take Marlene Dietrich, a famous and remarkable persona and face. She was photographed by some extraordinary photographers. Whose "objective" are we seeing in those portraits? Dietrich's (or at least the persona she wanted to project) for sure. She is unmistakable. There is a consistency of person throughout her many portraits and stills by a variety of photographers. Many of those photographers, experts at their craft, did a great job with her . One can see the differences in the way Von Sternberg, for example, handled her from the way Hurrell and some others handled her. But I certainly don't think any of these great photographers overrode her objectives. Did they use her? Sure. They also paid homage to her. Did she use herself, and them?</p>

<p>A portrait, like most other types of photos, is not necessarily a mirror of reality (and to the extent that it may be a mirror of reality, it is not a one-dimensional or single-perspective reality). A portrait is a new creation of sitter and photographer.</p>

<p>So I'm finding myself not in agreement with the dichotomy you draw in your paragraph starting "I seem to feel . . ." You are saying: the better the photographer, the more we see the photographer's agenda. The worse the photographer, the more we see the subject's. I think it's more complicated and varied than that. And, though the word "hijack" might pertain in some cases, I think the great portrait photographers <em>empathize</em> with their subjects and don't see it as hijacking.</p>

<p><em>"instead of using the 'face' he could try to show, in his pictures, how the subject affected him/her."</em></p>

<p>Perhaps. And a good photographer may also be able to do both . . . and there would likely be no clear mark of distinction.</p>

<p>Some of your questions may be about one of the most fundamental of philosophical issues. Do we always act (<em>must</em> we always act) with self interest or can we truly be magnanimous? I don't think photographs will answer such a question clearly and distinctly any better than any other aspect of life. Are our acts (especially acts toward or about others) always utilitarian in some sense, always meant to satisfy ourselves on some level, or may they proceed with more generosity than that? Is the glass half full or half empty?</p>

<p>The beauty of portraits is that they dance the dance.</p>

<p><em>Addition:</em> A portrait photographer and a sitter may feed off each other and don't have to vie for each other's or the photo's soul.</p>

<p>Phylo,</p>

<p>"Face," in the sense that I'm using it, is not "in" the subject; it's not the same as the subject. As per Goffman's definition that I gave, it's "diffusely located in the flow of events in the encounter and becomes manifest only when these events are read and interpreted for the appraisals expressed in them." The "face" or roles that she inhabits (but which are not "her") are what Sherman works off of. She's playing, exactly, with the "appraisals expressed in them."</p>

<p>Fred,</p>

<p>"Face" is the dance. Face is the conversation. Face happens only with and because of the consent and cooperation of the other people present (and it only exists when other people are present). Which is not to say that all dance, all conversation is in support of face, but what is not is going to be immediately apparent in any social grouping as a break in/from the normal.</p>

<p>Here is some more from Goffman to further hammer his point:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>" ... a person's attachment to a particular face, coupled with the ease with which disconfirming information can be conveyed by himself and others, provides one reason why he finds that participation in any contact with others is a commitment. A person will also have feelings about the face sustained for the other participants, and while these feelings may differ in quality and direction from those he has for his own face, they constitute a involvement in the face of others that is as immediate and spontaneous as the involvement he has in his own face. One's own face and the face of others are constructs of the same order; it is the rules of the group and the definition of the situation which determine how much feeling one is to have for face and how this feeling is to be distributed among the faces involved."</p>

<p>"... Whatever his position in society, the person insulates himself by blindness, half-truths, illusions, and rationalizations. He makes an "adjustment" by convincing himself, with the tactful support of his intimate circle, that he is what he wants to be and that he would not do to gain his ends what the others have done to gain theirs. And as for society, if the person is willing to be subject to informal social control -- if he is willing to find out from hints and glances and tactful cues what his place is, and keep it -- then there will be no objection to his furnishing this place at his own discretion, with all the comfort, elegance, and nobility that his wit can muster for him."</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Because Fred brought her up, I am going to use Marlene Dietrich as a case study in a separate post.</p>

