Photography and Loss

Landrum Kelly · January 29, 2009

This series on the theme of "loss" by Barbara Scheide made me wonder if the real motive behind almost all photography is perhaps loss, or, more precisely, attempts to prevent it (or at least assuage it) with feeble efforts to capture memories of the Eternal Present:

http://www.scheide.net/WomanLoss/index_gray.html

--Lannie

Matt Laur · January 29, 2009

Hmm. I don't know about "almost all," there. A lot of photography is creative, rather than preservative. It's a form of communication. Of the past, certainly (since the scene in every image happened in the past), but often about the future, or with the intention of shaping how the viewer relates to the future in some way.

jtk · January 29, 2009

Landrum, that's an interesting set of ideas, but they overlook much of the best of photography..such as the work of Avedon one hand, and Paul Fusco et al on another http://paulfuscophoto.com/#a=0&at=0&mi=2&pt=1&pi=10000&s=4&p=1

If anyone one doubts that photojournalists or commercial photographers accomplish the out-and-out beauty of Ansel Adam's best, they only need look at Irving Penn's platinums, or Salgado's 20X30-ish B&Ws.

fran__ois_p._weill · January 29, 2009

I can hardly adhere to the ideas expressed by both Landrum Kelly and Matt Laur...

To the original poster, I will simply answer the evocation of a past moment is inherent to photography whether this is deliberate or not... Just because what is recorded was recorded in the past, whatever you do.

Now it is true a lot of pictures are deliberately taken to record a certain event to see its image in the future... But is it really to prevent a loss ?... It all depends on what you mean by this term. And from both the way you speak about it and the illustration of your statement you indicate, it seems you refer only to a personal loss.

IMHO most pictures are recorded to remember more than to anticipate on the unavoidable disappearance of people, animals and even things. So to say it doesn't imply any deliberate intention to retain the image of something now disappeared. The fact is, when you lose someone or something, then, the picture of it becomes a way to compensate (but so lightly !) for this loss.

A lot of pictures are also taken as a witness of something... This is the ordinary job of a P.J. ... Those pictures are recorded to be seen on the next morning (or next issue) paper (so they are images of the past when published) but even if they can bring emotional reactions, these reactions are not very often a feeling of loss... Again, it is later, much later, that they can bring emotions about something lost (i.e. : a lost atmosphere of yesteryear), and most of them are simply a mute testimony of a piece of History.

Finally there are pics which tends to be looked upon as nearly intemporal... A picture of the Parthenon for example is something which should have been taken in the 19th century or yesterday, provided there is no "dated" elements in the frame (and, of course, the work is in B&W). Of course you can object that for the photographer it can evocate his (her) holydays in Athens at a precise date and trigger a feeling of the passing time and loss... But you can hardly sustain this picture was taken on purpose to trigger this feeling, years later. For the casual viewer, it is just an image of... the Parthenon ! ...

Now, the idea a picture taken for creative purpose is never to remember and mourn a loss or even the majority of them is oriented toward the future is also quite a dangerous affirmation.

I know some car or motorcycle owners who photograph their machines in a very creative way and with the deliberate intention to keep a record of them in the future when they will be sold, definitively out of order or destroyed...

By the way, I'm very cautious about the terms "creative" or "creation" in arts and moreover in the specific domain of photography...

From the late 60's onwards until nowadays, this terminology have been largely abused and perhaps even more in photography than anywhere else.

For example, it has ever been and remains difficult to define the borders of what can be legitimately called a photography and what should be better described as the use of photographic techniques in graphic arts. No consensus seems to exist on this point.

I won't be foolish enough (and it will be necessary to open another specific thread on this subject) to try to define what is "objectively" a photography... Though I have a very personal view about this problem. Moreover it will largely be out of the topic of this exchange.

But I sincerly doubt what is generally accepted as creative photography is a dominant practice and motivation for picture taking anyway.

FPW

jtk · January 29, 2009

..as well, though I've only visited that Schiede link (thanks), she appears to dote on the past, romanticizing it without connecting it to her experience today.

By contrast, http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/eascfa/dinner_party/place_settings/webtour/

Judy Chicago is a noisy feminist. I agree with most of what she says. She doesn't dote on the past, but the famous collaborative Dinner Party ceramics, which she inspired and directed, and which springs from historic references (including Schiede's Emily Dickenson), live in the present (most seem "modern") and are intended to drive the future...they're political, educational and beautiful.. they irritate some folks and inspire doubts, questions... I saw it years ago in San Francisco (was sneaked in the back door of Legion of Honor by a guard, so I didn't have to stand in line or follow it). Not photography, but perhaps closer to the potential of photography than Schiede's lovely, nostalgic photo illustrations...imo

Norma Desmond · January 29, 2009

I find Schiede's photos to talk about loss more than expressing it. It's as if she thought to herself, what is every "symbol" of loss I can think about and then make a series of photos using those representations. The series doesn't seem to express how she feels about loss. It actually doesn't seem to express loss at all, though it expresses what seems to me an idea of loss.

