Photographs are inexorably tied to memory. After all, every photograph becomes, de facto, a trace of something past mere moments after it is created - click the shutter, glance at the LCD and, voila, instant 'memory' - a visual fragment of something from the past.
This self-evident characteristic of the photographic medium evidences itself in 2 distinctly different manners.
On the surface of things, it can flesh-out specific details in the service of voluntary memory - the conscious attempt to recall the past. In this capacity, it serves as a document that can be rich with remarkably accurate 'details and fragments' of that which one is trying to (re)call to mind. For instance, if I want to remember what my childhood house at 321 West Malloy Road looked like, nothing can illustrate the details like a photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road (aka, the 'referent'), circa 1950-55.
On the other hand, if I pull out a photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road, circa 1953-55, and start to study the details, another type of memory - involuntary memory (derived from the 'connoted')- kicks in. My mind, my heart and my soul are flooded with memories of a life lived at the house at 321 West Malloy Road. I 'see' my mom and dad, my brothers, the games, the sun, the snow and the rain of my childhood. It all comes flooding back - not with the clarity and detail found in the photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road, but full-bodied and rich with emotion nevertheless.
I suspect that 'involuntary memory' plays a key role in the meaning an observer of a
Roadside memory • click on photo to embiggen it photograph (in this case, functioning as a 'trigger') creates for him/herself. I suspect that if I were to show you a photograph of my house at 321 West Malloy Road, circa 1950-55, for you, it, at first glance, would be a simple document of the past - a house, circa 1950-55. But I also suspect that without too much prompting, it would trigger a flood of involuntary memories of your childhood house/home.
And, no doubt, this flood of memories would cause you to 'feel' a specific emotion(s) - happiness, sadness, loss, joy,, etc. - which you would 'attach' to the photograph as meaning, your meaning.
A meaning which certainly did not exist in the mind of the photographer.
Featured Comment: both Steve Durbin amd Paul Butzi took issue with the statement - 'A meaning which certainly did not exist in the mind of the photographer.' In both cases, they stated that a photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road would be affected by the state of mind of the photographer and that state of mind would be evident to the observer of the photograph.
To which I would add a resounding 'maybe'.
A photographer, who was aware of and very adept at using the apparatus of the medium, could indeed create a photograph that conveyed happiness, sadness, etc. But in the case of any photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road at my disposal (consequently, the one I would show you), the photographer was either my father or grandfather. I can state unequivocally that neither was even aware of the apparatus of the medium much less trying in any manner to imbue the photographs with any such emnotion(s). They were engaged in making documents, a record of the house for the family album.
For all I know, they were recording a new paint job on the trim, a fresh cut lawn, a new lawn ornament, new shingles on the roof, or who knows what. The fact is, I just don't know what they were thinking at the pro-filmic moment, and, if I had mentioned that phrase or anything like it to them, they would have looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears - especially since I was only 3-8 years old during the circa in question.
As a single document, I think any photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road is very emotion-neutral. In the greater context of the family album - me and my friends, me and my brothers, me and Ginger Dockweller, me at Notre Dame football games, me and ... (well, you get what I'm driving at) I am pretty certain that, for all but the most twisted, the house at 321 West Malloy Road would be assumed to be a happy one.
Featured Comment: Paul Butzi wrote (in part): "Sigh. That's not what I said ... (I (the publisher) said - In both cases, they stated that a photograph of the house at 321 West Malloy Road would be affected by the state of mind of the photographer and that state of mind would be evident to the observer of the photograph.) ... How you got from what I wrote to what you think I wrote, I haven't a clue."
publisher's response: Paul, my apologies. There was no intent to misrepresent what you wrote. My synopsis-reasoning went like this:
When you wrote that the 'vast majority of photographs like this are made with ... specific intent', I deduced that 'specific intent' indicated a 'state of mind' on the part of the photographer. And I deduced further that the photographer intended that the photograph, created with that 'state of mind', communicate the 'specific intent', which flowed from his/her 'state of mind', to the observer. To go a step further, I also deduced from the preceeding that you thought that the observer would 'get it'.
Friday, March 16, 2007 at 07:36AM 
Yesterday's ice jam in the Forks is gone, so here's yesterday's intended topic - emerging.
