Stranger (symbols)

[Julie H]

Thanks, Phil. Those clips are evocative.

 

 

Is 'stranger' someone we (I) don't understand/connect with, or is 'stranger' someone who doesn't understand/connect or recognize me? In other words, is the alienation because I can't find them, or is it that they make me (feel) invisible? Which of us has no place?

 

I think maybe it's the second — that they or don't/can't/won't see me. And I can tell they don't see me.

 

I'm not sure how much I care about whatever I simply don't recognize. Even if they're threatening or nasty, I can understand that. But if they don't recognize that there's a being (me!) here in front of them, then they are 'stranger.'

 

It's not that they are scary, it's that I can't find myself in their world — which should also be my world. I'm displaced.

[Julie H]

There's a danger to overanalyze things and make connections that might not be there but the fact that we can make connections even if they weren't there before is what seems to me to be the most remarkable.

 

 

"The things themselves are not what science can reach ... but only the relations between things. Outside of these relations there is no knowledge of reality." — Henri Poincare

[Norman 202]

"The things themselves are not what science can reach ... but only the relations between things. Outside of these relations there is no knowledge of reality." — Henri Poincare

Did Poincare really say that? The nearest to it I can find is

 

Mathematicians do not study objects, but the relations between objects; to them it is a matter of indifference if these objects are replaced by others, provided that the relations do not change. Matter does not engage their attention, they are interested in form alone.

[Norma Desmond]

... In dreams, the stranger makes his appearance as a shadowy figure,

Also in clichés.

Is 'stranger' someone we (I) don't understand/connect with, or is 'stranger' someone who doesn't understand/connect or recognize me?

Either or both.

But if they don't recognize that there's a being (me!) here in front of them, then they are 'stranger.'

Sounds like they'd be not just a stranger but some sort of space alien if they didn't recognize you as a being.

[Julie H]

................

 

"For virtually any other serious sickness, a patient who felt similar devastation would be lying flat in bed, possibly sedated and hooked up to the tubes and wires of life-support systems, but at the very least in a posture of repose and in an isolated setting. His invalidism would be necessary, unquestioned and honorably attained. However, the sufferer from depression has no such option and therefore finds himself, like a walking casualty of war, thrust into the most intolerable social and family situations. There he must, despite the anguish devouring his brain, present a face approximating the one that is associated with ordinary events and companionship. He must try to utter small talk, and be responsive to questions, and knowingly nod and frown and, God help him, even smile. But it is a fierce trial attempting to speak a few simple words."

 

"... A phenomenon that a number of people have noted while in deep depression is the sense of being accompanied by a second self — a wraithlike observer who, not sharing the dementia of his double, is able to watch with dispassionate curiosity as his companion struggles against the oncoming disaster, or decides to embrace it."

 

"... even in this vision [

Through a Glass Darkly

, Ingmar] Bergman (who suffered cruelly from depression) there is as sense that all of his accomplished artistry has somehow fallen short of a true rendition of the drowned mind's appalling phantasmagoria. ... Through the course of literature and art the theme of depression has run like a durable thread of woe — from Hamlet's soliloquy to the verses of Emily Dickinson and Gerard Manley Hopkins, from John Donne to Hawthorne and Dostoevski and Poe, Camus and Conrad and Virginia Woolf. In many of Albrecht Dürer's engravings there are harrowing depictions of his own melancholia; the manic wheeling stars of Van Gogh are the precursors of the artist's plunge into dementia and the extinction of self. It is a suffering that often tinges the music of Beethoven, of Schumann and Mahler, and permeates the darker cantatas of Bach. The vast metaphor which most faithfully represents this fathomless ordeal, however, is that of Dante, and his all-too-familiar lines still arrest the imagination with their augury of the unknowable, the black struggle to come:

In the middle of the journey of our life

I found myself in a dark wood,

For I had lost the right path.

 

— all of the above is from Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness by William Styron; ... and, if your wondering, no, I don't suffer from depression

 

****************************************************************

 

 

it's that I can't find myself in their world — which should also be my world. I'm displaced.

 

A trivial example of that in everyday experience can be seen in this picture:

 

from A to B by Martin Parr

 

Gillian Wearing has done some interesting experimentation with masks reference her memories of herself where she makes and wears masks from her much younger self, whom she no longer identifies with. She has also done work where she simply wears a mask of her current self:

 

by Gillian Wearing

 

..................

[Julie H]

Phil's linked dream videos, where you never really see who or what is (not) there, and yet which make the mind almost wildly active in searching and in filling in what is (not) there, made me think of this video by Jim Campbell:

 

...................

 

*

*

 

"I cannot escape, in my observations, from the irony that the visual languages of naturalism and realism are simple codes, every bit as artificial as the greatest excesses of the baroque." — portrait artist, Stuart Pearson Wright

...................

