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Photographs: Truths and Lies


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<p>It is quite impressive, as Fred says, that when listening to the music of different composers we hear their voice, their state of being, their passions, their misgivings about man or their hope for the future. I am currently listening to a Berlioz song cycle (Songs of a summer night) that does that for me, but if I was to hear another of Britten or Mahler or Schubert or Delius or Gesualdo I would be hearing different but evocative voices. Same thing for popular music, the fire in the voice of Joplin, the social resignation of Dylan, the fresh simplicity and pure somics of the MacGarrigle Sisters or the onlooker of society that is Cohen (also Dylan).</p>

<p>Each is searching for their idea of truth. The existence or pretention to lies are easy to ignore because we are already won over by their force, their attitude. Lies become palatable in the face of the honesty of the lies or their use as a vehicle for other things, to evoke specific feelings or thoughts in the listener.</p>

<p>I lie in some of my photographs. Sense of reality is a secondary objective in many cases. I want the viewer to be curious, and if my image hasn't aroused that curiosity I have to consider that it is a bit of a failure. Whether the photograph emits truth (or some attempted approximation to an unattainable truth) or a lie is often of secondary importance to me. The photograph has to satisfy the objective I set out for it, which may be more complex or intriguing than truth or false. It is an investigation of something, which may not lead to an answer (so much the better as that would be a closed book), but will intrigue me and hopefully the viewer.</p>

<p>It is fashionable to speak of our successes. I think I would not gain as much in discussing those as I do from my failures. Case in point. A few years ago, in order to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the founding of our town, I did a series on the cartographer-explorer-founder by using some of his texts and creating diptychs and triptychs in which some of the elements of his work, and some still fairly 'virginal' scenes of his visit, played out together in my attempt to evoke what he may have thought and seen here those 400 years ago (he had already visited Acadia Park in Maine 5 years before, so the land wasn't a complete surprise). It was fun, it allowed some different forms of expression, but I am not at all happy with it. I used facts and lies to get there, but it didn't achieve my first goal of strongly evoking a curiosity and voyage in the mind of the viewer (I know this as they were hung in an exhibition space I spent some time in). It appeared (rather they appeared, being a series of images) too cold, too analytical. I may get another chance this year, the 475th of an earlier explorer to these shores and his discovery of natural wine plants and the indigenous people of the time. Again, it wil be a combination of "truths" and lies. Hopefully, together with an altered (experience) personal mindset or approach, a new mixture of truths and lies that might be convincing, or at least better sculptured, in its message.</p>

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<p >Mediated</p>

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<p >Intransitive verb to work with both sides in a dispute in an attempt to help them to reach an agreement</p>

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<p >Unmediated</p>

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<p >Okay, I give in, what do you mean by your new word ;)</p>

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<p >“Each is searching for their idea of truth.”</p>

<p > </p>

<p >Yes, believe on what is the truth...a personal take.</p>

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<p><strong>Wouter</strong>, though I agree to a great extent when you say<em> "Look at this very website: it's world-wide, many people from many different backgrounds (cultural, educational, interests).. sharing a photo here does nowhere near give you that similarity in cultural milieu, and hence a much lower predictabilit</em><em>y of reactions,"</em> I have an example that will tie together two of your insightful musings, this one and the one about the "loaded" effect the portrait of a famous person might have. If she's good enough, experienced enough, and she wants to, a photographer can overcome cultural barriers by choosing a subject that is so universally-known and symbolic that, though reactions may vary by culture, I think initial perceptions and immediate responses may be anticipated to be somewhat similar. I think you can also shoot something less universally known but in a particular way that will be more widely felt. (One wouldn't always want to do that. Sometimes it's important to express your own more specific, personal, and local cultural values, mores, or feelings.) In the following example, Brits will be entitled to their own more personal reaction to this portrait, as will the Queen herself, but around the earth I'd suggest that most will see and "get" the very same thing here. It seems almost unmistakable to me, because the woman, the clothing, the demeanor, the posture, the environment, and the weather tell such a true story of this woman. The Queen may certainly not react the way others will, her grandsons may in fact be snickering knowingly behind their velvet curtains and suits of armor, but I think we are all seeing something and at a gut level experiencing something quite similar. For me, that feeling of unmistakability is photographic truth: when it feels like it just has to be this way. No doubt, in spite of all I said, that some here will <em>react</em> to this portrait very differently, but I don't think that will be because they <em>see</em> it so differently.</p>

