Why it does not have to be in focus portraits dbtheselfandtheother gas city indiana zip code


Post created for quotes/notes made in response to reading the portrait section of Why It Does Not Have To Be In Focus: Modern Photography Explained, by Jackie Higgins. This post will be updated/responses will be added as I read through–a different post will be made for each section. Until then, it’ll probably be just a list of referenced quotes.

This is something I understand since I’m always messing with my images; they rarely feel finished straight from the camera. However, I mess with my images with intention (for the most part) and the things I do to my images have meaning (even if I’m not quite sure how my final image will look, I usually know how I’m going to manipulate before I make them). That said, I’m always pretty chuffed when an image I make works so well that I end up leaving it alone. Anyway, I include this quote because sometimes my constant manipulation causes me to wonder if I’m less of a photographer (surely a good/competent photographer can pop something straight out of the camera). According to the above, I’m a-okay.

This whole fact/fiction thing has always interested me, especially since I do so much self-portraiture. is there a gas station near me In other words, I see myself and, of course, the things I don’t like about myself are the things I try not to reveal. I suppose, then, you could say that many of my images are fiction. But you know, I’m okay with that. Meaning who says a self-portrait (or any portrait) has to be truth?

Note that I have made (and posted to my IG account) a couple of self-portraits that do show things that I would normally try to hide, and I want to work more with this type of image. Working with models will help explore this idea of truth, I suppose, because I don’t critique other people as much as I critique myself. (This is something I explored with last IG post—the corresponding image with text is shown below—however, after viewing this image again, it’s clear to see that I’m still hiding something. I guess I’m still not ready to be completely honest just yet).

I love this idea of hiding inside the image—something I do when I make self-portraits (or try to do, I should say)—it’s that whole truth/fiction thing again. For me, it also questions how much of the subject can be revealed by an image… arguably, not very much at all. Plus, that anti-narcissistic thing is so important to me. electricity quiz and answers I see some work (especially on Instagram) and it’s all about promoting the self–it’s all a little look at me/see how beautiful I am. I wonder, do people who make this kind of work understand what they are doing/do it with intention? And, if so, why do I find it so … odd? Or perhaps I totally misreading every image I regard as self-promotion? (I would include an example but the last thing I want is destroy someone else’s work/art). Worse, am I reading other people’s work as self-promotion in effort to convince myself that my images are not self-promotion? Because, even though I’m sure my images are not about me, a narcissist would say that.

It’s funny, but when people make portraits, it seems the idea is to reveal something about the subject… to get something in the image that communicates some truth/fact about the person photographed. This is something I’ve been concerned about during the last few weeks when thinking about how I’m going to photograph models and what I want my images to say. Now what I’m thinking is: stuff it. Why not create an image that says nothing at all about the model? Why not make an image that hides who the model is in real life? (text made red because I *really* don’t want to forget this idea).

Something I have been thinking about lately is background. Or, in my photography, the lack of background. I mention this because, in the book, Higgins states that, “Friedlander uses awkward compositions beyond his self-portraits” 6 (Higgins, 2013: 13) Generally, I avoid backgrounds because I find they get in the way, detract from my subject (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been annoyed at my skirting board). That said, it’s difficult to avoid when making most of your images inside a house—even though I have a whole photography-room, inevitably plugs/walls/doors get in the way.

I recently found myself in an horrible situation when I had a friend staying at the house for two months and I had to give my photography-room over to a guest bedroom. I found it so difficult to make images during that time (I think my lack of image-making is the reason why it’s taken me so long to get back into study), and the reason why I found it so difficult was that I couldn’t find a way to work with my background (furniture/rooms/typical house stuff). Anyway, my point: perhaps I need to think about the awkwardness of backgrounds—perhaps a busy background will be a wonderful way to lose my subject a little more?

I really like the irony of Turk’s approach to this idea of being unable to see anything concrete in a portrait; it’s not just his closed eyes, his blank expression (no engagement with viewer), but the flat lighting/title/muted background. Because, honestly, even with the understanding that photography (mine included) attempts to reveal something about the sitter, can it ever reveal anything? And even if it does, when you consider how Barthes suggests that a subject poses for the camera in a way that communicates intended meaning—a subject is as he or she imagines him- or herself in the image before the image is even made—is that something revealed worth anything?