<p>This is from an article, "Appearance and Reality" by Gabriele Annan that first appeared in <em>The New York Review of Books</em> in 1985. It's about the documentary film that Karl Dirka made on Marlene Dietrich:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"... The director chosen by Dirka waas Peter Bogdanovich. Dietrich turned him down because she did not consider him sufficiently famous, and she bullied the reluctant [Maximilian] Schell into directing as well as interviewing her [he was originally hired only for the interviews].</p>

<p>... Dietrich refused to appear in it [the film], and she never does -- except in clips from old movies, newsreels and tapes of her concerts. All you get is her voice on the sound track. Almost the first thing she says is <em>Quatsch</em> -- nonsense. She repeats the word many times during the ninety minute run, and almost a often she says <em>Kitsch</em>.</p>

<p>Also, <em>Dreck</em>. to call her uncooperative would be an understatement.</p>

<p>... Dietrich abhorred the idea of being filmed as an old woman, and possibly she means it more than many stars do when she says private life is nobody's concern, nor even her own: <em>'Ich gehe mich einen Dreck an' </em>-- an idiosyncratic construction which could be loosely translated 'I'm none of my own shitty business.' Her contract, she repeats in answer to Schell's pleading, was to be interviewed, not photographed: 'I've been photographed to death.' She won't even let him film her flat on the avenue Montaigne, and she won't discuss her films. Schell objects that in that case his film won't be very exciting. 'I'm not contracted to be exciting,' she barks.</p>

<p>... As for the dialogue between Dietrich and Schell, it is a duel -- a duel in the sun with Dietrich as the bull. It begins with her in the ascendent, ridiculing, teasing, taunting, refusing, denigrating. He has to coax, persuade, argue, threaten. Gradually, her nihilism gets under his skin, though he remains silky, the emollient Austrian baritone contrasting with her Prussian snarl. Like an experienced bullfighter, he shows off her ferocity until the moment of putting in the first barb. Then he asks her where in Berlin she was born. She can't remember. But she must remember the name of the street where she lived with her parents. <em>Quatsch</em>, of course not; and anyway, who cares? At this point the screen shows a selection of possible residences in pre-war Berlin. It begins with drearily proletarian tenements ...</p>

<p>... By dwelling on her implausible amnesia about her childhood, Schell makes the first crack in Dietrich's official self-portrait.</p>

<p>[ ... skippping ahead ... ] ... She gets more and more rattled. 'You should go back to Mama Schell and learn some manners,' she snaps. He hounds her on deceptions. Why does she say she grew up an only child when there is a photograph of her with her sister who was only a year older? Why does she suppress Friedrich Hollander, who wrote the songs and played the piano in <em>The Blue Angel</em>, [ ... and so on and so on ... ]</p>

<p>... Schell ... uses his knowledge of what is closest to her heart when he moves in for the kill. It is 1945; a camera flies over Berlin; acre after acre of ruins fills the screen, limitless stretches of desolation. Meanwhile the city's pre-war street songs creep stealthily on to the sound track. Dietrich begins to hum along, entranced by examples of Berlin humour in the lyrics. <em>'Himmlisch, nicht</em>?' (Divine, isn't it?), she half chuckles, half sobs. Her voice begins to go out of control; it weaves over the sound track like a drunk across the pavement.</p>

<p>Schell delivers the final thrust. He begins to recite a poem -- a very bad poem ...</p>

<p>[ ... skipping over how he gets her to cry ... ] ... Here Dietrich bursts into uncontrollable sobs. It makes an effective ending. Shocking. As shocking as a bullfight when the bull is old. It is not just another performance; not appearance, but reality.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That's an ugly example, with it's fight/kill language, but would the end have been better if Dietrich's reaction had been reached by wheedling and persuasion? Or would it be better to have left her "face" intact?</p>

