I don’t believe in the triumph of this visual epoch’s technologies. The photo camera and the videomaker are in their heyday, but it has not always been and it will not always be so. Someday we will write, and we will describe not just external and internal impressions that are not that which we so desire, but are the obsession itself.
People. So many people on the street, and so quiet where I sit. I’m glad I can’t hear the thoughts inside each head – this quiet pretense at solipsism – and they become one blur of rushing water. The tide ebbs and flows, a blonde –black haired – man – woman – blue – eyed – tiny polka-dot bikini.
When my twin nephews see the camera they get excited. They can't yet recognize that this apparatus snaps representations that might later become the iconography of their soul, but they're attuned to the power structure of the camera. It is a shiny object that makes noises. It is a an object in the hands of someone whom they know.
Perhaps more importantly, the camera signifies a near-frantic period of participation in the child's minute-to-minute existence. When the camera appears, fingers will poke, and toys materialize, and voices coo. "Smile! Hey, Teddy! BOOGITYBOOGITYBOOBOO! BOO!"
The camera - which can create the artificial representation of existence - is surrounded by a praxis of artificial love and desire.
"The camera loves her."
"She loves getting her photo taken."
OR
"She hates getting her picture taken."
(Never: "She is indifferent about being photographed.")
1 comment:
"The tide ebbs and flows, a blonde –black haired – man – woman – blue – eyed – tiny polka-dot bikini."
::slow clap::
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