The role of desire in photography?

<p>Recently, I was asked what I meant when I said I found a photo "compelling."</p>

<p>My answer had something to do with my finding a connection to the photo. I was saying that my feeling connected to a photo as photo could be very different from feeling connected to the subject or content of the photo.</p>

<p>But, as I thought about it more, I sort of hit upon <em>desire</em>. That a "compelling" photo aroused in me some sort of desire.</p>

<p>Desire might seem like some sort of emotion but it's also a physical or sense matter. Hunger is a desire. So is sex, IMO. That's why I used the word "arousal" in referring to desire. Not to limit it to sexual desire, of course, but to associate it with the senses, which I think are significant to my relationship to photos . . . not just senses but sensuous-ness.</p>

<p>I guess I also think I may engage in the act/process of photographing out of a sense of desire . . . even longing. For what, I'm not sure. Not sure there's a goal there or a particular object of that desire. Let's say the object of my desire is obscure.</p>

<p>Desire kind of has a nice sense of propulsion for me, continuity, movement or motion. Feels like it comes from within and moves toward without (though it can also move further in . . . why not?).</p>

<p>And it does seem also to have a sense of potential and potential connection.</p>

<p>First sentence from an article in last week's <em>Economist</em> magazine:</p>

 

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<p>"Held in a hostel for migrant workers, Palestinians who have fled Syria's civil war pass their days exchanging pictures on their mobile phones of the corpses of relations who failed to get out."</p>

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<p>I'd say it's more 'need' than 'desire.' Desire seems kind of ornamental; optional.</p>

<p>Julie, how does that quote tell me that it is need, rather than desire? Can you (or the Economist, a noted authority on the subject matter) read their minds? Do you know what drives them to exchange photos, in their bizarre and terrifying situation?<br>

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Fred, your OP makes a lot of sense to me. Desire seems a very fitting word indeed, and words like longing, wanting, urge all fit in quite well into it. I know every now and then I have this feeling I must go out and take photos, like I am missing seeing things through a viewfinder. I don't know why, and since it's all rather harmless, I do not actively try to find out why. Usually, such days, I return with photos I quite like myself. Like the urge also pushes me to say what I want to say better in my photos.</p>

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<p>Feels like it comes from within and moves toward without (though it can also move further in . . . why not?).</p>

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<p>I'd say it movement inside is there, while the movement toward without is a "maybe/why not?". The movement outward is more a play between several factors, not all coming from that desire (the viewer being independent enough), not all necessarily a logical consequence of it. <br />Speaking for myself, photos shot from these 'rushes of desire' are photos I do feel more emotionally connected to, and which to me reflect a state of mind more than many other photos I make. But that state of mind is not always "inclusive" - it can be an active avoidance of others too. I would not be surprised if people would find many of those images distanced, unengaged, cold, unengaging, empty (yup, they're not necessarily shot during happy days).<br>

The outward movement, well, I do share these photos, but my own valuation of them is more disconnected from the opinion of others than it is with most others I share (here or elsewhere). Maybe because I knew the desire that drove them, and when I think I came close to nailing it, then any communication value they have towards others just becomes secondary to me. Desire, after all, can also be very egoistical.</p>

<p>I have a 16 lb. orange tabby cat named Schrodinger who when picked up or shooed from where he wants to be is able to turn on what I call 'supergravity', apparently tripling his weight. Desire is like that, and sometimes the gravity is pulling on something we cannot detect. <br>

Sometimes I think that it is not so much a clear-cut objective, but a mystery/the unknown that exerts a pull on me. And desire is but one form of connection, and often intertwines with need all too seamlessly. </p>

<p>The visual connects very effectively with emotions. I feel desire when I see some photographs, a common response no doubt for many. The subject of those desires are multiple, including what the french call "la photographe de charme", the sensual representation of a very attractive human being, as suggested as much as illustrated (déjà vu type of mechanical appearing nudity is not normally in that category), the texture of snow or sand or a rainfall that makes me want to be there, the undulating fields of rural France or Italy or Britain that create a desire to visit and sense, the simple uncomplicated but aesthetic images of everyday things that I particularly relate to, are part of that desire as expressed as a viewer.</p>