When I saw the title of your post, I thought of my own situation and how much loss has influenced my photographs, though I wouldn't say they are about loss. At a crucial time in my photographic development, I lost my mother. My "creativity," a word already recognized here as loaded, fills a void and is inspired, often, by her loss. I remember how significant the night was, about a month after her death, when I was sitting in her Florida family room, having found a box of old photos I'd never seen. Her as a grade-school girl, her friends, my dad returning from the war. Though taken to preserve good memories, they had become a token of my loss. There may be nothing more powerful than a meaningful snapshot at certain times.

My own photographs are not a means of preventing loss, though they may be, to some extent, a recognition of it or at least a product of it. If anything, as I explore aging visually, they could be an expression of acceptance or even a denial that what we often think of as loss is even loss.

If I sensed Schiede being motivated by loss, I think I would respond more. Rather, I see her being motivated by a theme.

saskphotog · January 29, 2009

It is, of course, true that loss is an important concept for many photographers, but that fact would come as a surprise only to those people who have not come to terms with one of the most fundamental facts of life: All that you have you will lose.

It's not something many people grapple with in their philosophy because of the "sadness" (and, too often, fear) it engenders. Those who come to that realization, but are unable to accept its consequences often react badly to loss. For those who can know the truth of that fact and understand that it is no more sad than the fact that you had nothing when you started, will be quite comfortable with the theme of loss.

Some people drink because of the consequences of loss; some people collect stuff; some people take pictures.

jtk · January 29, 2009

I agree with Fred's analysis of Schiede's images, but I also see a not-so-hidden edge, the feminist dimension in Emily Dickenson. Being "motivated by a theme," even if superficially, seems consistent with Landrum's idea...did he limit it to a subtle/unconscious drive, such as "compelled from inside?"

Fred, some time ago you mentioned your mother's importance...it rang different bells for me: Mine was a very fine amateur photographer/printer (would be 91 this year...Kodak Bantam Special, f2)...photos of her are less moving than photos by her (a coddled farm girl with bitter city connections, she was conflicted). My most moving photo "of" her may be a Kodak Autographic image of a spindly 1917 Christmas tree with her more-beautiful big sister's few presents... six months before my mother's birth. I don't feel my own loss as much as I feel my mother's. I don't know if she ever saw that photo.

Larry, I'm not sure I buy photography-as-addiction. True for some. It does have to do with mortality for me, a reference to limited time rather than to some spectre of death.

saskphotog · January 29, 2009

John, photography was not intended as an addiction, but to show that people deal with fear of loss in many ways from the harmful, to the harmless, to the (relatively, possibly, sometimes) positive. Anything can, of course, become destructive beyond a certain point, which I will not try to define.

Just symptoms of how comfortable you are with the way the world works.

will_perlis · January 29, 2009

"All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt." — <a title="view all quotes by Susan Sontag" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7907.Susan_Sontag" title="view all quotes by Susan Sontag">Susan Sontag</a> I think she over-states the case a bit but there's truth to it. I definitely wasn't thinking of my parents getting old and dying when I took pictures of them fifty-five years ago when I was in my early teens or later when they were middle-aged and my children were young. However, looking at those pictures now is an entirely different experience when I can contrast them with the reality of my father being gone and my mother at eighty-seven and waiting to die.

To some small extent I wish I didn't have those old pictures; they make current reality seem harsher. To a much larger extent I'm glad I have them as reminders of the good times and as memories I can pass on to the kids.

Norma Desmond · January 30, 2009

" the fact that you had nothing when you started"

I had a lot when I started. Parents, a gene makeup, a family history, a cultural context, physicality. My life didn't start ex nihilo and I don't think it will end up that way. We each make our mark. That can be viewed as a gain, not a loss. I may think about "losing" others to death while not necessarily thinking about losing myself or the supposed losses I will sustain.

pnital · January 30, 2009

Lannie, I think this may be my part of an answer to your subject/question. It was printed in a magazine in USA with photos of my painting period that deals with the "The cycle of life." ( the name of the exhibition )

http://www.photo.net/photo/1773129

I will add to the last sentence....

