We are what we see

<p>Or, if you prefer, in a similar sense, but one step removed in the mental process, is a similar expression: "We are what we photograph".</p>

<p>This came across my mind while thinking about the content of my first invited solo exhibition which I hope to complete to my reasonable satisfaction before it’s opening in late June. The theme, "genius loci", deals with the "spirit of place" and the one where I live. This spirit comes from many sources, material and immaterial, and from both personal feelings and collective ones. The evoking of spirit of place may not be entirely common with the thoughts or feelings of my own community, or of my circle of friends or associates. What I see may tell me as much about myself as it does about my subjects.</p>

<p>"What I see is what I am". Photography for me is in part a discovery of myself or an assertion of what I believe. It is no doubt a part of the age-old question and title of a Gauguin late 19th century painting "Who are we, why are we here, where are we going?" In the more limited (but not necessarily so...) sense I would propose to you "we are what we see". What are your thoughts about this? I may give a few personal examples later on, but for the moment I would rather talk less, and hear more, the thoughts of others.</p>

<p>A lot of my own photographing is a search for and reaching out to others. It's often about their being seen.</p>

<p>Fred, you seem to be using your photography in part to communicate with the other. Does it also reflect on how you see the world about you?</p>

<p>I made an irremedial mistake in my opening OP, which I think is important to correct here. What I meant was "WE ARE HOW WE SEE". What we see is part of how we see I guess, but how we see what we see is really what I meant. That which distinguishes someone's perception of a subject from another's, but really feeds back to the first person valuable information on himself (or herself).</p>

<p>Sure. But first person info about myself is not my emphasis. My emphasis is what can be shared by bringing people (the subjects of my photos) into the light. I'm less interested in what distinguishes one person's perception of a subject from another's than in how, through photographic perceptions, we can share a lot of things and find commonality. Someone else can always take that and try to turn it back on me, me, me. And there will be some validity to that, I suppose. Like I say, it's a matter of emphasis. Were I to focus on me, I would probably hope for photography to get me more out of myself.</p>

<p>I would hope that we all have our own unique way of seeing, which gives our photography a personal and unique touch. I don't think about it much. Literally, the visual world just "grabs me" and points out things that I could photograph. I suppose the resulting images say something about the way I see. My favorite (I almost said "best') images come from that place of openness and non-striving awareness. Its a lot like meditation.</p>

<p>We cannot capture everything we see, I believe what one selects to record and the way it is presented (if one is self aware and honest) defines the photographer.</p>

<p>"We are what we see"<br>

Yes. I think you had it right the first time. Similarly, we are what we say. We are what we write. We are what we think. To paraphrase James Allen:<br>

"men do not attract what they want, but what they are"</p>

<p>Every picture I make, regardless of the subject, is a portrait of me.</p>

 

<p>I like to think that an answer to the OP can be found in an experience I've had many times. It has to do with uttering, "That's a photograph!."</p>

<p>So if one likes to see how something looks photographed what does that say about how they see?</p>

<p>There's a lot of unseen, unspoken underpinnings in this regard that can't be parsed or dissected in order to describe ultimately how a photographer sees or what they communicate to the viewer how they see by just looking at their images.</p>

<p>IOW that phrase seems to be too simplistic in describing a photographer's intent within a creative process that has a lot going on in front of the camera and in the photographer's mind and subsequent viewer's perception of the finished work.</p>

<p><A href="http://www.photo.net/photo/18085150&size=lg">guilty</A></p>

<p>The title may have a point, but many of us edit what we see....to create a better visual.</p>

<p>Les</p>

<p>The spirit of a place? Good lord, could they be any more vague? Just another reason why I chose several years ago to no longer participate in exhibitions. Anyway, onto the main subject. It's like this: Every picture we take makes a statement about us. This statement is always the same for all photographers. It says "I believe this is worth recording." It really is as simple as that. When we step out into the world to make photographs the results not only tells what we saw but how we reacted to what we saw. Now others who view anothers' work may feel differently but who are they to say what another photographer should record and how and why? I photograph gay pride parades and protests in favor of marriage equality however I'm not gay myself. Should this be a concern to anyone? I've also photographed political rallies for candidates I didn't agree with and didn't vote for. Big deal. I photograph things that define our culture and time in the here and now. All art springs fourth from this source, it's not separate from life.</p>