<p>Desire as a photographer manifests itself when I feel excitement at being in a crowd of persons who are present at an event that I can easily subscribe to, with the potential of capturing some images of their actions. It is also the desire to return to places where I have pre-digested some of the possibilities of photographing them and desire to return and complete my ideas of images, hopefully under the lighting conditions that permit achieving what I have in mind. Desire is also the sight of a particular early morning or late evening lighting and the vision of some subject matter once ignored but now seen in a compatible light that incites new responses to making a photograph. Exploring a new idea of subject, composition, lighting, and intentional modification (blur, out of focus, new vantage point, fllter use, unusual angle or setting for a portrait) is often accompanied by desire. Wanting to communicate to the viewer something significant about a particular subject matter engages my desire. The desire to photograph something in an as yet to be explored manner by me and in an original way is also compelling. Coming upon a special and unexpected image possibility creates a spontaneous desire. The extent of desire is varied. These are but a few examples for me. </p>

<p>P.S. Luis, I love your example of supergravity. My equally heavy and sorely missed cat had the same supernatural ability and desire to stay put. </p>

<p>Wouter, the "without" I was thinking of wasn't the viewer, though that's an interesting road to take. It was more the object, the photo (more than the subject of the photo), the manifestation, the sensual or sensed part of the experience. For me, desire may be a motivation but it's also a result. When I look at a "good" photo, it stimulates desire in me. Of course, that's a result but also a launching pad. It does sometimes feel like a desire to be outside myself. What does it mean to desire someone or something? Can that be a move outward?</p>

<p>Luis, yes, I think we have similar experience of the object of desire being obscure. And I agree that desire intersects with need. I tried to suggest that by talking about hunger, which the body needs for sustenance. </p>

<p>Arthur, our posts crossed. Thanks for offering your examples, which I will ponder.</p>

<p>Luis, the name of your cat will make for easy jokes now on "dead weight"....</p>

<p>Fred, I was a bit in doubt whether I read the outward without well.</p>

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<p>that's a result but also a launching pad</p>

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<p>True... and any learning process needs its harsh painful failures, and its glory moments (even if both can go unshared). Seeing those good photos and wanting more of that, to me is a 'glory moment' in learning, and a notification to start pushing my limits a bit more.<br />But, reversing a bit your last post: how can desire not be a launching pad? Desire is there for what we do not have at that very moment - else there would be satisfaction. Desire is wanting the missing thing bad enough - and following desires (be it conscious, be it unconscious) means action, changing the current status (= moving outward of myself) into the desired one. These are the main reasons I liked the word in this contest - it's the driving force behind learning and growing.<br>

There are areas of photography where I just don't get the hang off well enough - portraits for example. But I also feel little desire there, so I don't really push myself across my borders to get better. Maybe it all sounds awfully simple what I say, but I think it is maybe actually that simple, for once ;-)</p>

<p>Wouter, hmmm. I'm not sure we're on the same wavelength. (Not that we have to be, of course.)</p>

<p>To start, the only reason I said "launching pad" is because I mentioned that desire could be the result of looking at a photo, and a result is usually an end, so I wanted to be sure that everyone realized I wasn't misunderstanding desire.</p>

<p>The desire I had in mind, though, wasn't seeing more good photos or making more good photos, if I'm reading you right. It is a lust for something sparked by the photo itself, emotion, description, connection, etc. Not for more good pictures or how I could make more good ones or what I could learn from this one, but just the awakening of desire in me, by looking at the photo. For me, it was less about the desire to photograph and more about the desire produced by one.</p>

<p>When I was an adolescent, I might often awaken with an erection, a sexual desire, even if it weren't pointed (pun intended) toward anyone or anything in particular. I simply had a sexual desire that could have been fulfilled in any number of ways. It's kind of like that . . . the sensuousness of the desire itself . . . the physicality of it . . . the being in touch with that state . . . regardless of its object and regardless of "for what."</p>

<p>By the sensation of desire when you see certain photos, do you mean that you in a way are being 'charged' by the photo, Fred? Like I have said before, I think they emit energy.</p>

<p>Ann, for me, it's a kind of charge or energy that has the sense of incompleteness . . . that there is something more . . . something I do not yet get but can grasp at, feeling that I will (or at least may) get it but haven't yet. That feeling that there is something just out of reach.</p>

<p>Fred, its the opposite for me. I find photos to be compelling when there is a sense of completeness, a delicate tension between balance and imbalance, which creates, as I have mentioned before, energy, as Ann refers to. Too much "balance" and the photo becomes boring and cliched and low energy, too much "imbalance" is distracting and the energy is too scattered. Desire? Only the desire for this tension and delicate balance. </p>

<p>The pictures I gravitate toward most are ones where I feel completely immersed in its content. It's like watching a favorite movie multiple times and never giving a thought to its cinematography. </p>