<p><a href="http://maryt.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/781170578_5ba75b9929_o.jpg">Queen Elizabeth II</a>, by Annie Leibovitz.<br /> </p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p><strong>Julie</strong>, I was thinking that the difference between being at home vs. in a museum/symphony hall is a matter of the kind and quality of attention I achieve . . . captivation. Also breath. In the symphony hall, I can hear the violins breathe and it sounds and feels like the breath of a singer. In the opera house, without a recording device, I hear the humanness of the voice which carries the song. On a recording, I hear more just the song. In the museum, I am in touch with the textures of the prints much more (as I said, the sensuality) as well as with the focus that the frame provides. Perhaps the live performance and the gallery viewing are much more a blending of form and content, of medium and what art that medium brings me.</p>

<p>I think other people being around creates something important as well. Sharing these experiences, even with strangers, can add magnitude and dimension. Funny, for me, I tend to be often distracted by others in museums and at the symphony (especially when they fidget with their purses or candy wrappers during <em>sotto voce</em> passages). On the other hand, no matter the distractions, even of text messaging, I much prefer going to a movie theater to see films than watching them at home. Some of that is the superior technology and bigger screen afforded me in the theater. But I know a lot of it is liking to watch them while surrounded by strangers in the dark.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p><strong>Arthur</strong>, I quite agree that these are palatable lies I'm talking about, for the most part. There have been some nonpalatable lies that have reached me, too . . . Mapplethorpe's, Goldin's.</p>

<p>I'm glad you bring up curiosity. I can relate to the objective you may have for your photos. Mine are sometimes well formulated in my mind, sometimes not as clear to me, by design. Sometimes the objective is for me to wander visually without a particular destination in mind. The destination seems to come into view as I explore and I seem to arrive simply when I feel I'm finished. There may be smaller objectives within that overall journey, but the overall objective may more come to be and not necessarily be there from the beginning. That can be a matter of my own curiosity as opposed to the arousal of the viewers', which as you do, I also see as something significant to work with. I think these photos may still have my voice, regardless of how formed my intentions were toward it. And I think they will still have aspects of truth and lies regardless of how much emphasis I put on that or attention I pay to it. I agree with you that truth and lies may not always be the most intriguing aspect to focus on. They may just be.</p>

<p>I definitely understand what you mean by "failure," which is clearly related to our own expectations of ourselves . . . and others. Perhaps because I have a history of being so judgmental of myself, I'm actually happy to say that making photographs has liberated me from that to a great extent. I tend to see what I might otherwise call "failures" as process. I couldn't get anywhere without them. So, failures though they may be, more importantly they are experiments and they are part of my evolution. As I try to channel my disappointments in life into my photographs, whether as catharsis, or motivation, or for genuineness of expression, I try to channel my disappoints in my photographs into my next photograph.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p><em>"...Poetry, literature and the visual arts, tend to be about generalized truths, unlike non-art representations, which are always about particularized, very specific, literal truth. The kind found in receipts, telegrams, owner's manuals, drivers' licenses, etc."</em> Luis G</p>

<p>1) I don't think poetry, literature, and visual arts are inherently "about" anything...except to people who need to impose their <em>interpretations</em> on the works...ie critics, teachers, people paid to talk rather than produce.<br>

2) Hearing that there's an alternative to "literal truth" evokes "fair and balanced" and Carl Rove.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>"For me, that feeling of unmistakably is photographic truth: when it feels like it just has to be this way. No doubt, in spite of all I said, that some here will <em>react</em> to this portrait very differently, but I don't think that will be because they <em>see</em> it so differently."<br>

<br>

The photographs are cold and sterile.<br>

<br>

A good portrait photographers relaxes the subject draws out their personality...they, the subject, become an instinctive part of the photography not just a cold dish served on a platter like a pigs head in medieval banquet. <br>

