“Myself” vs. “My Image”

Humans move continuously through the world, constantly broadcasting information about themselves through movement, gesture, facial expression, touch, sound, smell – even subconsciously.  When two humans see, feel, smell, hear, or sense each other it is a product of the scanning and emitting of signals we all constantly and uncontrollably engage in.  We can attempt to restrain or channel these emissions, but to stop them is futile; so long as we are living we are in constant communication with others.

This inevitable and uncontrollable broadcasting has both negative and positive consequences. When we experience strong stimuli it can be difficult to contain our reactions, leading to displays of emotion inappropriate for the moment.  On the other hand, that these “emissions” are continuously replaced by one proceeding limits their power, affecting only those who pick them up. If no one sees an expression, its effects are lost forever.

Photography complicates this idea.  A photograph can freeze any one of these emissions in its place, and retain it into the future.  For example a child’s expression of joy can be captured and shared. On the other hand, an emotion we might wish to conceal can also be preserved.

The French philosopher Roland Barthes notes two other consequences.  First, he explains that because his “self” is in a state of continuous motion and change, “[it] never coincides with my image.” Barthes notes that a photograph, which captures only the emotion of a single instant, is outdated immediately after its conception.  He speaks of his self, “which is light, divided, dispersed; like a bottle-imp [it] doesn’t hold still,” in contrast to the photograph “which is heavy, motionless, stubborn.”  This difference highlights photography’s inseparable link to the past, its referent (subject) continuously becoming further and further from the present.  “What I want,” he writes, “is that my (mobile) image…should always coincide with my (profound) self.” Barthes’ sensitivity to simultaneity and time is modern in its sentiment.  Writing in 1980, his ideas and concerns preview the technology age where a constant stream of information continuously presents itself, and the transfer of data is almost instantaneous.  On the other hand, his belief that an uncapturable “profound self” exists bespeaks a desire for more human-contact-intensive relationships.

Barthes’ second conclusion is slightly more complicated.  “I am doomed,” he writes, “always to have an expression.” He laments the loss of neutrality that the constant replacement of his broadcasts provides.  Without photography, the “image” he emits changes every instant, and his “self” cannot be nailed to with a particular expression.  But with photography, he becomes connected to images plucked from his stream of emissions, and his neutral self is lost.  “My body never finds its zero degree,” he writes.  Barthes’ respect for the power of photography is clear here, as he characterizes his new self as a triangulation of the images taken of him.

TMW

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