<p>Sometimes the object of desire is so close you can brush against and/or taste it. A few days ago, a beloved local artist, leader in the arts community, a painter, and friend passed away. I covered the community's response to this. My desire was to do it justice, be accurate and truthful. I knew most of the people involved. If I closed my eyes and pursed my lips I could almost kiss what I wanted, but of course it proved elusive. What I initially thought I wanted was superseded by revelations along the way.</p>

<p>In my native tongue there is a word used that translates into "comply", but it means more than that. The way my mother used it meant to <em>complete </em>or <em>make good. </em> In the end it proved a nearly impossible task. My desire and the apparent proximity to its object engaged in a kind of danse, and the photographs like one long and blurred exposure of that performance. My readers told me they liked the photos, that they were beautiful. In the end I followed all my hunches, wandered around aimlessly, and some of those pictures served me best.</p>

<p>At the funeral, I noticed two of them had been "lifted" for the now obligatory slide show at the service. I felt honored.<br>

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<p>I do not desire a particular balance with photographs, mine or anyone else's. Each one is a small infinity in its own right, a universe with its own laws. Think of a see-saw with a movable fulcrum. With equal weights, balance is with the fulcrum at the middle, but with different weights, balance can be almost anywhere, not that it's <em>required.</em><br>

<em> </em><br>

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<p>[sideboard]<br>

That slide show at P's funeral was heartbreaking... to see snapshots of my deceased friend's life compressed from his first to the last days. Through the pain and tears once again I felt the power of the snapshot --- and many included the usual "mistakes" so many are desperate to avoid.</p>

<p>Fred, I think the late hour made my choice of words a bit more muddy and my thinking lob-sided; I think we're quite on the same wavelength. The kind of desire you describe coming from a photo, I do recognise. Sorry to not have been very clear on that (though I think the desire/learning-cycle I refered to is equally there, important, but probably not as sensual - more like waking with an erection and thinking of your highschool teacher - exit erection, back to doing homework).<br>

I need to order thoghts a bit on it, it's fleeting thoughts and ideas at the moment. Interesting subject, though. I'like bringing up completeness in this context, ... the word passion creeps into my mind too.<br>

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Luis, my condelences for your loss.</p>

<p>"You must learn, Grasshopper, that desire is unquenchable, therefor rid yourself of it."</p>

<p>H.P., in reading about desire, I noticed there are some Buddhist traditions and Christian traditions that frown on desire and indulging desire, especially particular kinds of desire. (In some forms of Buddhism, liberation is achieved by stopping the flow of sense desire and nurturing what is referred to as skillful desire.) I, on the other hand, find your quote a <em>non sequitur</em>. I wouldn't get rid of something simply because it is unquenchable and doubt I could even if I wanted to, which I don't. Having said that, I can certainly recognize there are good desires for me and bad ones. It's up to me to sort those out. As to the more Christian refusals of desire, I think such refusals are often just plain silly (not always, of course) and, as we see time and again with priests who "stifle" themselves into pedophilia and "family" guys who wind up in bathroom stalls, the attempt to avoid desire can be unrealistic and even harmful.</p>

<p>Wouter, there was this one high school teacher, the first male teacher I had who ever wore jeans, and well . . . er . . .</p>

<p>Steve, more power to you! I like ending up with a question and an itch. There are, of course, times I do stop to rest, feeling at least accomplished if not complete.</p>

<p>Luis, "elusive" paints a nice picture. </p>

<p>There can be a little bit of the bad boy in desire . . . desiring what's forbidden. No coincidence that some religions, therefore, see desire as a problem . . . (and perhaps at least part of why I'm drawn to it).</p>

<p>The desire told by Luis is something that doesn't occur very often but which is something that can bring out the best in us despite the difficult task it addresses. My condolences to Luis as well. My best friend 15 years ago unexpectedly succumbed to a heart attack while we warmed up on a tennis court. Resuscitation was to no avail and I later learned from his medical doctor brother who came over from India that Ajit had a heart defect. Desire takes many forms and the desire to talk again with my former friend in the relaxed and explorative manner that once existed will probably always be there. Desire is a lever on our thoughts and a precursor to our actions. Photography is not alone as a communicative medium in benefitting from it. A snapshot can be made memorable through its presence. </p>

 

<p>The sensation of desire, if it is strong enough, would make one act, I believe.</p>

<p>When it is related to photography, enjoying photographs that other have made, might create a sensation so strong that we run off to buy equipment, load ourselves up with gear and start chasing that dream that this sensation of desire has created in us. It has sparked a dream and maybe a vision of how we want to express ourselves. If acted upon, and if one is willing to do the hard work, the dream might come through. I believe, that if the sensation of desire is not strong enough, the dream will not come through. Even if you work hard to make it happen. I think the creative part is dependent on how strong the desire is.</p>

