︎ A LIFELESS PHOTO
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Photos
have no life.
I believe many would argue that photos have infinite lives. I could see that, of course. Every time a photo gets printed or distributed or is seen by a new person or even seen by the same person at a different time, it can be given a new meaning. But as we endow photos with meanings, have they really lived on their own? That is, do our interpretations of a photo serve as a proof of their living existence?
I don’t think so.
Photos are corpses. They are born corpses. The moments they are taken, they are pronounced dead. They cannot move, and they did not live. What about live photos that iPhones are able to take these days? What about them? All I can say is that they are a collection of corpses brought to “life” like figures on revolving lanterns.
Photos have always belonged to the past. Actually, photos were used for commemorative purposes solely back in time. I remember reading this somewhere: people would use a sort of human scaffolding to support a corpse only to get a decent portrait of the dead person before they were buried. Photos were directly linked to deaths.
But with the visual aids photos offer, families and friends can be rather vividly reminded of the dead. The dead person can thus live on in the heart of others. Doesn’t this mean that photos are capable of living?
Nah. It’s the memories that have lived, not the photos themselves.
What I also mean by “photos have always belonged to the past” is that the medium of photography has determined that photos can only capture fleeing moments. Technically, a camera works by locking in lights for a certain amount of time, often less than a second, thus capturing the scenes you just saw. That means the instant the photo is recorded, either onto a digital sensor or a film negative, the image already belongs to the past. I know technicalities are boring and they can sound like preaching and people don’t always perceive things from a scientific perspective. I understand that. That’s why I’m going to talk a little bit more about this issue from a more humanistic perspective.
Each photo on their own does not exist in a continuum. We live our lives whilst carrying our past with us. We grow physically and psychologically. But photos don’t do that. Experiences are discontinued, sliced, and even dissected as they become stored in the form of photos.
How do memories work? Memories are only memories if we recognize that they are experiences we’ve lost. And photos help us realize that. Photos are only able to do that without a life of their own. Cruelly, we use photos to assert our presence and existence: photos are dead, so that we can prove we have lived.
Maybe it’s the best that we never give photos the chance to live on their own. Right now, we not only own the right to take a photo but also the freedom to dispose of it. Histories can be changed, memories wiped, the truth buried, only through the swift editing of a photo. We take so much pride in the moment of documentation yet are as ruthless as we choose to claim a piece of evidence invalid. We are only to trust photos if they retain the capability of being altered, and something dead is always the best candidate for that.
That’s the beauty of a lifeless photo, isn’t it? We as humans are constantly reminded of our brilliance, power, vulnerability, and fallibility as we look at these corpses someone once deemed worth bearing. Our emotions can safely emerge as we stare into photos, knowing that they would never react, respond, resurrect, not to mention judge. We talk to them, and we hear echoes. Photos don’t have a life of their own, but they bring out the life in us.
(2021)
I believe many would argue that photos have infinite lives. I could see that, of course. Every time a photo gets printed or distributed or is seen by a new person or even seen by the same person at a different time, it can be given a new meaning. But as we endow photos with meanings, have they really lived on their own? That is, do our interpretations of a photo serve as a proof of their living existence?
I don’t think so.
Photos are corpses. They are born corpses. The moments they are taken, they are pronounced dead. They cannot move, and they did not live. What about live photos that iPhones are able to take these days? What about them? All I can say is that they are a collection of corpses brought to “life” like figures on revolving lanterns.
Photos have always belonged to the past. Actually, photos were used for commemorative purposes solely back in time. I remember reading this somewhere: people would use a sort of human scaffolding to support a corpse only to get a decent portrait of the dead person before they were buried. Photos were directly linked to deaths.
But with the visual aids photos offer, families and friends can be rather vividly reminded of the dead. The dead person can thus live on in the heart of others. Doesn’t this mean that photos are capable of living?
Nah. It’s the memories that have lived, not the photos themselves.
What I also mean by “photos have always belonged to the past” is that the medium of photography has determined that photos can only capture fleeing moments. Technically, a camera works by locking in lights for a certain amount of time, often less than a second, thus capturing the scenes you just saw. That means the instant the photo is recorded, either onto a digital sensor or a film negative, the image already belongs to the past. I know technicalities are boring and they can sound like preaching and people don’t always perceive things from a scientific perspective. I understand that. That’s why I’m going to talk a little bit more about this issue from a more humanistic perspective.
Each photo on their own does not exist in a continuum. We live our lives whilst carrying our past with us. We grow physically and psychologically. But photos don’t do that. Experiences are discontinued, sliced, and even dissected as they become stored in the form of photos.
How do memories work? Memories are only memories if we recognize that they are experiences we’ve lost. And photos help us realize that. Photos are only able to do that without a life of their own. Cruelly, we use photos to assert our presence and existence: photos are dead, so that we can prove we have lived.
Maybe it’s the best that we never give photos the chance to live on their own. Right now, we not only own the right to take a photo but also the freedom to dispose of it. Histories can be changed, memories wiped, the truth buried, only through the swift editing of a photo. We take so much pride in the moment of documentation yet are as ruthless as we choose to claim a piece of evidence invalid. We are only to trust photos if they retain the capability of being altered, and something dead is always the best candidate for that.
That’s the beauty of a lifeless photo, isn’t it? We as humans are constantly reminded of our brilliance, power, vulnerability, and fallibility as we look at these corpses someone once deemed worth bearing. Our emotions can safely emerge as we stare into photos, knowing that they would never react, respond, resurrect, not to mention judge. We talk to them, and we hear echoes. Photos don’t have a life of their own, but they bring out the life in us.
(2021)