<br>

A very poor street photographer working in the candid format would have done a lot better.<br>

<br>

I see very little photograph truths in those photos unless you relate them to photographs of a brick wall.</p>

 

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<p>One of the best metaphysical fiction writers of my generation posted yesterday in another place that writers were vampires. He meant this metaphysically. I said that I was going to ask here if being a photographer would save my soul.</p>

<p>Both the writer and the various hands talking about the public being out of step with Post Modernism and the making of souls through art are being rather silly, I think. Art is play that goes toward making us human, however much ego is required to draw on one's imagination, experience, and other people's experiences filtered through ones very own sensibility and then make something that one expects will be more interesting to other people than their own thoughts. </p>

<p>The writer in question is better as a writer than most of us here are as photographers (and gave me permission to drop him in this conversation anonymously), but he doesn't believe that writers as a group have a better handle on truths than other humans who aren't self-absorbed and self-centered, and he's particularly caustic about artists who try to do political work through art, though he's probably as left-of-center as anyone here.</p>

<p>Why would photography save us if writing fiction makes us vampires? I think the writer in question is simply having a bad day, but I think the myth of artist as hero and truth finder ahead of common humanity is comes from equally bad days, just manic ones rather than depressive ones. The metaphysical writer in question is also sure that writers are crazy, especially the ones who are sure they're sane.</p>

<p>On my own bad days, I think that the arts are simply how we flatter ourselves. It's all the primate strut.</p>

<p>And perhaps there's absolutely nothing wrong with that and perhaps the animals we are and the societies we create are as beautiful as a Baltimore Oriole's nest or an orchid, and the arts simply hope to catch a glimmering of the sublime (Longinus ref here) that's our common human heritage, the play of being mortal imaginative creatures who create time on their hands by being smarter about catching their food than most critters.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>Fred, I sympathise with and share your objectives in the process of making photographs. Disappointments are just another stop on the route and often additional motivation to pursue one's particular view. Maybe the images in question were unsuccessful or maybe not (they might just appear that way at the time), but they inform us about our own process and what we may do next. I also agree that notwithstanding intentions prior to actual image capture we are sometimes better to drift towards the result rather than plan it too precisely. This is not to deny control completely. I can drift on one river or windstream or drift on another. They are not completely unknown to me.</p>

<p>Interesting image of the Queen. The pose and clothes remind me of Antonioni's controversial portrait of the younger queen, or of the formal paintings of Nelson or Wellington or other British generals of past. The stereotypes used by Leibowitz are certainly conscious ones, a bit too conscious and clichéd (my personal viewpoint). I first thought that I was looking at an image of one of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Tongue-in-cheek or satyre aside, it could be for me any formal portrait of a prominent figure. The portrait does have its values, particularly in the facial expression of the person. The rest of it for me is mainly lies (the illicited comparison to military figures). I think I would react more positively to her being placed in a tea shop having tea and some scones, or fragiley walking down a line of soldiers at Horse Guards, or perhaps encouraging a small child at school. Would any of these be more lies than the military pose of KLeibowitz? Possibly not. It is unforunate that the face is not a close up where we could ignore the rest of the "supports" and "clichés" of formal posing.</p>

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<p>Photography, like anything else is subject to branding. Tell, enough people, enough times, something is great, it will become a universal truth of greatness...humanity follows the herding instinct. That is how simple our truths are to understand.<br>

<br>

A senior executive once told me that they could put anything in a Mars Bar because it’s the brand that folks buy above anything else. The Tory party in the UK have always had the majority of the female vote because they think it is posh to vote Tory and their candidates always look rather handsome. <br>

<br>

Cold realities when we are discussing perceptions of truths.</p>

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<p><strong>Julie: "</strong>Luis, What if I don't know what their culture is?</p>

<p> That could change the outcome, though even if you didn't know whether or not they lied to you, it would not rule out the possibility of them doing so in their own way. I read somewhere that the average college-age person tells between 1-2 hundred lies a day. This appears to be not only a survival tactic, but a useful social lubricant. </p>

