I’ve recently been reading “Non-Things” by South Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han. As the back cover explains, the book is about how “the terrestrial order is giving way to a digital order, the world of things is being replaced by a world of non-things.” So far, it has been both helpful and insightful. I was surprised to find that the book includes a chapter entirely about the overlap of this issue with photography, in which Han provides a hearty dose of criticism towards digital photography:1
Analogue photography transfers the traces of light coming form the object, via the negative, on to paper. The analogue photograph is an image of light. […] The digital medium translates light into data. In this process, the light is lost. In digital photography, alchemy gives way to mathematics. It disenchants photography
He continues:
Analogue photography … is in love with reality […] digital photography is pure illusion. Digital photography is not an emanation but an elimination of the referent. Digital photography does not have an intense, libidinal attachment to the object. It does not immerse itself in the object, does not fall in love with it. It does not call upon it, does not enter into dialogue with it. It is not based on a singular, unique, irrevocable encounter with the object.
And finally:
The digital communication of images de-reifies them into pure information.
As a photographer, this chapter in particular gave me a lot to chew on. I’m still chewing, but two initial thoughts have been sitting in my mind since I read the chapter.
Engaged Digital Photography
It is probably worth pointing out that Han seems to be addressing not so much digital photography per se, but rather the pervasive creation of digital images via smartphones and the like. The chapter on photography is actually entitled “Selfies,” which provides some perspective on what the chapter is primarily addressing. Selfies, he points out, aren’t even intended to be printed, because they also aren’t really intended to be remembered. They’re about a moment more than about a memory. Nevertheless, he uses broad strokes in the chapter and I think it’s fair to say that he would apply it to all digital photography. For Han, analogue photography engages with the physical world (the world of things) in a way that digital photography simply cannot.
Han’s criticism of digital photography is fair, and it has caused me to think more about my own work in a positive way (more on that later). However, I do believe it is possible for digital photography to be engaged with the physical world in meaningful ways. Analogue photography will, admittedly, always have the upper hand here, because analogue photography uses a physical process through and through: you insert the film, manually advance the film for the next shot, remove the film, manually process the film in a dark room, and so on. Without a doubt, there is a deeper thing-ness to analogue photography. But I don’t think this means the analogue photographer is inherently more deeply engaged with the world of things.
A key point here is this quote about post-processing:
The possibilities of digital post-processing weaken the connection with the referent. They make it impossible to abandon oneself to reality. De-coupled from the referent, the photograph become self-referential.
I’ve encountered plenty of photographers who believe that only photographs straight-out-of-the-camera represent true photography. I understand the impression. After all, any editing weakens the connection with the way the photographed object really is, right?
I don’t think that is necessarily true.
The above photo took some 30-40 hours of editing work to complete. It required multiple layers, careful luminosity masking, color correction, clone stamping, dodging and burning, and other processes besides. Most of this work was in order to remove the many people who were walking on the bridge. Han might say that by doing so, I’ve not abandoned myself to reality; rather, I’ve manipulated reality to my liking. But that is not at all what happened here.
For me, this location represents an important part of my personal history. My family lived nearby for over a year when I was 12-13 years old. I was baptized in the river just downstream from this location. This is the first place I ever experienced Japan’s cherry blossom season. When I come to this spot, I hold all those memories, along with my knowledge of the unique history of this location and the local culture associated with it. However, what I experience as an intimate memory and representation of the season and culture, many others treat as a mere spectacle. Tour companies bring in travelers by the bus load, who then crowd on the bridge, creating a chaotic environment. I don’t begrudge them their visit of course, but to create a photograph of this spot that matches my experience of it, I have to remove them. When I think about taking this photograph, I remember the fact of the people, but I don’t really draw on the presence of the people. What I remember is the cherry blossoms, and the lanterns, and the river, and bridge, as the scene coincided with all my memories and knowledge of the place. The editing process for me does not de-couple the image from the referent, but in fact creates a stronger bond to what the place really is and what it is all about in my mind. It relates the memory better than an analogue photograph could.
I have taught in my workshops that photography is not just about capturing data, but about relaying an experience. A robot can capture visual data (even with an analogue camera) but only a person can have an experience. But humans never experience a scene with only visual information – we interpret it and build a memory around it involving our emotions and impressions in the moment. As such, I do not believe a photographer should inherently feel beholden to only what he or she can physically see with their eyes in a scene. Even an analogue photographer understands this when they use a glass filter and a slow shutter speed on a waterfall. Their experience of the waterfall is one of movement and motion, and it is the manipulation of the light using the camera settings and filter that allows them to capture their impression of the scene. Digital photography and post-processing opens that world to us in unique ways. It can allow us to engage with the world as we really experience it.
Byung-Chul Han Is Right
While I may differ in some important ways with Han’s view of digital photography, he’s right in his criticism. His concern with the disconnect from reality that post-processing makes possible is legitimate. More importantly though, he points out that analogue photography is a medium of recollection and memory, while digital photography is often not:
Smartphones create a kind of photography with an altogether different temporality, one without temporal depth, without novel-like breadth, a photography without destiny or recollection, that is, an instantaneous photography. […] What is novel about the selfie concerns its status of being. A selfie is not a thing; it is information, a non-thing. Non-things supplant things: this is also true of photography. The smartphone makes photographic things disappear. The validity of selfies, as information, is limited to digital communication. Along with photographic things, recollection, destiny and history are also disappearing.
Ten years ago, Vint Cerf warned of a forgotten generation or even century, due to the modern emphasis on digital mediums.2 As much as we rely on digital storage today, many of us know firsthand the dangers that come with its failure. Some years ago I lost almost all of the photographs I had taken during the early years of my marriage and family because of a hard drive failure. Had these images been printed they would not have been lost. Even in a fire, some could be rescued. A digital-only medium is easily erased, even by accident.
Out of all the thousands of photographs I have taken in my life, I’ve only ever printed a handful. Han is right that the modern focus on the digital is destroying photography as a thing, along with its connection to recollection, destiny, and history. If I don’t print my photographs, they will neither tell of what was, nor connect with what is to come. Our obsession with the digital infosphere causes us – even professional photographers like myself – to overlook this serious problem.
Han’s criticism has caused me to reconsider my own myopic focus on the digital world in my photography. My medium may be digital, but to the extent my photography remains digital-only, my photography is also inherently a non-thing. It lacks the resurrecting, recollecting power of a true photograph.
I want to change that. I will be printing more of my photos moving forward. I want to be a creator of things.
A Humble Invitation
I plan to start making more prints for myself, and eventually I’d like to make a photography book. But, I also would love to get more of my prints into the hands of others. So, I’ve decided to drastically reduce the cost of prints in my galleries. I’ve resisted this for a long time simply because I did not want to devalue my work. But what is more devaluing than keeping it locked up in a purely digital format until it is eventually erased and forgotten entirely?
From now on, the majority of my work will be available to purchase as prints from my gallery website for a very low cost. I am reserving just a small amount of my work that is special to me personally for fine art prints, and I’ll be sharing the stories behind what makes those images special soon. If you enjoy my work or just nice photographs in general, I would humbly invite you to browse my galleries and purchase a print for yourself. I’d love to see more of my work going from non-thing to thing.
[1] Byung-Chul Han, Non-Things; pp.29-36
[2] https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2015/feb/13/google-boss-warns-forgotten-century-email-photos-vint-cerf