What I love about Turk’s image is how I feel when viewing it; it’s calming, quite serene, and (oddly enough since I describe the image as calming/serene) it seems, almost, as if I’m looking at someone dead. In a morgue (but painted to look pretty). hp gas kushaiguda phone number It’s as if the subject is resting/peaceful and nothing of who he was in life is left… as if the body has been made for viewing. Talk about a major success for someone trying to explore just how little is communicated about the sitter of a portrait.

Of course, I’ve looked at Wearing’s work before and what I love about the images she makes wearing masks is how there’s something a little off/creepy about them even though, at first glance, they appear so authentic/real. For me, in the above example, it’s how the skin seems a little flat/plastic, and almost mannequin-like. The hair, too, is a bit of a giveaway–too shiny, too stiff… something wrong. I believe that I would think the same even if I knew nothing about context/masks. Consider a further example of her work, shown below 12:

I find the image above so much more disturbing than the first (and I love that it’s disturbing, btw). For me, black and white really works; further to it conveying a sense of nostalgia, it is so much more forgiving than colour and, at first glance, the subject appears even more real than the subject of the first image. That said, the fact that Wearing is wearing a mask is clear–it’s the eyes, of course (the edge of the mask is visible). I think that’s why this image disturbs me so much more than the first… it looks so right and yet so, so wrong. electricity generation by source by state Even though I can see that Wearing is wearing a mask, the girl appears so authentic; it could almost be an image of a girl who’d had some type of reconstructive surgery (another reason why I find it disturbing).

I could apply the above to so many personal situations but the best one, I think, is my father. My father was an awful binge drinker/alcoholic who got extremely violent/aggressive and terrorized the whole family during his rages. As a child, I always tried to reach out to people who could help but the problem was that no one ever saw my father’s rages and, unless you lived next door, you’d never believe it simply by seeing him.

My point: you never really know anything about anyone based on appearance alone. Even when you see them in the real world–so why or how could an image be different? Even a sitter for an image appears how he or she wants to appear (or, if directed by the photographer, how the photographer wants the sitter to appear). While I understand this is all opinion, what can I say? For me, a sitter (even when the sitter is me) is like an actor playing a role in a film. And the film–just like the photograph–gives no real insight at all. Sure, I could get something about the real person in an image. gas stations in texas For example, maybe the sitter bakes cakes every day; I could communicate that easily enough by photographing the sitter baking. That said, would I really be photographing the baker as the baker is in real life? Or would I be photographing the baker as the baker aspires to be?

The diptych above was made for someone (a wonderful artist I connected with on IG) who actually wanted my work up on his wall (it is also one of the images being exhibited in December, at a small show in Washington). This image is about my life on Prozac and how, irrelevant of the good it did (I have since stopped taking it), it changed me on some level. The image on the left is about the internal struggles I had actually swallowing the pill (and the sadness/hopelessness it masked, I suppose). The image on the right is me, but not… a “me” changed (the green is, of course, a similar tone to the pill and–dare I say it–Hulk/alien/sick). These are things I tried to reveal in the image–the image’s truth, you could say. gas used in ww1 The lies, however, are in the construction of the image–the lighting/the crop, the overlays–and how I made sure that my body looked okay.

I’m just so into the image above. I love how the white makes the fragmented face/body pop, almost as if the image is trying to be what it’s not… here I am/here I’m not. The focus does the same thing for me–sharp on the face, however, a face that is so confused/messed up it’s difficult to see/put together (it makes me feel like Photoshopping and reordering the segments in attempt to see who is actually hiding in the mirror).

I connect so well with this idea of a fragmented self… it fits the context of my own life/photography. Even though I sound like a record on loop, that hidden/revealing theme is what works for me. I really want to continue this exploration of how to reveal but also hide at the same time… to bring someone close while keeping them at a comfortable distance, I suppose… to maintain anonymity. Note: I think this idea of maintaining anonymity is what allows me to make the images I make. I’ve already talked about what a skin-prude I am in real life but what I haven’t said is how rare it is for me to talk about my head-issues with other people. Maintaining anonymity makes it *so* much easier.

While the book explores the work of so many other photographers, I’m not sure further examples will add to this post. The images I’ve viewed/texts I’ve read reconfirm what I want to achieve in my very first model shoot (and, possibly, all other model shoots for this module): a way to reveal but also hide. Maybe I will think of other things that I want my images to say–maybe other things will come to me once I’ve made/viewed the images. But for now my intention is to show how we reveal while holding back.