<p><strong>Julie: "</strong>Or, more precisely (and what I meant but did not say above) where they are visually -- which is a different terrain from the verbal. (As if I asked a perfect stranger to play me some music and then had to decide if it was a lie.)"</p>

<p> It might not be seen as either truth or lie, but as something not fully understood (something one doesn't hear very often). They would see it in their own way. When the English began touring Europe, they saw the Swiss Alps as a true manifestation of God's wrath (or displeasure) against the Swiss.The way we describe things says more about us than what we are describing.</p>

<p> Music, like photography, as a medium (literally in-between), can neither lie nor tell the truth. It can convey any combination of the above, however. A bridge doesn't go anywhere, but it helps other things get there.</p>

<p> Media do that too, but also transform perceptions (and more) into exo-neural encoded forms.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p><strong>Rebecca</strong>, given your feelings about not just your own but about why others make art and about other artists, why would you ask us if being a photographer would save your soul? Isn't that something you should answer for yourself. I'll answer nevertheless. I don't have a soul so I have nothing to save. </p>

<p>I think artists are no better at accessing truths than anyone else. I think they often access truths that I'm inclined to be drawn to and/or care about. Mathematicians access different truths and when I studied math in high school I was quite moved by those. Were I in a Philosophy of Mathematics forum, I'd be talking about those truths, but it wouldn't be because I thought less of photographic ones.</p>

<p>I was at a coffee house with my dear scientist friend just yesterday and we were talking about so many similarities between us, including as relates to truth.</p>

<p><strong>Arthur</strong>, yes. I think Annie is good enough to show us the same thing and to elicit different reactions, based on taste, context, our own perspectives, etc. I think the symbols she's offered and the clichés as well and, of course her known subject, are what's similarly reaching us because they work. We are reacting differently to those symbols and clichés and I assume she would fully expect and invite that. It seems clear that we both "get it." And we make of it very different things. With bad photographs and photographers, we often have to say we don't even "get it."</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p> "I don't have a soul so I have nothing to save. "<br>

<br>

Seems sort of a sad thought.<br>

<br>

Well, Fred, you can never be to sure of anything. We are not all seeing any knowing.....and the good books are very subjective to interpretation and what gospels some bloke decided were suitable for the mores and politics of the time.. Poor Judas, he's Gospels found in the Dead Sea scrolls, never got a word in edge ways.....and, hey, what about those other Jewish creeds lost in time. <br>

Now science has discovered dark matter which created our universe...what is that all about? Could that dark matter be sentient? Who knows?<br>

<br>

Just what do we know....not much?<br>

<br>

Maybe it's not just about good books but something else.</p>

 

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<p>Art cannot have the same truths as science, in the sense that it is not dealing with the more measurable physical reality as is science (I recommend a couple hours of pleasant digression provided by the film "Einstein and Eddington", in which the challenge to the truth of Newton's laws of motion by the mathematics of Einstein was first rejected strongly by the scientific community but eventualy accepted in part through the measurements of Eddington. Truth in physics prevailed). How do you measure values, sentiments and visual communication which uses no dimensions or time (only fleetingly but as a time point in photography and not a line or space)?</p>

<p>Leibowitz has done better than in her portrait of the Queen, which is too formal to be compelling. The most succesful portraits of famous persons are in my mind those which portray their character and not their position. Perhaps it is easier to photograph ordinary persons. I find more to interest me in my image of the young girl in the apple orchard, not because it happens to be mine (although I have imposed my style somewhat on her and that is perhaps a lie in respect to her), but because it expresses something about someone whom I do not really know and which activates my curiosity. Where is she now (like the Afghan girl with the green eyes). Is she well?. I would prefer a photo of the Queen that would tell me something new (Again, if it was not such a very commercial portrait, perhaps Leibowitz would have highlighted more her face by a close-up instead of her Madame Tussaud's pose - yes, I am not a very nice and possibly jealous person, so I'm told).</p>