<p>Last month I gave a talk to a group of photographers in which I emphasized the importance of embracing spontaneity in photography. I described how much of what I shoot may be considered street photography but I don't describe myself as a street photographer because when I open my front door to head out to shoot, I feel that literally the whole world outside is mine for the picture taking, there's just no way to know where the day will take me. The work I choose to print and present to the outside world just happens to fall into the street photography genera.</p>

<p>So my advice to Arthur and anyone else reading this is to forget all the pointless navel gazing that some photographers seem to like to indulge in. What a waste of time. Just get out and shoot. You'll know before long if you are being true to yourself or not.</p>

<p>Marc wrote: "the results not only tells what we saw but how we reacted to what we saw." No they don't. They just tell us that your index finger twitched on the shutter release button.</p>

<p>Marc wrote: "... forget all the pointless navel gazing ... Just get out and shoot." Agreed. Finger-twitching can ensue without navel gazing.</p>

<p>But <em>Aufheben</em> (to preserve, to negate, to transcend) requires 10,000 hours of concentrated navel gazing. Frequenters of this forum are up to about hour 5,672.</p>

<p>Just as what a reporter finds worth reporting, and the manner in which he reports the news, is a reflection of that reporter's attitudes and values, so the things I find worthy of my photographic efforts, and the manner in which I present them, are a reflection of my attitudes and values as a photographer. This is not to say that my photography is static. Far from it, I hope. As I develop and learn, both as a human being and as a photographer, I expect my photography also to develop. Just as I consider and explore new ideas, understandings, and attitudes, so, too, I hope to experiment with photography.</p>

<p>I believe that what we choose to photograph, how we photograph it, how we process it, and to whom we show it is immutably tied to and reflective of our own attitudes and beliefs. Even when we choose to go outside our normal comfort zones and experiment with new subjects, processes, or themes, doing so is reflective of our willingness to experiment, and to learn/explore new things. Arthur's statement "We are how we see" is and always will remain essentially true, given broad allowance for the dynamic nature of the human condition. </p>

<p>I think there are two aspects to how my work is affected by me being 'me'. One is the personality aspect, which is beyond my control. The other are my personal beliefs and tastes. These are the more conscious elements that influence my work. The pictures in my street folder are a good example of how I am. I am the kind of person who likes to observe from a distance in his own comfort zone. I am not the kind of person who will feel comfortable in close quarters around strangers, specially when pointing a camera. I think my pictures reflect that. More importantly, when I look at the photos, they are the ones who tell me how I am.</p>

<p>I am glad to see that a number of photographers have considered the proposition of the OP, which admittedly is not an easy one to reflect on, but then this is probably the forum for it.</p>

<p>Thanks to <strong>Fred</strong> for his comments which reveal his approach, and which I hope I have adequately responded to. Here are some of my thoughts in regard to the succeeding opinions and feedback on the proposition of “we are what (or how) we see”, with my thanks for your contributions/thoughts.</p>

<p><strong>Phil S.</strong> said “What I am determines what I see, but what I saw (<em>or see</em>) isn’t necessarily what I am.”<br>

In other words, if I may interpret your comment, in the first part of your comment you recognize that the process is related to some aspect of who you are, your view of yourself and the world, and why. In the second part, you state that the product (photograph) may or may not reflect who you are. That is true. If the photographer senses something, like an emotion causing him to photograph some subject, or an emotion resulting from the process of that, it is not necessarily evident in the image, nor does it have to be. If the viewer has similar sensitivities or positions in regard to the photograph he may well discover something about the photographer. </p>

<p>When Weston photographed the pepper, it wasn’t to record the pepper for a food document but to register how he saw other forms suggested by or conforming to the subject, a record of his mind than or his thought process as much as or more than a record of the object.</p>

<p><strong>Steve J,</strong><br>

You sometimes see a link between your image and how you saw your subject(s), although you do not allow that to become a too-conscious or even conscious process. That is in my mind a link to how you see the world about you or at least the process you prefer in describing that.</p>

<p><strong>Sandy,</strong><br>

Do you not think that what one selects to record and the way that process unfolds itself is indeed a case of you being involved in how you see or what you see?</p>