<p>That was some writing. Geez...It would have been different to have left her face intact, hard to say without the 2nd example whether it would have been better or worse. Maybe just another version.<br>

This face is more like 'interface' or dynamics at the boundary layer between people.</p>

<p><strong>Julie - </strong>I don't think you're seeing either the photographer's or subject's "face", but a kind of equation between the two.</p>

<p>Come on, yo. This face thing is nothing but a mask just seating there waiting to be riped off.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>"A (the) face is meaning, and meaning without context"</p>

</blockquote>

<p><em>"Le visage est signification, et signification sans contexte". </em><br>

<em>(<em>Ethique et infini (1982)</em>, Emmanuel Levinas<br /></em></p>

<p>Almost, Anders. Almost but not quite. It's not "context" but "history." Meaning without history.</p>

<p>Think of a fossil ... No, wait, let me go back before that.</p>

<p>Yesterday I was feeling the same as Luis's "Geez ..." about the Dietrich tear-down. Luis seemed to me to be right that what we get ought to be a meeting in the middle, but I couldn't see a photo as being some sort of mutant, mongrel mash-up "equation between the two." Strenuous efforts to find a "real" face behind Goffman's "face" left me with nothing but vapors. What is there after you take away all a person's context, when you rip off Ilia's mask? Smoke and mirrors?</p>

<p>Well, duh -- took me all day to realize I was making a mistake in *kind.* Goffman's "face" is in-between; it's not "in" the person. The person is standing there in front of me all the time -- it's the <em>biological</em> being that I want to find in a photo. I want muscle, tendon, pores, wrinkles, hairs, snot, sweat, spit, tears; SKIN and living fullness. These things *are* the subject's; they are not in or of Goffman's "face" and these things are what I want to see, to get to find in a photograph. I want the biological, not the historical/social. Two different *kinds* of thing; not fashioned from the same stuff.</p>

<p>But, I hear all of you immediately scolding me that the historical/social can never be left out. True, but that seems to me (for me) to be something I look through or past as frame/coordinates/orientation; that it's necessary but holds only a referential framing amount of my attention. I *can* enjoy a picture with a minimal or even no Goffman-face content. Goffman's "face" is how the/a face or person's flesh is made (fashioned) to carry the (informational) load of history. The coordinates of interaction through time; necessary for inter-action, but not for (solo) being/action.</p>

<p>Which brings me back to fossils. A way to explain this for those confused by my (as usual) deranged posting, think of a fossil embedded in some geological formation. To an anthropologist, the context, the exact geological layer both laterally and vertically in which that fossil is found (equivalent to Goffman's "face") is essential. A fossil found out of context is nearly worthless, historically, at least. BUT, but, but ... the fossil alone, within its context, but even without its context, is a treasure trove of information/revelation about what that creature was like. Forensic anatomists can do amazing things.</p>

<p>Fast-forward to the living, lived-in present. Think of us, here now as anthropologists on the "other side" of history. We don't have the distance of geological history that the anthropologist working with fossils has, but we have all the information that he is missing. We know all the stuff that he/she has to work out from the fossil; what the being looked like, acted like -- time is wide and fluid, has not hardened into a few inches of granite per million years. Think of photographers as anthropologists on the other side of history. And that's as far as I've gotten. Still thinking about this ...</p>

<p>Julie, I think Goffman is blending personality and a person's ability to manage information about himself projected to others in the real world. He calls this personal public presentation "face." Face is what others "see" when they try to understand you. His point seems to be that you can understand that another person is nearby interacting with you, but, no matter what, a lot of information about that person remains hidden. This is doubtless to be equally true whether you have a camera with you or not.</p>

<p>Goffman does not address deliberate acting, posturing, and other efforts to manipulate another person that demonstrate an artificial self in the material you quoted. All of these things serve to hide the nature of the current interaction as well as to make it nearly impossible to understand the true purpose behind it. Deceptions such as "I want to be your friend so I can rob you!" do not appear to be the subject of his observations.</p>

