Lewis Morley

Paint a still life object, draw it, and it is at least a little interesting to me. That object has been filtered through your mind.

Screen me a movie, show me something I've never seen before (an exotic object, a new perspective, a starship dogfight or a troll), and that, also, is a little interesting.

But photograph it, and I yawn a little.

Among other things, you're cheating.

***

Show me an abstract photo, and I might think, wow, technical wizardry, nice photoshop skills, interesting effect, cute trick.

But the abstract in painting somehow means more, is closer connected to a soul.

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What's wrong with a photograph of a sculpture, or a painting?

-- (1) It's a consolation prize. Unless you're there, and you can see the brushstrokes, the unevenness of colour on canvas, you're not getting complete information, the full experience, you don't know the painting.
-- (2) It's unfairly parasitic.
-- (3) It's removed. There's an abyss between you and the subject. The photo is a barrier, not a portal.
-- (4) It puts the painting itself in quotation marks, changes the whole effect.
-- (5) And the object, the still life, in a photograph is, quite simply, a different object. I, the audience, don't bring to photographs what I bring to paintings, I don't have the same assumptions, conventions, habits of seeing.

***

Photographic objects yawnify.

But show me a photo of a person, and my pulse quickens. I am reminded of the reality of the photographing -- that a photographer was there, and a camera, and a subject.

Then my eye is hungry for information. Then I want to consume the real.

The photo is the trace or the emanation of a real person, just as the constellations we see are emanations from long-dead stars (Sontag). "These are the same eyes that gazed on the emperor" (Barthes).

***

People in films aren't like people in photos. In photos, there is a stillness and a tease or a promise.

The promise of revelation of the real.

The presentation of something that can be meditated upon, and is worthy of meditation.

Movies are dreams, fictions. In movies, you might think, Good acting, Sean. I can believe that your character is in pain. But in photos, you say, I can see that you are in pain.

Objects have no souls, have nothing to promise or reveal.

***

Morley's photos of theatre don't interest me. It's too hard to see the person. All you see are hams on stage.

You can film acting, but you can't photograph it, not if you want to record truth.

But when the subjects acts for the photographer's camera, it is a different kettle. The subject who is posed for the camera often reveals in spite of themselves. For instance, the way they try to conceal reveals.

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Sometimes your only glimpse of the real is in discomfort. Where and how it is manifested.

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Children make good subjects -- partly because they don't know what photographs are, they don't know the greedy eye. Their soul is not masked by discomfort.

When you photograph children, you often at least capture how they feel about the camera and the photographer and the situation. Irritation, curiosity, boredom… They don't censor those feelings and reactions. They are within the "truth of the moment".

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Pick an iconic image, read what the photographer has written of it, and the running theme is this: that all of those photos were accidental. The famous Christine Keeler image was the last in the roll, and at a different distance from the others. Morley just happened to see a certain perspective.

Is accident the rule?

… the old story of Lawrence Olivier, who, one night, was on fire. Amazing performance. But when asked how he did it, shook his head woefully. "I just don't know."

If he did know how he did it, would it be art?

***

Paparazzi shots -- the celebrity in an ungainly pose… We know they're bad photos. The only interesting thing is the spaghetti on their face.

What do the photos lack?

Perhaps some sort of pattern or unity. Perhaps what a good photo needs is the sense that it was intended, or could have been intended. Even if it was an accident.

***

Info about the exhibition here. It's on until September 10.

Lewis Morley's homepage here.

This article is licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License. It uses material from the Wikipedia articles Christine Keeler and Lewis Morley.

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