<p><strong>Louis, </strong> an A+ for your global reference. You are right that photography is not an exclusive expressive medium of the way we exist as (or are) both independent and social beings. Writing, café talk, thinking, painting, adopting specific positions or viewpoints, crafting personal greeting cards, and many other things, are all reflections of what we are and how we act.<br>

But we do not often make that link with photography, which is what incited me to present this OP.<br>

<strong>Michael,</strong><br>

I may well have missed your point, unless your implication in the making of the photo is 100% determined by the result. <br>

<strong>Tim,</strong><br>

In showing how something looks when photographed is an effective intention, but I would think also that the result depends on who is doing the seeing and how he or she does that. Otherwise, would we not have a million quasi-identical images of the one subject?<br>

I do agree with you that many things go into the making of an image, some of which can not be controlled fully by the photographer. However, it would be a stretch to suggest that the process of seeing and acting is not perceived, controlled or interpreted by the photographer, and is a function of who he or she is. Those things would seem to me to describe who we are and how we see subjects differently from other photographers. <br>

<strong>Wayne,</strong> your comment in form of a link did not open….so remains for the moment without words (thoughts).<br>

<strong>Leszek</strong>, good point about editing affecting the process or its result , but such post exposure editing is part of the photographer and also his process, which is related I believe to the what, why and how of his personal action, therefore describing him.<br>

<strong>Marc,</strong><br>

Genius loci, which has been around for about three millennia, is hardly a vague notion, although like many other time-resistant concepts it has changed in meaning over time. My original title was “song of place”, but albeit a poetic appeal I rejected it (except as one sub-theme), as it is more limiting than “spirit of place”.<br>

Your note “I believe this is worth recording” is I think not like you say the same motivation for all photographers, at least not in a recording sense. A robotic camera on the streets of London or Paris does recording quite well for non-artistic purposes, but many active photographers eschew the recording motivation for one that is creative. They are then what they perceive.<br>

“Pointless navel-gazing”. That may be your perception and for the simple click-click recording of a scene or other subject, and you are of course free to adopt that view. In some cases it relegates photographic and artistic approaches to a type of “been there, done that” situation.<br>

<strong>Julie and David,</strong><br>

Your comments on the OP recognize that it is not an easy question to explore without skating on the surface or succumbing to glib responses. You avoid that and it would be interesting to see your own images, and those of others that describe how “you are what you see” (seeing being perceiving, and not just looking).<br>

The OP is just a fragment of any more global question of “who are we, why are we (here) and where are we going” that has puzzled mankind since we left gathering and hunting (or maybe before that). But perhaps “we are what we see” may be more reconcilable with our photography, and perhaps also easier to understand than the German philosopher’s “aufheben”, at least in the more obtuse meanings of the latter term. <br>

<strong>Phil and Supriyo,</strong><br>

I just saw your recent comments. Phil, perhaps one can reverse the expression, which I will have to think about. "Sense of place" is often used for "spirit of place", especially by the landscape architects or urban planners. It relates perhaps more to how we sense our surroundings or situation, as opposed to the place having certain qualities that can influence us. </p>

<p>Supriyo, your personal comments are very appreciated as they give specific example of you being in sync with what or how you see (perceive what you photograph). A nice direction....</p>

<blockquote>

<p>In showing how something looks when photographed is an effective intention, but I would think also that the result depends on who is doing the seeing and how he or she does that.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I'm still trying to figure out whether your point "We are what/how we see" is a declarative statement based in fact gleamed or sensed from just looking at photographer's work or just a new way to define how to compare one photographer's personality from another's just by viewing their images.<br>

<br />Personally I don't think there's enough information to make that statement fact or even a viable POV on determining what drives people to photograph the world differently from another. There are too many variables. For example I see a landscape taken of an exotic location that tells me the photographer went to great lengths and expense to capture, but it's nothing remarkable. It's dull, boring and derivative. I'm not going to assume the photographer is a dull and boring person or photographs that way.</p>

<p>Landscapes may not be his/her forte. Their body of work may give me a clue but it still doesn't tell the whole story because I won't know all the other images that didn't make the cut and now it becomes another level of choice outside of seeing, pointing and shooting. Again, another variable to consider.</p>