<p>Much of photography and portraiture is all about acting of one sort or another. As someone else said earlier, many pictures are a collaborative effort for making an image that is not necessarily native to either the subject or the photographer. Art and imagination come into play. That is, many images create a fiction rather than a profound statement of the subject's purpose in life.</p>

<p>I have come to believe that the Existential assertion about the absurdity of life can be seen in the everyday world around us which is filled with many thousands of details with no explanations at all. That is, it is impossible to know where the objects we see every day came from or who put them there. What makes this sort of thing absurd is that it should be no problem to find the story behind the ad in my mailbox, but it designed to persuade me to buy something, not to tell me how it was produced and how my name was chosen to receive it. It makes no sense that simple things are impossible. </p>

<p>Well then, how about complicated things? How is one to understand another person? It makes sense that one ought to be able to discern and present the "real truth" found in another person, doesn't it? Julie, you are right. You cannot tell where the real person lies when you see him in a photograph. But then you would not be able to recognize it if you met him in person either. The image is exactly what it looks like to you. The reason for using suggestive objects, poses and symbols in pictures is to provide a context to stack the deck in favor of you getting some message or purpose for the picture he wants you to see.</p>

<p>Doesn't this concern for discovering the real inner workings of a person's mind go beyond the capabilities found in photography? How much can the appearance of a person caught in an instant of time tell you anyway? See what I mean by the absurd? It makes no sense that you don't get more from a picture. For as little as you get, you might as well spare yourself the trouble of asking the question in the first place.</p>

<p>Albert,</p>

<p>We posted at almost the same time and I've just read yours. I'll be mulling what you've posted all day. (I love mulling ...) Thank you. Just from one quick read-through, I feel that what you've written is very close to how I was feeling all day yesterday while trying to get to the "real" face behind Goffman's. It was ... scary to, for a while, at least, not find anything solid there to stand on. (I mean this seriously; photography matters to me.)</p>

<blockquote>

<p>"A person may be said to <em>have</em>, or <em>be in</em>, or <em>maintain</em> face when the line he effectively takes presents an image of him that is internally consistent; that is supported by judgments and evidence conveyed by other participants, and that is confirmed by evidence conveyed through impersonal agencies in the situation."<br /> ---<br /> I think Goffman is blending personality and a person's ability to manage information about himself projected to others in the real world. He calls this personal public presentation "face." Face is what others "see" when they try to understand you. His point seems to be that you can understand that another person is nearby interacting with you, but, no matter what, a lot of information about that person remains hidden.</p>

</blockquote>

<p> Reminds me of the novel <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One,_No_one_and_One_Hundred_Thousand">Uno, Nessuno e Centomila ( One, No one and One Hundred Thousand )</a>.</em></p>

<p>Phylo, you just saved my Christmas, isolated at home and surrounded by snow storms. I have never read that masterpiece of Pirandello although I know it is somewhere on my shelves. Now is the moment.</p>

<p>Phylo, precisely For a further example that describes exactly that, see <a href="http://unrealnature.wordpress.com/2010/10/17/the-sweet-guilt-of-conspirators/">here.</a></p>

<p>The living, biological being is in the present. The skin doesn't look one way. It depends on how excited the person is, how sweaty, etc. But it also carries history with it. Genetics, the effects of diet, smoking, booze, anxiety, happiness, too much tanning, etc. These things are inseparable. One is mercurial, the other is fixed. Both are everpresent in the person and the photograph.</p>

<p>"A fossil found out of context is nearly worthless, historically, at least."</p>

<p>Like the living, it carries its own history. It may not be as readable or dense as if you found it in situ, but a lot of it is there. It also carries a more shared kind of history, as we all do.</p>

