Fragmentary Notes §42—§45

§42

We frequently speak of “loving” and “cherishing” photographs. But what do we mean by this? What are we really expressing our “love” for? What is the genuine object of our “cherishment”? As soon as we begin to reflect upon the nature of photographs, we uncover webs of subtle and unconscious knots—confusions resulting not only from the haziness of common expressions and causal parlance, but also from the enigmatic relationship between what a thing “is” and what it is “of”—a relation of identity-in-difference.

§43

A photograph both is, and is not, itself. Indeed, a photograph is a photograph only insofar as it vanishes into what is “other” than itself—a hilly landscape, a blooming flower, a colorful bowl of fruit, etc. The visual medium “discloses” a message; and in disclosing the message, it must, in some respect, be in contact with it through a point of shared identity. The identity of every photograph is dependent upon its own self-abasement and self-denial as a stand-alone, self-dependent, and self-contained being. Mere “likeness” or “similarity” fails to capture the essence of the relationship between a photograph and its subject matter. And understanding this relationship is essential for grasping what we really mean when we speak of “loving” and “cherishing” photographs.

§44 

A photograph’s meaning, subject-matter, and value is determined by the person who comes into contact with it (physically or digitally). A photograph–by itself–is rarely the object of sentimental attachment. We treasure a photograph because of an object, event, or scene that lies outside or beyond the photograph—the photograph being a digital or chemical “representation” of said object, event, or scene. We “cherish” a photograph only insofar as we “love” what is “represented” by means of it or what is “disclosed” through it. We “treasure” and protect a photograph because it puts us into contact with an object of love and concern–and in most cases, this object has long since vanished.

§45

Unlike a photographic print, a digital photograph is, almost always, something “transparent”—like a glass window. If I am inside my house, I may see an object or event that is occurring outside “by means of” a glass window, or “through” a glass window. The glass window facilitates my view of the object or event without itself becoming the object of my attention or concern.