....and photography..... of the past, for the future. Documenting history, losses, gains ,memories, ,creations, and .....you name it.

cooltpmd · January 30, 2009

Landrum:

I think the above clarifies different motives. I take most pictures, play with them in PS, and eventually settle on ones where my artistic goal was met.

Others take photos for pure documentation of an occurence.

But, as you point out, a substantial portion of photos of vacations, loved ones, ourselves, and our stuff ... is about holding on to that elusive eternity we seek. You can validate your claim by looking at the way a family who has lost a loved one treats the photo, or how 2 people remenising about High School treat the photo. They use them to hold onto that which has been "lost". Some find true connection with that.

I think some take photos in hopes it will leave something of them for eternity to view also.

cooltpmd · January 30, 2009

I definitely wasn't thinking of my parents getting old and dying when I took pictures of them fifty-five years ago when I was in my early teens or later when they were middle-aged and my children were young. However, looking at those pictures now is an entirely different experience when I can contrast them with the reality of my father being gone and my mother at eighty-seven and waiting to die.

***

Great points. To me the greatest impact of these types of photos is when you see a photo you have seen many times before in a different context. As Will said, a photo taken by a 16 year old with young, energetic parents who still had hopes & dreams .... then viewed after their passing, or even more profoundly, when you reach their age in the photo and can almost see that captured moment of life out of their eyes.

williams_gallery · January 30, 2009

I can only speak for myself in saying that I definitely have been compelled to photograph things ever since I was a young kid out of a sense of wanting to preserve the moment - to preserve life. I don't photograph my own misery - other people's - sometimes. When it's photography for me, it's always about trying to keep one moment farther from the inevitable end. When I talk to my father (in his 70's) who is a farm boy at heart, he has this very well adjusted, salt-of-the-earth attitude of "yes I'm going to die - it's all part of it" that I just cannot seem to grasp. I have to be honest with myself in accepting that I am abnormal in my ability to deal with my own mortality, and photography does nothing to help that, but I continue to try all the same. As for the Scheide series, I feel that the pictorial approach of the series doesn't convey the tone of the intended message for me nearly as concisely as the quoted text do - in other words, I think Dickenson and company upstage the photographer. But, I'm admittedly biased towards more literal, photojournalistic work, so maybe that's on me. Not to knock it too hard, but I also don't like to look at photographs with captions/quotes that tell me what I'm looking at, unless it's a photo essay or news reporting. Like they say in writing, "show me, don't tell me."

will_perlis · January 30, 2009

"in other words, I think Dickenson and company upstage the photographer."

</blockquote>

True for me too. I'm reminded of the advice from "Art and Fear" about not comparing one's work to Mozart's if you ever want to get anything done. Illustrating Emily is gilding the lily.

lex_jenkins · January 31, 2009

Scheide's photo essay seems a bit precious, a bit too obvious an attempt to create photos that would fit a predetermined theme with simple captions.

But I agree with the concept of using photography as a way of coming to terms with loss. It's a too familiar and familial preoccupation. But I'm uncomfortable with using the words and concepts of other writers as outlines to sketch images that I will then attempt to recreate in photographs. I simply take the photographs and only later see the connection with the mood of the moment. A few nights ago I stumbled across a collection of photos I had not seen in years and felt overwhelmed by a sense of loss of place, time and opportunity. But none of that would be apparent to anyone else seeing those photos, most of which are filled with life and joy.

In that sense it's doubtful that my photos would convey to anyone else my personal emotional attachments any more clearly that Scheide's photo essay conveyed to me the sense of integrity she must have felt when creating that project.

jtk · January 31, 2009

Lex is right to remind us of "the sense of integrity she (Sheide) must have felt when creating that project."

Many us know of successful efforts to illustrate literary ideas with photographs, just as with illustrations. "Wind In The Willows" and "Alice In Wonderland" and "Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court" (Twain) are famous illustrated examples.

Photography has the same potential to augment or parallel books as does illustration. I gave a fine "Joyce's Dublin" to a woman who lives for James Joyce...a photo book with quotations, documenting Leopold Bloom's wanderings in "Ulysses." It captured the place and time nicely, which was much of the substance of Joyce's novel as well. Neither seem nostalgic, neither seem to refer to loss.

I see no reason why most fiction writers (handy bookshelf, random names: Scott Momaday, Edward Abbey, Cormac McCarthy, John LaCarre) shouldn't/couldn't be communicated partially with photography, and Amy Winehouse certainly has been http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LD5sahXoj0U .

+ Looking again at the Scheide photos and text, I'm more troubled by her "loss" idea than by her photos.

