I just wanted to share something with you all, especially Ananya, in light of what was discussed in class this past week.
I was sitting on the bus, and two girls in front of me pulled out their phone cameras, and started taking pictures of themselves. I knew that somehow, my face could end up on these pictures because of the angle they were using, so I came up with some tactics to avoid being photographed, while trying not make this evident. I tried to bend down and pretend as if I was looking at something on the ground, or in my bag. 2) I pulled out a book from my bag, and put it right up to my face, so if something in the background was to be photographed, it would be Foucault’s face, and not mine.
The point of this story is that I was so aware of being watched. And so afraid of being a part of someone else’s picture, and therefore, someone else’s memory that I conjured up tricks to avert it. The things we discussed in seminar (in terms of surveillance) are not new concepts to me, yet I feel more aware of it now than I have before.
Thats all.
Poste by Sharlene
February 23rd, 2008 at 12:25 pm
After reading Dr. Hayashi experience on the bus I have been thinking about photographs and memory and how the two are linked together. I can understand the feeling of not wanting to be photograph however I know my views on this have changed over time. In1999 my father died of a heart attack – it was sudden and unexpected. When we (my brother and mother) came back from the hospital my mother, who was in a state of shock, started digging up photographs of my father. Eight years later, she still has photos of him all over the house. We do not have video recordings of my father; therefore we do not have his voice or his image captured on scene. What we do have are photos, but that is all we have. So after my father’s death, I now know the importance of photos and the link to memory.
A second story.
A friend of mine recently told me that his cousin committee suicide by jumping off a public bridge. She had depression issues and was on medication. When she jumped, the bridge was full of people around taking photos. In order to identify the body, the police asked people who were on the bridge with cameras to review their photos. Sure enough she was captured on film. Her last moments and her last actions were captured and she was identified. Did she intend for this? I don’t think so but now her family has her last moments in photographs.
When I think about surveillance I think about these stories in my life. Would I want to be captured on some else pictures? A part of me say yes, because you never know what will happen in life – it may be the last photo taken of you. A part of me says no, I want to be able to control my image in the world therefore no candid shots for me. What puts us on edge about having our image “out there” without us knowing? Why are we concerned about someone watching without us knowing? If we are doing what we want and can account for our behavior what makes us unease about other people “having” our image? Certainly, the women on the bridge did not care that people were around or that she was going to be in their vacations shots – she was doing what she thought was right. Years down the road when people are looking at their family vacations photos, she will be there and therefore memory.
April 13th, 2008 at 5:55 am
On these matters of surveillance, and particularly Sharanpal’s anecdote about her friend’s cousin’s suicide, I wanted to share this matter with you speaking not as someone who has necessarily been photographed publicly (I’m sure I have - [vainly] how could I not be?) but as someone who has photographed publicly.
A year ago, I was directed to a thread on a subway suicide in Toronto - which is not an altogether common occurrence, contrary to popular myth they happen only five or six times a year, and are not reported out of fear that they might inspire further subway suicides. What had happened: a young man through himself in front of a train at St. Andrew station. The discussion? It had been posted on Craigslist’s Missed Connections with a person asking if anyone else was there, because apparently they wanted to discuss it with a stranger. What followed were a series of messages, some with apparently sincere mourning, others sarcastically remarking “The jumper didn’t miss his or her connection with the train.” I recorded human voices speaking these posts, some intimate and confessional, others dismissive or mocking. I spent a day with a cellphone camera videotaping crowded subway cars and the passing landscapes on exterior tracks, and then I synced them up. I know that there are faces in the film - and that some may even feel that they are being implicated in something unethical or offensive. Others would probably not care. I think most would not care. It is one of the hazards of participating in a media discourse that one will interfere, interrupt, or otherwise effect the bystander. As I was completing the video, I started to think about surveillance in those subway stations (this was at one of our many fever pitches for arguments about public surveillance), thinking that of course the act itself must have been photographed, that this was an inevitable and likely disregarded spectator to the boy’s death, in addition to these others who wanted to speak with strangers about the event, either out of a desire for catharsis for their own trauma, or maybe even a pick-up.
I’m sort of surprised by Sharlene’s initial post, when she writes “I was so aware of being watched.” I think this might be a professional hazard, our consciousness of the camera, as so many people are completely unaware of the presence of cameras.