[movingfinger]

We are all strangers to each other, we are all strangers to the mystery of why we even here and able to ask the questions we do. Perhaps its because I came of age when I did, but I have read Albert Camus' book The Stranger more than once in my life so far and I am still haunted by it. Thinking about this topic I took this photograph just a few days ago.

 

[Julie H]

John, can you say more about why you find 'stranger' in your picture? It's very quiet, almost sound-proof and has imposed order/hierarchy, but it seems very much about the group. Is it because the room and the order is so sterile?

 

I'd also been thinking about Camus' The Stranger re this thread. And also almost every film made by Robert Bresson. If you've seen any of them, 'stranger' is ... done to a T.

[Norma Desmond]

Stranger, to me, is implied in John's picture by absence and separation.

[movingfinger]

John, can you say more about why you find 'stranger' in your picture? It's very quiet, almost sound-proof and has imposed order/hierarchy, but it seems very much about the group. Is it because the room and the order is so sterile?

Julie: I "came of age" in the late 60's and went to college when existentialism was in vogue and it struck a chord with me. I considered myself 'cool' by classifying myself as an existentialist. "Ah but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."

 

In any case, the notion of 'stranger' supposes a relationship between individuals, and thus it takes two (or more) to try to represent the notion. I guess one could call the two parties "the strange-er" and "the strange-ee". It is the strange-ee (or strange-ees if more than one) who for whatever reason perceives the strange-er as different, as alien. You brought all this out nicely in the definitions and examples you gave in your original post on this thread. I mentioned Camus earlier, another classic writer and hero to existentialists everywhere, who delved into this realm was Kafka, and one result was his novel "The Trial". My photo tries to hint at an absurd trial, yes the jury is supposed to consist of peers, but when the trial is absurd the defendant is a stranger.

 

Now you'd be right to challenge my assertion that it takes two to represent the notion of 'stranger'. Especially for an existentialist (at least ones such as Camus, Kafka and also one such as I was and maybe still am) one can be a stranger to oneself. But I better stop here before I get in any deeper and while I'm still making a bit of sense, at least to myself.o_O

[Julie H]

.................

 

Now you'd be right to challenge my assertion that it takes two to represent the notion of 'stranger'.

 

... Jorge Luis Borges could do it for me ... :)

 

 

It's interesting that both Phil and John use pictures without people to suggest 'stranger.'

 

Here is Irving Penn giving what I think is a wonderful description of how connection (overcoming disconnection or 'stranger') is almost always generated by the making of a picture:

 

"I set up camp in the foothills of the Himalayas, in the villages and savannas of West Africa, in the Atlas Mountains on the edge of the Sahara, and a number of times among the tribesmen of New Guinea. And what each experience had in common with the others, although in varying degrees, was what became for me the most surprising and fascinating fact. Taking people away from their natural circumstances and putting them into the studio in front of a camera did not simply isolate them, it

transformed them

. Sometimes the change was subtle; sometimes it was great enough to be almost shocking.

 

[

line break added

] But always there

was

transformation. As they crossed the threshold of the studio, they left behind some of the manners of their community, taking on a seriousness of self--presentation that would not have been expected of simple people. As I look back through these essays I am struck by the fact that the one characteristic all these various people seem to have in common is that they rose to the experience of being looked at by a stranger, in most cases from another culture, with dignity and a seriousness of concentration that they would never have had ten or fifteen feet away, outside the studio, in their own surroundings.

 

"The studio became, for each of us, a sort of neutral area. It was not their home, as I had brought this alien enclosure into their lives; it was not my home, as I had obviously come from elsewhere, from far away. But in this limbo there was for us both the possibility of contact that was a revelation to me and often, I could tell, a moving experience for the subjects themselves, who without words — by only their stance and their concentration — were able to say much that spanned the gulf between our different worlds."

 

One of Penn's particular descriptions that made me smile was this one about his shoot in Crete:

 

"The old-timers watched the preparation with interest and considerable laughing and whispering. When I then asked them to be subjects of the pictures, they were first surprised, then shy, then altogether delighted, and grouped themselves around the opening of the studio like excited children. Those I chose for each picture were the envy of the others. They planted themselves firmly in front of the camera as though they meant to stay for a long time. When a picture was finished, they were reluctant to leave the camera. I had to put my arm around each and firmly lead him out to the others."

 

However, Penn did encounter 'stranger.' In Morocco, there were the 'Blue People' of the desert:

 

"It was a disappointment to me that I was never able to entice these beautiful people into the studio to be photographed. They simply saw no point in posing. This was not their kind of vanity, and they could not be bought."

