According to Graham Clarke the
ultimate aim of any portrait photographer is to capture the ‘inner’ being of
his or her subject. Two terms necessitates
a clearer description: that of “’inner’ being’ and that of ‘portraiture’.
Once defined, the hunt for the ‘inner’ being can commenced. An investigation of
four alternative portraits leads to, not only a definition, but perhaps also
the apparently overlooked motive of portraiture itself. What comes to be
revealed is whether portraiture and ‘inner’ being either depend, or is even at
all hindered by each other’s existence.
Had one to define what Graeme
Clarke termed the subject’s ‘inner’ being, could perhaps be described as
a powerful, psychological inherence, which not only permits its own exposure,
but also determines the form in which it will be exposed. ‘Inner’ being could
be said to be expressed through personality. Personality – in obedience to the
psychology of the inner being – can either accept or abandon the inborn nature
of that inner being through its behaviour.
Inner being has its own life. It
survives on its own terms. Perhaps the ‘inner’ being even exists entirely disconnected
from the physical body. It might, if
desired, make use of that body to express itself, but it can also deny itself
through the performance of that body. Therefore, ‘inner’ being could be defined
as the un-posed, the un-masqued, the denuded personality of the subject. It is
personality at home once it has washed its face.
In the portraits taken of
the ministers of the Dutch Reformed Church, Ds. J. J. M. Raubenhe Imer poses,
once and for all, heroically (fig. 1). His gaze – directed to the upper right
of the viewer - leaves one to believe that the minister is busy contemplating a
matter, while his hands – neatly folded on the backrest of the chair – suggests
that he has already solved the matter he was so eagerly contemplating. His
upright posture and his neatly organized hair speaks of a certain pride in
elegance and precision. The photographer makes use of what looks like a
backlight, but what might just be the imitation of a backlight printed on the
backdrop of the set. The light creates an almost magical feel, providing the
minister with a divine presence as if he has just stepped through the light,
out of his celestial world and into the mortal world of the viewer. This
exaggerated indulgence in the representation of the male subject is what came
to be known, in the words of Walter Benjamin, as the ‘spell of personality’.
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| Fig. 1 |
This portrait of Ds. Imer was displayed, along with other portraits of past ministers, on the back wall of the church. It could therefore be seen as an extension of the church building and therefore had to conform to the formality inherent in the church’s architecture and atmosphere. The display of the portraits served as a visual report of the history of the church’s body of authority. The original viewers of these portraits were church goers. Presumably it was therefore crucial that these portraits were ‘exemplary’ modifications of the church leaders. It had to assure viewers of the ministers’ diligence and their ‘deserved’ respect. The portrait of Ds. Imer therefore in no respect projects the nature of his ‘inner’ being, but perhaps rather a false fabrication of his ‘divine’ being. This leads one to believe that, instead of attempting to capture the ‘inner’ being of the minister, the portrait was constructed as advertisement of the sacred image of the Dutch Reformed Church itself.
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| Fig. 2 |
In the portrait by Seydou Keita, one notices a woman reclining amidst her collection of possessions (fig. 2). Her skirt – a heap of fabric – is spread out up to the edges of the frame. The skirt entirely encircles her upper-body forming a curved line. This circular composition is repeated in the inner-frame by the rounded shape of her slouched posture, to the extent that she seems almost sucked into the vortex of fabric surrounding her. Her oversized headpiece appears to be heavy - seemingly pushing her head towards her knees and thereby intensifying the swallow-effect created by her wardrobe. Her handbag and new shoe receive visual priority in the frame. Both these items are foregrounded to emphasize their importance as possessions of value. The girl in return occupies the second plane of the photograph, almost becoming ‘secondary subject’ to the primary focus on possession.
The ultimate intent of the
traditional portrait is to idealize the subject. Keita’s clients’ idea
of the ideal self involved the demonstration of one’s success, elegance,
modernity and cosmopolitanism.
In Keita’s studio in Mali this was achieved by the clients’ demonstration
of their valuables in the form of costume, props and jewellery. The subject
thus expressed her ideal ‘self’ by constructing a physical context through a
strange interplay of material goods from both traditional as well as western
origins. The inclusion of western objects commented on Mali’s emerging
independence from France and the subject’s preceding exposure to European
commodities.
Keita’s was known for his
ability to ‘amplify’ his subject’s beauty. In this portrait he uses a
soft sidelight to emphasize the smoothness of the subject’s skin, showering it
with a healthy glow. The lighting also creates subtle shadows on her face which
in contrast with the white part of in her eyes enhances their size. The high angle Keita chose to photograph his
subject from however, makes her seem shy, almost intimidated by the his
presence. She stares up at the observer (viewer, camera or photographer) with a
somewhat suspicious expression, as if unaware of what the camera will make of
her. From the moment a portrait is created until the end of its life time it
will be exposed to the public eye. Roland Barthes expresses this consciousness
of observation in what he calls the subject’s ‘image repertoires’:
In
front of the lens, I am at the same time:
The one I think I am; The one I want others to think I am, (and) The one the photographer thinks I am...