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<p>Fred, I try to follow in the footsteps of St. Frank O'Hara whatever art I'm in and not take art too seriously unless it's as good as the movies. The writer who decided that all writers, himself included, were vampires was taking himself too seriously, also. In that other thread, we have agreed that all humans are whacks.</p>

<p>I believe that what intrigues us seems more valid and valuable to us than things that don't intrigue us (people who don't deign to read or see popular fiction or art strike me as faking all interest in any art; people who genuinely love art love the stuff that's good, popular or esoteric). Things that appeal to our clever brains are the things we declare to be truths, but it's thrills, joy, and pleasure, all the turtles down.</p>

 

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<p><strong>Arthur</strong>, for the purposes of this thread, I wasn't concerned with whether I or anyone else thought the portrait of the Queen was good or whether anyone liked it. It was to illustrate something about cross-cultural understanding of a portrait and about portraits of famous people. You've picked up on that in comparing your general feelings about portraits of famous and not famous people. I certainly understand your disappointment with this portrait. (I actually prefer <a href="http://rawartint.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/annieleibovitz.jpg">THIS ONE</a> by Leibovitz but it didn't illustrate my point as well because the iconic weather wasn't obvious. And I'm reminded that the Queen had a lot to say about how the portraits would be made, though Leibovitz seems to have gotten away with the first one, <em>sans</em> crown.) I sense, perhaps, your disappointment with Leibovitz overall. Would make sense because you prefer the portrayal of character to the portrayal of position.</p>

<p>What I think Annie does so well is combine those two. She brings me both character and persona and I see the personae of many of her subjects as very much part of their character. I do like to honor the personae of my subjects as part of their realness. The Fred I present to the world may be different from the Fred that looks himself in the mirror first thing in the morning, but I'm not convinced by any means that the one shown to the public, even when it's a somewhat conscious creation, doesn't show Fred's character precisely because that's what he's chosen to show.</p>

<p>I'm not sure I would or even could separate who <a href="http://blog.oregonlive.com/visualarts/2008/11/large_annie2.jpg">Johnny Depp</a> is from who Johnny Depp is for me/us. Is that Johnny Depp in the portrait or is that Johnny Depp's persona. Are the two so separable? Is he more real when he's frolicking with his kids and dog in the backyard than in this photo? Not to me. Or DeNiro, Dennis Hopper, Scarlett Johansson or any of Leibovitz's others. Actors create images (and we help them) not only of the characters they play but of themselves. Would I deny the conscious or even unconscious creation of their own persona as part of their character if I were trying to do them justice or even just make a compelling portrait of them? I'd likely want both.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>I can't see any way to derive truth from art. A photograph is a mere brush stroke - a personal glob of light from an infinite source of light. When we resurrect 6,000 year old artifacts, we have a series of truth squads make their proclamations. The archaeologist and the sociologist and the historian all fight for primacy, no? Fertility Goddess or object d'pornography? Both? Neither? Don't you really have to know every individual who came in contact with it? How do you integrate all the possible inputs into a truth?<br>

<br /> Eye balls and film and sensors only see what their design limits allow. A very narrow spectrum of EMR, for instance. And, it captures no aura. How does an instrument with obvious known limits detect any sublime truth? I say that without needing to get far into the meaning of truth. You could say in fairness of a photograph, "it contains some bits of reality." Is a skin portrait in any meaningful way a truth about a human being?<br>

<br /> The purpose of art is to delight and surprise. You splash light or paint around, and that's the simple game. It's something you DO, not something that IS. Look here what I did! Isn't that delightful? Isn't that enough?</p>

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<p>@ Rebecca-<br>

I can only say what delights and surprises me. I only shoot images for my own amusement. I like the idea that a camera sees a different world than my eye-brain sees. If I stand on a busy street corner let's say, and shoot 100 frames over a few minutes, I'll find 100 delights I missed in real time, 100 surprises that never registered in my brain just using my eyes.<br>

I was not too surprised to learn some time ago of a key survival feature we humans have. Our brain filters out perhaps 98%, or more, of all inputs because it is only searching for <em>danger</em>. If it didn't do this, we'd be overwhelmed with data, and possibly miss the threats to our existence. So for me, the camera becomes an unfilter. But, that's just me.</p>