 

Still in Morocco, he also did not feel that he really connected with the guedra dancers in Goulimine:

"We invited these mysterious

guedra

women to pose for us. ... Those chosen sat, eyes fixed on the lens, enjoying the camera's scrutiny yet themselves impenetrable, unhurried during the considerable time we spent together. The time I took with them as subjects gave dignity to their calling in the eyes of townspeople who passed by. They are on film. What is revealed is no more than these mysterious creatures meant us to know."

 

Here are two of the guedra pictures:

 

Irving Penn, guedra dancers 1

Irving Penn, guedra dancers 2

 

...................

[Norman 202]

Here is Irving Penn giving what I think is a wonderful description of how connection (overcoming disconnection or 'stranger') is almost always generated by the making of a picture

 

is a connection made, or "stranger" unmade, when people act unnaturally, when people pose with dignity and a seriousness of concentration that they would never have had ten or fifteen feet away, outside the studio, in their own surroundings.

 

nowadays, unless the photographer makes an effort, most people adopt the universal v-sign when posing for strangers. this is not making a connection, it is putting up a barrier, keeping a distance, desiring anonymity.

Edited August 9, 2017 by Norman 202

[Norma Desmond]

is a connection made, or "stranger" unmade, when people act unnaturally, when people pose with dignity and a seriousness of concentration that they would never have had ten or fifteen feet away, outside the studio, in their own surroundings.

Sometimes, a connection can especially be made under these circumstances. A strong "unnatural" pose will often have inescapable intention behind it. It can command attention and reveal commitment. "I'm doing this for you and I mean what I show," an obvious pose can say. Acting and gesturing unnaturally, if it forms a relationship with the expression and the moment, can be a deliberate reaching out and act as an unexpected embrace. Being more natural, on the other hand, can read as blasé or disinterested, and be disconnected.

[Norman 202]

i agree a "connection" can be made but not in the sense of overcoming strangeness which was Julie's point

[Norma Desmond]

i agree a "connection" can be made but not in the sense of overcoming strangeness which was Julie's point

Didn't Arbus do it to some extent? Mapplethorpe? Avedon? Brassai?

[Uhooru]

It seems difficult to see a discussion about "stranger" without mentioning Diane Arbus who made a career of photographing strangers, or at least what she conceived would be considered strange by the normal society of the day.

 

"I do feel I have some slight coma or something about the quality of things. I mean it’s very subtle and a little embarrassing to me, but I really believe there are things which nobody would see unless I photographed them" - Diane

Arbus

and her by now well known...."Most people go through life dreading they'll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were born with their trauma. They've already passed their test in life. They're aristocrats." - Diane Arbus

I think you can almost substitute the word "stranger" for freak for this thread. But her photos of these people weren't about alienation to me. She connected quite well, and in their lives they were not necessarily alienated from society. Its just that the society they inhabited was pretty much "stranger" to the larger society and a lot of viewers had a hard time relating to the photographs.

 

But to me there is no greater total deconstruction of connecting to another being than Witkin's work with corpses. I find it hard to even write about it. Stranger in fact and symbol.

[Norma Desmond]

She connected quite well, and in their lives they were not necessarily alienated from society.

Barry, don't know if you got to see the recent Arbus exhibit that's been traveling around the country. I was fortunate enough to see it on both coasts. After seeing it here in San Francisco, I happened across a essay by Sontag (linked below). I don't agree with all Sontag has to say, but she makes some interesting historical and cultural points. There's a whole host of ways we connect and Sontag does a good job in exploring the kind of connection Arbus and others actually establish. The review was written almost 45 years ago, after one of Arbus's early exhibitions, but still seems relevant today, if not more relevant given some of the now-ingrained views about Arbus's work that Sontag calls into question.

 

SONTAG ON ARBUS

[Uhooru]

I didn't get a chance to see it and I'm mad at myself for not coming up to the City to see it. Thanks for the link, I will read it.

[Norman 202]

Didn't Arbus do it to some extent? Mapplethorpe? Avedon? Brassai?

Don't know. I was basing my argument on what Penn said (about taking people away from their natural environment) and what Julie inferred from it.

[Norma Desmond]

Don't know. I was basing my argument on what Penn said (about taking people away from their natural environment) and what Julie inferred from it.

Got it. Just read what Penn said and I see it as being about how the process transforms. As a matter of fact, he talks a lot about disconnection (from who they are).

 

I think this is one of things that can be so liberating about photography. While, on one level, photos can seem almost a hyper-representation of reality, on another level, a photo is also a severing from the reality of what's being shot. By disrupting context, by framing, by stilling, we disconnect subjects from their usual predicates.

 

As to his relationship to these people, I notice he uses the word "contact" and not "connection." There's something important there. Contact, to me, suggests something more surface oriented than connection.

 

Avedon talked about the importance of surfaces. I think sometimes when we dive too deep, we don't actually scratch the surface.

Edited August 9, 2017 by Norma Desmond

[Julie H]

..........