Two factors therefore determined the
representation of the subject in the final portrait: Firstly the girl’s
physical performance in the picture making process as affected by her awareness
of the presence of the public eye; And secondly the girl’s extreme desire –
similar to those of Keita’s other clients - to construct an unreal world in
which she could please the material expectations of that public eye. This
metaphorically charged mise-en-scene created around the girl’s ideal image of ‘self’,
as well as her behaviour in front of the camera therefore speaks much more of
her social consciousness than it does of her ‘inner being’. This is a mere display
for the public eye - the creation of a public ‘self’.
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| Fig. 3 |
The same could be said of David Selefe’s portrait of a woman posed against a cityscape background (Fig. 3). Selefe uses double exposure to insert his subject into her ideal scenery. The subject’s representation is no longer limited by her geographic location. She can now travel visually. This visual dynamics allows for the subject to ‘sell’ herself as a representative of the world. Similar to Keita’s subject, Selefe’s subject consciously chooses to fabricate a false world of ‘achievement’ in which to portray her ideal image.
In the 1960’s Daune Michals experimented
with the same manipulation technique as Selefe. Michals was blatantly honest
about the nature of his portraits: ‘My portraits are lies...’ he said,
‘They have nothing to do with the person at all’. Even though Seydou Keito
never made use of technical manipulation to construct false reality – he still
fabricated reality by means of mise-en-scene.
Keito’s portrait is therefore also ‘a lie’. His and his subject’s ‘lie’ however, is made
to look so real that it becomes believable. Unlike Keito’s portrait, Selefe’s is
a deliberate exploitation of the fabrication of a reality through an obvious exaggeration
of technical manipulation. Most of Selefe’s portraits, including the one under
discussion, contain clear elements of technical fiddling. This is evident in the
untidy edges of Selefe subject’s head, allowing it to adapt a sort of
‘cut-and-paste’ - character. Selefe’s
portrait could be described as an almost humoristic admittance to the
portrait’s inability to represent a truthful self. Just as in Michal’s
portraits, both Keito nor Selefe’s portraits represent nothing but ‘a
photograph of an individual, not the individual
him(her)self.’
From the portrait of the Dutch Reformed
Church minister, to the portraits of Keito and Selefe, the supposed ‘inner’
being of the subjects were entirely invisible. As soon as the body was exposed
to the public eye (the camera), a new public ‘self’ was created serving as a
display to please public expectations of this public. Cindy Sherman saw this
interplay between subject performance and mise-en-scene as proof of the body’s
naturally inherent ‘passion for posing’. The studio set becomes a stage
on which the subject can adapt any role he or she desires. The subject’s
consciousness of the ‘audience’ makes him ‘act’ in a particular way. This ‘act’
is perhaps employed by the ‘inner’ being of the subject as a means to mask
itself from the ‘audience’. Roland Barthes termed this consciousness of
observation the ‘mortification of the subject’. Once aware of
public observation - this is, according to Barthes, the moment the subject
freezes into a pose - there occurs an immediate ‘...Death in person’.
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| Fig. 4 |
Perhaps if the body was stripped from any form of idealization the subject could be reborn into pure form and become willing to reveal its ‘inner’ being. Felix Nadar (1820-1910) believed this to be possible. Fundamentally concerned with the exposure of the ‘inner’ being, Nadar uncovered his subjects of anything ‘extraneous to the central, and singular, presence of the individual before the camera’. The portrait of Kabbo (Fig. 4) is evident of a seemingly similar technique to that of Nadar’s. As subject of the portrait Kabbo is denied any means of idealizing his image of ‘self’. He is represented naked without expression or pose. Kabbo’s portrait is clearly not intended to represent any dishonest fabrication of Kabbo’s social context, nor is it meant to idealize Kabbo according to the expectations of the public eye. However, does Nadar’s technique allow for Kabbo’s ‘inner’ being to be revealed in the photograph? It would be brave to respond positively to the question.
One could argue that the roles have now swopped.
The public – still present in Kabbo’s portrait – has now adapted the role of image
constructor. Susan Sontag states that however lenient the camera appears to be,
it is also ‘...an expert at being cruel’.
The public – in this case represented by both the photographer and the
viewer, has managed to create a visual disinterest in the existence of the
subject’s ‘inner’ being. The ethnographic nature of the portrait dehumanizes,
typifies and categorizes the subject according to his raw physique, reducing
him to the mere ‘fashion of a fingerprint’. It seems thus that even
Nadar’s denuding of subject fails to expose its ‘inner’ being.
In conclusion one could argue that the portrait - as public eye - either falsifies or obliterates the ‘inner’ being of the subject. Therefore, instead of becoming an expression of ‘inner’ being, it becomes rather a denial thereof. The obvious solution would be to remove the public from the equation and allow for the portrait to become a strictly private construction. This however would reject the portrait’s singular reason of being. In the absence of the public eye, the need for self-idealization would be inexistent. The public eye was the means to the creation of the portrait. Therefore, the concern to express ‘inner’ being through portraiture should be replaced with the original reason of the portraits creation – as idealized interface between self-awareness and public expectation.
