Unknown photographer. Gelatin silver print. Collection of Cobie Hijma. (back)

The young man in this picture is supposed to show nothing else than his best attire, confidence and readiness for whatever crap Life might throw at him, yet I sense some sort of awkward resistance in his thoughtful presence. Maybe a refusal to grow up—or it could be the gorgeously decorated but incredibly uncomfortable-looking chair pushing exactly the most painful spots in his back.

For some, it is an unwelcome moment in life: becoming an adult. Facing the expectations of the world, official authorities demanding respect they often don’t seem to have earned, making a living—cleaning up your own filth. Society and its hopes are often just as uncomfortable as some furniture to sit on: they might be lovely to look at, but there are a few who wish to have nothing else to do with it.

The source of my unease might be his lips: not smiling, not strict, simply in the process of just about trying to say something, frozen in time with the unspoken thought trapped in his mind. „I actually wanted to be an actor.” „I’m not that much into law, you know, but I’m to take over the family business one day.” „What did you say again? Why can’t I have my instrument in this picture?” “Could you please hand me a pen? I would like to feel more in charge of my own fate.”

But then again, can I even imagine what a young man about a century ago might have felt? Those were different times. It is hard enough to imagine what people around 18 think these days. I was there only 20 years ago, and that was a different era. Times change dizzyingly fast.

There is probably one thing that might feel more or less the same, however: the pains of “growing” some sort of stature, whatever that might be. Studying well, raising a family, having a big enough car or the latest gadgets, a higher and higher salary—or just a little money left at the end of the month so that one doesn’t have to worry about the basics until the next payment arrives.

What even is stature? Just another construct? Can one carefully refurbish the existing model and respectfully reshape it more to their liking? I can only hope.

Tired of looking at my backside? Check out my front!

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Unknown photographer, probably 1930s. Gelatin silver print.

Collection of Réka Szentirmay. (front)

This gracefully painterly piece of treasure always reminds me of the brilliance of the unforeseen. I am fascinated by the delightful “mistakes” produced by humans or mechanical hiccups within the camera. Amongst such photographs, this is definitely the most beloved item in my collection, its pictorial qualities only heightened by its unfinishedness.

Look at this well-dressed lady frozen in the middle of a thought, blurry like a ghost. She wants to say something but it’s too late. Her time to shine is about to end, the narrow chance she had to share an idea is now gone. She hardly had time to pronounce the first syllable. She surrenders, the agony of rusting ignorance and unfairness shadowing her face. She has not given up yet, however. She will return, again and again. Until she can finally finish what she wants to say.

The perfect photographic representation of a Sisyphean task, this picture is nothing less than pain materialised. The essence of womanhood: the lingering annoyance of being unheard, being underestimated.

What an amazing object a photograph is, so readily giving itself to project our own feelings onto it! Regardless of who took this picture and when that happened, I feel a strong connection to the sitter and her torments—even though it could be simply an ill-timed imprint of an otherwise entirely happy moment. For me, it echoes the struggles all women face.

A pity that many do not realise that all that’s needed is the chances given. Honestly, that is all a human wants.

There is another side to every story. And it’s just one click away!

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Photography’s eye

Unknown photographer, probably 1930s. Gelatin silver print. Collection of Réka Szentirmay. (back)

Photography has a complex relationship with its subject. It was the first medium that derived its imagery from the physical world around us, rather than the artist´s imagination. When portraying a person, that also meant that the person in question was physically confronted with the apparatus. The camera looked the subject in the eye, or vice versa. 

However, it has finally been accepted that a photograph is not necessarily an objective representation of what it faced in the world. Even in the early days of photography, manipulation of the final image was practise in many ways. When portrait photography became more widespread in the early 1900s, photographers already employed photoshop-avant-la-lettre by giving subjects some healthy rosy cheeks or reducing a waist.  

Looking into photography’s eye and being confronted with the (objective?) result, a representation of the self, can be scary. It lays bare parts of ourselves that we might not always be happy to see. Looking at yourself from an outside perspective is alienating in itself, but the camera can also emphasize what you might consider your flaws. Some culture critics have even described photography as stealing (part of) the soul of the portrayed. 

Another aspect of photography is that it eternalizes something that occurs at a specific moment in time in a permanent image, thereby emphasizing it. This moment might otherwise have been fleeting, but because it was seen by photography’s eye, it gains meaning. As a result, it might also be seen by a much bigger audience. A photograph can circulate for way longer, in different places, among far more people. 

To quote General Hammond in Stargate SG-1 S07E17, “cameras don’t just record things. They change what they record just by being there”. When photography just emerged in the second half of the nineteenth century, this was true because the technique was new. This both intrigued and was met with suspicion. People were not yet sure how this medium worked. Nowadays, most of us are very much aware of the power of the photographic image and how easy it is to manipulate. This makes us suspicious as to why an image is taken. And because photography’s eye has become smaller and smaller over time, we are also always weary if our image is taken without us knowing. 

The camera, photography’s eye, can be a torturous instrument. It can turn the private into the obscene; force its subjects to perform a role in front of the lens, to show a better version of themselves. This is very much the case nowadays with social media. Vloggers, bloggers and influencers are creating a perfect online life through images, which perhaps blurs the boundaries between fiction and real life a little too much. An example is the mommy blog, in which parents document their children’s whole lives to share with their followers, and the world. These children cannot yet give their formal consent and are sucked into this world involuntarily. If they grow up with the constant presence of photography’s eye, will they ever know what is real and what is for the show? Will they know who they are when not in front of a camera? Or will photography really steal their souls? 

Tired of looking at my backside? Check out my front!

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