<p>Are we really ersatz anthropologists? Maybe some documentarians would qualify, but I don't know if all of us fit under that rubric. Worse, most photographers are working out of antiquated, trite, beat-to-death ideas, fewer in the present, and fewer still, but significant, are the emissaries from the future, the people whose work is presently invisible to all but a tiny group and will begin to be generally understood 10+ years from now. We don't know everything the anthropologist doesn't, or even that which everybody living in the present knows, although I get, at least partially, the point Julie is driving at.</p>

<p><strong>Julie - </strong>"Goffman's "face" is how the/a face or person's flesh is made (fashioned) to carry the (informational) load of history. The coordinates of interaction through time; necessary for inter-action, but not for (solo) being/action."</p>

<p>G-Face also involves the present...and in a photograph, it's the result of an interaction occurring at the boundary between two of those G-faces. Two histories and present (state) beings meeting, and each photograph contains a little of both, in fixed proportions, though that varies from one picture to another. </p>

<p> </p>

<p><strong>Julie - "</strong>What is there after you take away all a person's context, when you rip off Ilia's mask?"</p>

<p>Another mask. It's masks all the way down. :-)</p>

<p>"It's masks all the way down. :-) " - Luis</p>

<p>You mean it's snotty, sweaty, hairy, masked turtles (with taste) all the way down???!! Thank goodness for Photoshop.</p>

<p>[i'll be answering your post-before-that-one in the morning; it's incubating at the moment ... ]</p>

I really hesitate to enter this discussion because I think that much of these discussions revolve around semantics. However, I was posted to Tainan, Taiwan in 1960 and had a role in dealing with both the military and civilians there. I quickly learned about what the Taiwanese and Chinese termed "face". It is essentially synonymous with "honor" and they talk about one's face in an open way. What was important to learn in negotiation was to leave others with honor and not too humiliate your counterpart; in other words to always leave to other person's dignity intact or with their "face". Face is, of course very important in Japan where preserving face or honor was on many occasions the key to staying alive. Losing "face" is something to be avoided in these cultures. We found in actual fact that it was important to be very cautious about using the common tactics here in the US of debasing and humiliating political opponents. This was not cultural practice then in Taiwan even though human nature being what it is this covered some pretty unsavory activities. This is a cultural practice that we could emulate more here. I think the concept of "face" in oriental cultures is as old as some of these civilizations and far older than other current definitions.. As far as photography goes I did a lot of faces for a newspaper and weddings and in my own photo studio. As far as face goes I would do almost anything to avoid a blank face. That means establishing some kind of a bond, even if fleeting with the subject in order to provoke a smile, a look of surprise or sagacity or delight or anger just to try to look inside the subject. I have tried to do anything to avoid bland pictures. A week ago I shot a couple hundred or more pictures at a very large swim meet. A lot of them were head shots. I wanted and got reactions that led away from blank, posed stares at the lens. This IMO is all about "face". I know there is somebody in there and I want to see just a glimpse of who that is.

<p><strong>Julie - "</strong>You mean it's snotty, sweaty, hairy, masked turtles (with taste) all the way down???!!"</p>

<p>I missed that party, but that's the rumor.</p>

<p>The more I think about the term and specific ideas behind "face" (as presented here), the less I like them. Why co-opt a word that has an already fine and useful meaning to communicate what seems to be a rather fuzzy concept?</p>

<p><em>" . . . not lodged in or on his body."</em></p>

<p>And so here we have a de facto dualist, who can't seem to imagine that a face is actually a physical thing yet can play a profound role. He has to move it out of the realm of body in order to appropriate it to a level of philosophical significance. Big mistake.</p>

<p>The thing about a face is that it's physical, it's surface, and it even has elements of being superficial. Which are all OK by me. There are deep truths in all those places.</p>

<p>Albert sums something up beautifully when he says:</p>

<p><em>"[M]any images create a fiction rather than a profound statement of the subject's purpose in life."</em></p>

<p>I would only add that this kind of fiction can hold great truths. There is also a sense of truth and purpose that, for me, rises above "accuracy."</p>