I think she mistakenly used he quotations as references to loss... they refer instead to a variety of feelings and concerns: span of life (none, I think, to death), a sense of important decision. One expresses a woman's orgasm (augmented by reveries), which concludes one day in Leopold Bloom's Dublin (Joyce again) and actually has to do with ongoing life...Molly Bloom seems to be accomplishing much of what she actually wants.

The sentiment that photography inherently relates to loss, beyond our accumulated snaps of lost lovers and relatives, and recurring old-barnwood-sunset-pictorialism art/schmaltz, attempts simply to reduce photography's motivation to postcard sentiment...

The idea that photography, or life itself, substantially involves fear of death and nothingness is definitively neurotic: free floating anxiety, blamed mistakenly on a non-phenomenon. Nobody has evidence for "nothing," nobody can describe it, physicists deny it, Genesis is substantially to blame for it. It's a superstition.

That when we die we "return" to "nothing" is absurd on its face. There is no "nothing." We all know where we came from, who we were among at birth, the culture we were born with, the language patterns we were arguably born with, and that when we die we don't vanish...not only do we leave a corpse, we leave clutter and photographs and memories...if we leave at all. See Fred Goldsmith, above, for his take on this reality.

jtk · January 31, 2009

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LD5sahXoj0U

I don't think this relates to loss or fear as much as some kind of moral shock, angry mood, even revulsion. And much of it is beautiful, in its way.

Norma Desmond · January 31, 2009

I think of photography as potential more often than loss. "Nothing" is fixed and void, meaningless. "Nothingness" is potential. Like figure and ground. One rises out of the fullness that is surrounding "things" and becomes what she was not intended to be, by anyone else or any supreme being. "Nothingness" recognizes that the man born with no legs has a challenge and a very particular start, hardly born from or having "nothing." That challenge can see to it that the process continues beyond the start, that the definition of the man, though begun with something and ever influenced by that something, does not have to limit itself to being that something.

For me, photography's loss is when it is considered limited by the world (reality, bah humbug) of which it takes pictures instead of being considered limitless in its vision. My views are not unlike Matt's at the beginning of the thread.

aplumpton · February 12, 2009

John's reference to Fusco's Chernobyl photographs seems to me to be very pertinent to this post. Loss (and grief) is written on the faces of the adults and in the shots of the groups of transformed children, coping with their new life.

Expressing loss in less sensational (i.e., less evident) situations may be more difficult to achieve.

kristina_kraft · February 12, 2009

I often photograph my friends, myself and among that I photographed my boyfriend and myself together. In those moments I don't think on loss, but rather on preserving the moment in time that was important to me than. Those were a special moments to me, emotionally beautiful.It was a time when we were feeling close to one another. Our souls communicated than. It's really a remarkable feeling and a state of being when you experience such a warmth of relationship.

The rest would be an art of keeping a relationship an ongoing one. Unfortunately, males don't know how to keep it, how to care the garden. It's not in their nature "to stay at home" .

I would take a self-portrait with all of you here! And I would have titled it "We were Photo-Netters".

aplumpton · February 13, 2009

Even then, the self-portrait would be history, a bygone time, half a day ago, or whatever time classification one could give it. What remains undampened. though. is the impression, the thoughts, the gift of the latter from someone to someone, or other shared intimate expressions of joy, beauty.

My experience of male behaviour in regard to prior relationships is that while the man is quick to turn the page (self-healing, catharsis?), his mind later often goes back to the impressons or thoughts of past times. Good or bad, I don't know, but that may be one way in which he can honour "home" or a once relation. Not melancholy, just the realisation of the beauty (and perhaps pain) that once graced his humble existence.

kristina_kraft · February 14, 2009

Arthur,

You described so clear about this particular male behaviour. I've been wondering about it for tha last one month. Self-healing, catharsis from what? From beauty, from good things - thinking on happy relationship. I understand. From my point of view, my catharsis lies in having a relationship. It transfomrs me in a way I can't describe in a simple words. It would be in a poetic words, then.

aplumpton · February 21, 2009

I guess there is nothing better than a current strong relationship - one that is lost is on another plane. The self-healing for me in the case of lost relationships often came later, when I was able to see or feel things more clearly and appreciate the beauty or pleasure or even the improbable nature of it (two unmatchable persons), which included appreciating more the other person and caring about what might have become of her. Is that self-healing? Perhaps not. When I find some photograph of the relationship, I usually feel some loss as well as pleasure, so perhaps that is one element of photography and loss that is valuable. The image can catalyse former feelings or appreciaton for another person, independent of our (or their) present situation.

Landrum's point about photography possibly assuaging loss is arguably true, although it can also remind us of something we may not wish to be reminded of, or the reminiscence of inhibits progression.

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