Barry, I don't feel at all disconnected from Arbus's people, nor do I feel that she and they are disconnected. I don't see a refusal to connect between the people in her work. They may or may not be crazy about each other, but they're definitely interacting, to my eye.

 

****************************

 

Returning to my earlier post:

 

Is 'stranger' someone we (I) don't understand/connect with, or is 'stranger' someone who doesn't understand/connect or recognize me? In other words, is the alienation because I can't find them, or is it that they make me (feel) invisible? Which of us has no place?

 

Here is the late photographer/artist David Wojnarowicz:

 

"I'm a blank spot in a hectic civilization. I'm a dark smudge in the air that dissipates without notice. I feel like a window, maybe a broken window. I am a glass human. I am a glass human disappearing in rain. I am standing among all of you waving my invisible words."

 

"I carry silence like a blood-filled egg, ready to drop it into someone's hands."

 

"I've slipped through the keyhole of an enormous psychic erector set of child civilization. I'm the robotic kid lost from the blind eye of government and wandering edges of a computerized landscape; all civilization is turning like one huge gear in my forehead. I'm seeing my hands and feet grow thousands of miles long and millions of years old and I'm experiencing the exertion it takes to move these programmed limbs. I'm the robotic kid, the human motor-works, and surveying the scene before me I wonder: what can these feet level, what can these feet pound and flatten, what can these hands raise?"

 

..................

[movingfinger]

I don't agree with all Sontag has to say, but she makes some interesting historical and cultural points. There's a whole host of ways we connect and Sontag does a good job in exploring the kind of connection Arbus and others actually establish.

Thanks for the link to Sontag's essay. I am stimulated and inspired very much by Susan's writings on photography and I had not come across this review before. Like you, I don't agree with everything she says but just the way she says it inspires.

[Brad_]

Barry... To your post above, I'd also include Avedon's In the American West series, his four year road trip through western states photographing people from under-the-surface walks of life, bringing to light a non-Hollywood "west" not known to many east of the Mississippi.

 

He took a lot of criticism from many feeling he was trying to (re)define the west, on his terms, and out of his realm being a New Yorker. Though I have his book of American West portraits, one I like equally was authored by his assistant and photographer, Laura Wilson. In her book she documented his behind the scenes process of engagement and photographing of subjects from state to state as a kind of chronological road trip. It's one of my most valued photography books, and pretty much got me stoked on hitting up strangers on the street for conversation and portraits.

[Julie H]

This is a transcript from the documentary, Richard Avedon: Darkness and Light. He's in conversation with Sandra Bennett, who is now eighteen, but was twelve when he took her picture. She's the one who was on the cover of one of the versions of the American West books (in bib overalls with lots of freckles):

 

Sandra Bennett

: ... And the picture was

awful

, you know, your worst hair day, clothes day, and everything all in one day, the worst photo of your life that you want to bury and it is right there on the front of this book and I was mortified, I was a senior in high school, I was home coming queen, and I had this photo coming back to haunt me.

 

What was very difficult for me was that you caught me, you said "vulnerable" that was true, but also bare-bottom, really exposed where I try to cover everything, my friends would wear shorts in summertime when I wouldn't ...

 

Richard Avedon

: What were you covering? The freckles?

 

SB

: Oh, absolutely!

 

RA

: You can't say you weren't in the pictures. That's what is confusing about photography. You can't say you weren't

there

. But you have to accept that you were there, and the control is with the photographer.

 

I have the control in the end, but I can't do it alone, you have a lot to say, which by that I mean the way you look, the way you confront the camera, and all the experience with trusting or not trusting, you have a certain amount of control, but in the end I can tear the pictures up, I can choose the smiling one or the serious one ... or I can exaggerate something through the printing. It's lending yourself to artists.

 

[end of transcript]

 

Brad, is that how you shoot? If somebody hates the picture you made, do you tell them you're the one in control and they're lending themselves to the artist?

 

Not to pick on Avedon, I think the Migrant Mother wasn't too happy with Dorothea Lange, nor, according the James Agee, were the people photographed by Walker Evans in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. But I don't think that means there wasn't contact: it means that we're getting one side of the story in the picture — such are human relations. For something to show 'stranger' at least one side of the relationship has to be incomprehension, a feeling that connection is not possible; and I don't see that in any of the above. (I think Sandra Bennett has a pretty clear understanding of Avedon, whether Avedon realizes it or not.)

[Brad_]

Brad, is that how you shoot?

 

No, not at all. For me, making a portrait of a subject is a collaboration, as brief as it is.

 

If somebody hates the picture you made, do you tell them you're the one in control and they're lending themselves to the artist?

 

No. But I've yet to have anyone tell me they didn't like their photograph. Still, if someone were to express such a feeling after handing them a print at a future encounter (or an image file via mail or email), saying something similar to the above would not even enter my mind.