<p> </p>

<p>Face, in the sense that Goffman uses it has a long history of usage; "saving face" and "losing face" have been around longer than "photography."</p>

<p>As Dick Arnold has described in detail, Goffman's kind of face (I'll use Luis's "G-face" from here on) is everywhere. It is the currency of society. Every face-to-face encounter deals in its denominations. It has started wars, caused murders and marriages, elected presidents and justified imprisonment and torture. It's documentation/presentation/certification is the central interest of wedding, portrait, and event photography; it's failures and conflicts the subject of photojournalism and documentary photography.</p>

<p>Artist's do creatively work against G-face -- and I'm happy that they do. For example, here is a description of a Bruce Naumann installation:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>… In the 1990s [bruce] Nauman monumentalized the inversion of the human axis in his video installations. Collaborating with Rinde Eckert, he combined inversion with playacting, plainchant vocals, and Wittgensteinian language games in two multichannel video installation, <em>Anthro/Socio (Rinde Facing Camera)</em> (1991) and <em>Anthro/Socio (Rinde Spinning)</em> (1992). In almost a travesty of traditional anthropological and ethnographic systems of faciality, giant close-ups of Rinde dominate the monitors and projections, some turned upside down and some spinning while chanting, “Help me, hurt me sociology; Feed me, eat me anthropology.” Nauman’s self-portrait entitled <em>Raw Material: Brrr …</em> (1990), a two-channel video and two-channel sound installation featuring a large projection and two monitors stacked atop one another, is particularly poignant. The artist’s face is presented at ninety degrees to the vertical, shaking from side to side, and regressively stammering the primal sound “brrr,” the beginning letters of his first name and perhaps a reference to his neon work <em>My Name as though It Were Written on the Surface of the Moon</em> (1968). German critic Ursula Frohne has described <em>Raw Material: Brrr …</em> in the following terms:</p>

<p>"Caught in an incurable fixation of self-expression, it seems to bear witness to the overwhelming inner conflicts that are carried out in the unconscious. Its behavior is reminiscent of a catatonic’s convulsions and involuntary contractions, compulsive symptoms that are the result of a psychic instability manifested as physical reactions."</p>

<p>In Frohne’s scenario, even catatonics convulse (a clinical impossibility) while conflicts rage within and the psyche is destabilized. The face, the primal voice, and the inner torments of the artist become little more than agitated “raw material” stretched across the horizontal , exteriority and interiority united in portraying the barely utterable, the unnameable.</p>

<p>Across the horizontal of contemporary culture, the face’s features are now scattered and strewn along an entropic terrain of the mind, soul, and psyche. Nothing coheres; even the landscape has become fractured and fragmented, and Cartesian space is eradicated. Body parts are disassembled, their scales shifted; perspectives are dissolved into myriad viewpoints, and language reduced to grunts and shrieks.<br>

[Above is from <em>Ghost in the Shell: Photography and the Human Soul, 1850-2000</em> by Robert A. Sobieszek (1999)] </p>

</blockquote>

<p>Or, in a negative strain, you get this from Max Kozloff:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"… Many nineteenth- and twentieth-century photographers were actually not hostile to the face; they merely isolated the facial sign by treating it as a mask. Medical, criminal, and ethnographic portraits; Adolphe-Eugéne Disderi, the creator of cartes-de-visite; Lászó Moholy-Nagy, Robert Mapplethorpe, idealists of light or muscle; Annie Leibovitz’s celebrity shots; Nancy Burson and Keith Cottingham virtuosi of face-altering computer manipulation: stylistically, these have little enough in common. Yet conceptually, they exhibit a weird solidarity. For time and again, they determine the role of the face while characteristically disregarding its owner. A certain absence brings them together, an absence of inquisitiveness about the one before the camera. The light was on in their house of physiognomy, but no one was there."</p>

</blockquote>

<p> <br>

I am interested in how "face" is used in all of the above; it hangs there, whether used, respected or ignored as the channel that connects.</p>