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<p><strong>Julie: "</strong>A metaphor describes by lying (a thing is what it is not)."</p>

<p>That's more of a bludgeoning, than an operant definition. In a metaphor, two different things are linked, fused or substituted, usually one is unfamiliar, referred to as the tenor, and one familiar (the vehicle). This is done to imply a higher order resemblance, tension, or structure. There are many kinds of metaphors, and some make very fine distinctions along this line.</p>

<p>It's semblance, substitution, link, etc., less so negation. My favorite thing about metaphors is that they can and often manage to convey more information than their envelopes can carry, in the sense that they can be virus-like, using few bits of information to generate much larger amounts.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p><strong>Mark: "</strong>I was not too surprised to learn some time ago of a key survival feature we humans have. Our brain filters out perhaps 98%, or more, of all inputs because it is only searching for <em>danger</em>."</p>

<p> If our brains were only searching for <em>danger</em>, we'd be extinct in short order. They're searching for a lot of other things as well: Food, water, shelter, mates, a safe route and/or environment, recognizable faces, places, animals, plants, new things, etc. And the brain rewires itself as it goes (although this varies wildly among individuals) and thus become individuated.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p><strong>(Visual) Metaphor</strong>:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p><br />"... Paul saw the face as a light that struck him to the ground; John, as the sun when it shines forth in all its strength; Teresa de Jesús, many times, bathed in serene light,although she could never say with certainty what the color of its eyes was.<br>

Those features are lost to us, as a magical number created from our customary digits can be lost, as the image in a kaleidoscope is lost forever. We can see them and yet not <em>grasp</em> them. A Jew's profile in the subway might be the profile of Christ; the hands that give us back change at a ticket booth may mirror those that soldiers nailed one day to the cross.<br>

Some features of the crucified face may lurk in every mirror; perhaps the face died, faded away, so that God might be all faces."*<br>

<br /><em>-- from the story</em>, Paradiso; XXXI, 108 <em>by Jorge Luis Borges</em></p>

</blockquote>

<p><strong>Not (Visual) Metaphor:</strong></p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"... Sometimes an idea occurs to me: I catch myself carefully scrutinizing the loved body (like [Proust's] narrator watching Albertine sleep). To scrutinize means to search: I am searching the other's body, as if I wanted to see what was inside it, as if the mechanical cause of my desire were in the adverse body (I am like those children who take a clock apart in order to find out what time is). This operation is conducted in a cold and astonished fashion; I am calm, attentive, as if I were confronted by a strange insect of which I am suddenly <em>no longer afraid</em>. Certain parts of the body are particularly appropriate to this <em>observation</em>: eyelashes, nails, roots of the hair, the incomplete objects. It is obvious that I am then in the process of fetishizing a corpse."<br>

-- <em>from</em> A Lover's Discourse <em>by Roland Barthes</em></p>

</blockquote>

<p>Returning to Barthes as he now moves <em>toward</em> that which can often best or sometimes <em>only</em> be portrayed via metaphor:</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"It is obvious that I am then in the process of fetishizing a corpse. As is proved by the fact that if the body I am scrutinizing happens to emerge from its inertia, if it begins <em>doing something</em>, my desire changes; if for instance I see the other thinking, my desire ceases to be perverse, it again becomes imaginary, I return to an Image, to a Whole: once again, I love.</p>

<p>(I was looking at everything in the other's face, the other's body, coldly: lashes, toenail, thin eyebrows, thin lips, the luster of the eyes, a mole, a way of holding a cigarette; I was fascinated -- fascination being, after all, only the extreme of detachment -- by a kind of colored ceramicized, vitrified figurine in which I could read, without understanding anything about it, <em>the cause of my desire.)"</em></p>

</blockquote>

<p>[*<em>I used religious metaphor as my first example because it is by far the most established in art tradition. My choice is not meant to privilege religious visual metaphor over any other kind.</em>]</p>

<p><strong>Luis</strong>,</p>

<p>I would never use the word "mere" to describe lies, but I take your point.</p>

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