<p>I would say the viewer of the captured image has more power in defining them self by what they take away from a photographer's work. The photographer may present a consistency in their work that conveys a unique way of seeing and capturing a scene compared to another photographer, but that's just a signature/marker the viewer picks up on. The photographer may or may not be thinking much about what they're doing just out of habit. The viewer isn't going to know that as part of the photographer's way of seeing or how they see.</p>

<p>Using signatures as an analogy, one photographer may sign their name in a scribble style and another may have perfect penmanship. Some sign in a way to be deliberately funny, some to be pretentious and then some to be quick about it because they have to sign a lot of documents like a doctor's prescriptions. The viewer can't know because of all the variables that obscure mindfulness and intent.</p>

<p>Of course the viewer can interpret each signature style individually as pretentious, funny or hurried but it would be by accident and guess work.</p>

<p>From Sergei Eisenstein (if one can equate 'montage' with the 'we are' of the OP):</p>

<p>.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>In front of me lies a crumpled yellowed sheet of paper. On it is a mysterious note:<br>

"Linkage — P" and "Collision — E."</p>

<p>This is a substantial trace of a heated bout on the subject of montage between P (Pudovkin) and E (myself).</p>

<p>This has become a habit. At regular intervals he visits me late at night and behind closed doors we wrangle over matters of principle. A graduate of the Kuleshov school, he loudly defends an understanding of montage as <em>linkage</em> of pieces. Into a chain. Again, "bricks." Bricks arranged in series to expound an idea.</p>

<p>I confronted him with my viewpoint on montage as a <em>collision</em>. A view that from the collision of two given factors arises a concept.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Tim, I also think that the relationship between what the viewer appreciates in an image, and that of the identity, viewpoints or thoughts of the photographer, is not usually or even necessarily evident, unless sometimes when that relationship is clear and has evolved through many images and themes of photography of the photographer.</p>

<p>For me, it is of lesser importance in any case. The OP "we are what we see" was not intended to be some incontrovertible pillar of why we photograph that applies to everyone and every situation. It is simply an opening of awareness or personal questioning of who we (each) are, supported in one aspect of that identity or self-awareness by the "what, why and how" of our individual photographic approaches. I think I prefer to photograph in that way rather than being bound to formula approaches, by guidebooks to photography and art, or what someone else thinks (often, and perhaps unwillingly, a photographer in the spotlight) is important to observe and to photograph, and how.</p>

<p>Julie, I like what I summarily read in your quote from the two debaters. Both "linkage" and "collision" can exist in the personal (auto-) dialogue between what and who we are and what and how we see the subject. Collisions incite innovation. </p>

<p> </p>

<p>There's another way to find a "we" in all this, and the notions of linkage and collision are helpful here as well: the "we" of collaboration, which is often how I think of my photos . . . collaborations with subjects (even non-human ones) and collaborations with viewers and groups of viewers. Again, it feels bigger than me.</p>

I think my relationship with photography has been a transformative process over time. I don't think my early attempts

reflect who I am. I feel, with time an artist identifies his own self through his work, and that's when his/her work gets the

soul it deserves. As Fred suggested, it is bigger than just me, because identifying one's self is finding one's place within

the greater context, seeing the bigger picture. It means, 'This is how I can matter, this is how I can contribute'. Is picture

taking a collaboration? Yes. When I encounter an architectural object, I say 'you are very interesting. Let's see how we

can do justice to one another'. A soul-less photographer would not converse with his subject. He will take a picture using the best possible skills and rules of photography, and move on. When I look back, I feel I acted like one in certain situations in the beginning.

<blockquote>

<p>Tim, I also think that the relationship between what the viewer appreciates in an image, and that of the identity, viewpoints or thoughts of the photographer, is not usually or even necessarily evident, unless sometimes when that relationship is clear and has evolved through many images and themes of photography of the photographer.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>There are old couples who've lived with each other and have communicated deeply and intimately for decades and think they know each other in and out and completely right down to their very soul until one of them gets arrested for being a serial killer all those years hiding in plain sight in the community. You can't deny that as a fact of life. There's documented evidence to prove this.</p>

<p>So I find it hard to believe a relationship can be established by just looking at a photographer's body of work as being any more forthright, true or connected in a meaningful way. Even debaters hide a lot about them self in how they control the narrative of their POV and some aren't even aware of them self doing it. Some debate just to get attention and won't admit it on a delusional level of denial. Debating can replace the gnawing emptiness caused by the knowledge of our own mortality. It's fun! It's really that simple.</p>

