Subjects

Every picture tells a story? Well, maybe not, but certainly every picture has a subject.

Most of the time, I would guess, when we critically analyze a photograph, we accord greater weight to its formal aspects, to the means of representation, than we do to the subject.

Sometimes, though, the subject of a picture is such that it renders all other attributes irrelevant. Or unnecessary. Or at least not part of our critical reaction to the picture.

Consider, for example, this image from Timothy Archibald's Sex Machine series:


Timothy Archibald, Sex Machines, 2002-2005. Copyright Timothy Archibald

I think we can safely say that this is an interesting picture, whatever its formal qualities. In fact, consideration of those qualities, in the usual sense, is probably irrelevant. It's not that the subject transcends its execution - it doesn't - but that any discussion of the formal attributes of this picture would be rendered merely comical by its subject matter.

Much the same is true of Misty Keasler's photographs of Japanese love hotels. Although they are not as immediately striking as Archibald's images, our critical opinion of them is informed more by our reaction to their subject matter than by any formal concerns.


Misty Keasler, Bondage Kitty (Hello Kitty S&M Room), Hotel Adonis, Osaka, 2004. Copyright M. Keasler.

On the other hand, because Keasler's subject is more subtle than Archibald's, her pictures, to be understood, may require more extra-pictorial explanation of what that subject is.

It's not at all uncommon for such extra-pictorial information - whether in the form of a title or otherwise - to influence, and even alter, our critical evaluation of a photograph, usually by amplifying our emotional reaction to it. For example:


Alec Soth, Johnny Cash's Boyhood Home, Dyess, Arkansas, 2002, Copyright A. Soth

We might consider Alec Soth's photograph of Johnny Cash's boyhood home to be an interesting picture even without its title. But not quite as interesting. What if it were, say, Steny Hoyer's boyhood home? (Who?) Would it still have the frisson that Johnny Cash brings to it? Probably not. That's why it has the title.

Other titles not only influence our critical perception of a picture but may hijack it altogether. For example:


Minor White, Windowsill Daydreaming, 1958. Copyright M. White

Here, simply by appending the words "Windowsill Daydreaming," Minor White reduced a truly beautiful photograph of reflections on a windowsill - of light on form - to a kind of anthropomorphic and sentimental kitsch not far removed from all those pictures of solitary trees entitled "Loneliness." (I mean, why call it an "equivalent" if you have to name it?)

And sometimes subject matter can so undermine a photograph that critical evaluation, while not strictly irrelevant, becomes pointless. For example:

Melanie Pullen, Dorothy, 2003 Copyright Melanie Pullen

This is from a series entitled "High Fashion Crime Scenes," a subject that exists only in the mind of one Melanie Pullen, who, having imagined these scenes, staged and photographed them. Why? Who knows. To make money and become famous, I guess, just like everyone else.

And, finally, to bring these thoughts to an abrupt but fitting close:


Eddie Adams, Viet Cong Execution, Saigon, 1968 (Associated Press)

One subject that really matters.


For an interview with Archibald, go to Conscientious. Keasler talked about her work recently in The Morning News. Alec Soth has a blog on which he once posted an interesting evaluation of this picture; I can't find it now. Minor White is a God to his followers, with all that implies. Melanie Pullen exhibited these pictures at the Wirtz Gallery, where you could see more of them if you wanted to. And Eddie Adams' photo of the execution of a Viet Cong agent was the beginning of the end of that war.