<p>How often have we not heard people say in the media that 'this is a dream come through'. I believe most of those people were driven by a strong sense of desire in the first place. A desire is an emotion, and emotions seem to be creating motion. You get in motion, and you find yourself creating your dream. IMO it is all about energy. Everything is energy, energy can not disappear, it can only change form. And since everything is energy, everything is interrelated, even though it doesn't feel that way to most people most of the time.<br /> <br /> And Luis, my condolences to you. The funeral must have been beautiful. I hope it brought you some kind of comfort or release. Take care.</p>

<p>Gæd knows, Fred - I try hard not to be ironic beyond the measure but if you put *internal* before *desire* and then abbreviate it in to *ID* you may find you self on a pretty well known *terrain*, repeatedly charted, left and right.</p>

<p>And, yes - they shoot DBs. Often, repeatedly. What does that tells you?</p>

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<p>"To look at a photograph beyond a certain period of time is to court a frustration: the image which on first looking gave pleasure has by degrees become a veil behind which we now desire to see. It is not an arbitrary fact that photographs are deployed so that we do not look at them for long; we use them in such a manner that we may play with the coming and going of our <em>command</em> of the scene/(seen) (an official of a national museum who followed visitors with a stop-watch found that an average of 10 seconds was devoted by any individual to any single painting -- about the average shot-length in classic Hollywood cinema).</p>

<p>"To remain long with a single image is to risk the loss of our imaginary command of the look, to relinquish it to that absent other to whom it belongs by right -- the camera. The image then no longer receives our look, reassuring us of our founding centrality, it rather as it were avoids our gaze, confirming its allegiance to the other. As alienation intrudes into our captivation by the image we can, by averting our gaze or turning a page, reinvest our looking with authority. (The "drive to master" is a component of scopophilia, sexually based pleasure in looking.)"<br>

-- <em>Victor Burgin (1977)</em></p>

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<p>A special note of thanks to everyone for your condolences.</p>

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<p>Many of us remain long with images on our walls and those elsewhere. To fixate on one single image, as Barthes did with the snap of his mother, lends credence to the saying that 'anything looked at long enough becomes everything' -- and perhaps via habituation, sometimes flickering into nothing at all.</p>

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<p>Throwing out a few loose thoughts on this... desire serves both as connection and motivation to make further connections. It can be thought of as an analog of gravity, a connecting force pulling between things, some of which may not even be known, or maybe as building a suspension bridge to a distant, perhaps invisible shore. An act of faith? The idea of gravity appeals to me in the sense of, as the saying goes, 'that which you are seeking is also seeking you'.</p>

 

<p>It ("desire") is a reifiying word for a non-thing; it's a solipsistic circling.</p>

<p>Obstacles create desire; desire creates obstacles. (What is an obstacle? Something that prevents you from fulfiling a desire. What is a desire? Something from which you are barred by some kind of obstacle. Absent desire there is no obstacle; absent obstacles there is no desire.)</p>

<p>[i know better than to do this, but...]<br /><br /> <br /> de·sire (d<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/ibreve.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />-z<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/imacr.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />r<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/prime.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />)<br>

<em>tr.v.</em> <strong>de·sired</strong>, <strong>de·sir·ing</strong>, <strong>de·sires</strong> <strong>1. </strong> To wish or long for; want. <strong>2. </strong> To express a wish for; request. <em>n.</em> <strong>1. </strong> A wish or longing. <strong>2. </strong> A request or petition. <strong>3. </strong> The object of longing: My greatest desire is to go back home. <strong>4. </strong> Sexual appetite; passion.<br>

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<p>Hmm...says nothing about being barred by obstacles. While I understand what Julie is driving at, I guess one would have to consider any form of absence, physical distance and/or time an obstacle.<br>

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<p>ob·sta·cle (<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/obreve.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />b<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/prime.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />st<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/schwa.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />-k<img src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/schwa.gif" alt="" align="absbottom" />l) <em>n.</em> One that opposes, stands in the way of, or holds up progress.<br>

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<p>I do not consider simple, easily traversed distance/time spans or processes <em>obstacles.</em> If I desire a new lens, and the only thing separating that from happening is a few keystrokes to the B&H site, is that <em>really </em>an obstacle?</p>

<p>I realize that desire in a romance novel, dramatic script or epic foundation myth objects of desire often do involve titanic obstacles, that is not always the case. It's not required, though it sounds good, almost worthy of a French theoretician.</p>