<p>I'm getting the feeling the OP overestimates humans and their ability to selectively communicate through photography. The viewer sees or reads more than the photographer really intends but the photographer doesn't know this because the viewer is defining the photographers work to them self. All they're really doing is passing notes in the night. Social media thrives on that concept.</p>

<p>I think good photography is very different from generic social media. And the serial killer who's been married unbeknownst to his wife for decades is pretty rare, so doesn't tell me that much about relationships and intimacy except that there are rare cases where we think we know someone and don't know them very well at all. There are more cases where we learn things we didn't know that are much less drastic than the serial killer scenario.</p>

<p>Tim, I think you make a reasonable point, though you probably take it a bit farther than I would. So, for instance, you mention a relationship through a photographer's body of work as not being forthright, true, or connected. I'd agree on forthrightness and truth. I am looking for neither straightforwardness nor truth in my photographic relationships, whether I be in the role of photographer or viewer. I find photography, for me, more metaphorical than true, sometimes significant fiction which is different from true. But I do find a lot of connectedness through photos. For me, connectedness is not about knowledge of the photographer, but about sharing something with the photographer (or viewer). That happens for me.</p>

<p>I do think, to varying degrees, we can come to know things about certain photographers through their bodies of work, can probably be fooled by others, and be completely mystified by some. The degree for each photographer is not the same. Nor would I expect it to be. Look through Nan Goldin's work and Robert Mapplethorpe's work and I think you will learn some things about them. It's hard to think of many of the great photographers whose photos don't reflect in some important ways the things I've read about their lives. Tina Modotti. Roman Vishniak. And on and on . . .</p>

<p>I think, a photographer can choose to communicate a part of his ideology through his work, and hide the other part. What is harder to do (and rare too) is to intentionally deliver a message that is contrary to what he believes, and still produce quality art. The lack of true heart in such art will show, in my opinion. However the bigger question is, why would an artist who is true to his art would do that?</p>

<p>Tim,<br /> Many serial killers are incapable of empathy. It is a brain anomaly. Thats how they hide their true personality from their loved ones. Any normal person including artists who are capable of empathy won't be able to conceal their emotions or ideologies as easily as a serial killer (or any sociopath) can do.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Look through Nan Goldin's work and Robert Mapplethorpe's work and I think you will learn some things about them. It's hard to think of many of the great photographers whose photos don't reflect in some important ways the things I've read about their lives. Tina Modotti. Roman Vishniak. And on and on . . .</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Fred, I agree with you that reading up on the background of famous photographers will reveal info about them that wouldn't have been clearly understood just by looking at their work, but that's a top down one-sided relationship to the viewer, more biographical/documentary like engagement which is different from my understanding of the OP titled topic. </p>

<p>After reading their story I still would not feel I'ld have a real relationship with those photographers you listed because of the distancing caused by the knowledge that the backstory is penned and edited in a way to market and promote the photographer even though it may smack of a real life spontaneous account of their dramatic life. It's still filtered information from all the variables I've mentioned in my previous posts.</p>

<p>Besides as a photographer I really don't want a relationship with another photographer knowing I'm not going to get the full story nor can I expect it. I don't want my first impression looking at their work for the first time to be changed by reading their back story because now it's no longer my photographic experience, it's no longer my reaction to how the photo impacted me. It now becomes just another documentary. </p>

<p>Things look different when they're photographed and that difference can be dispelled or changed by more needless information whose purpose is to establish a false relationship/kindred-ship that feels real but wasn't there when first viewing the work on its own. It's a photograph, not infotainment.</p>

<p>The very act of photographing/painting a picture dictates it is meant to be seen by a viewer which also includes the image creator. Any relationship whether real or just felt is a figment of the viewer's imagination where it has the potential of providing a dream like and mysterious experience much like reading a story in a book. That's the pay off. Photographing is our own little dreams we can create out of thin air.</p>

<p>That's about as far as a real relationship we can expect out of it. Who cares if it's not real. One says it is, another says it isn't so there's no point in defining it for everyone by thinking one can derive meaningful information out of it while someone else thinks it's just drivel. It's just a pastime. </p>