Me, My Self and the Photographic Eye 

Some facts

"What is this 'I' that I know?"

René Descartes  

  • Name: Helen Williams
  • DOB: 6th April, 1957
  • Height: 5’2”
  • Shoe size: 4 and half
  • Eye colour: grey
  • Passport number:
  • NI number:

These are some facts about Me. Some I inherited, some I was given. Several are beyond my control, one is of my choice. Some are quantifiable, others are merely informative. None of them is fictitious. Together they offer the beginnings of a description of Me, the individual.

Here are some more ‘facts’:

  • Hair colour: blonde
  • Weight: 7st 6lb
  • Vital statistics: 36, 24, 36.

These facts  are all lies, but equally valid, because they give clues about the Me I am attempting to portray.

If you were to draw a sketch of Me based on the information I have disclosed thus far, one would hope to find your portrayal favourable, as it includes nothing negative or objectionable; but would it be accurate? Of course not, because it includes false ‘facts’ and well as true ones.

But you don’t know that.

Or at least, you would not have known that, had I chosen not to tell you.

So a written or verbal description of somebody is fraught with potential inaccuracies - arguably also with a painting or drawing - but not so with a photographic one. Cameras have no choice but to record what is in front of them. Were you to take a straight photograph of Me, you would see instantly that I weigh considerably more than seven and a half stone and that the hourglass figure is drawn directly from fantasy land, but your image would be an accurate and truthful representation of Me.

If I was to ask you to take my portrait (as oppose to a straight record shot) then you and I between us would form a dialogue which resulted in an image with which we were both satisfied, but I still might feel that you hadn’t captured the real Me in your photograph. In order to do that, I need to do the job myself.

Enter the Self Portrait. When the subject is behind the lens as well as in front of it, then control is complete and the outcome assuredly ‘accurate’ – at least in displaying the intentions of the photographer. As a vehicle of self-expression, there is none more satisfying (nor self-indulgent) than conjuring up a ‘face’ to present to the world; but the opportunities for embellishment, distortion and deceit are endless and impossible to resist.  

The Self is so inextricably bound up with subjectivity that it is impossible to take a self portrait without including external cultural values, personal mores and, inevitably, a huge hint at the author's personality. (Even self portraits 'in role' such as Cindy Sherman's or Robert Mapplethorpe's speak volumes about the sort of person who takes such photographs.) In a way, all photographs are of the Self, at least in part, as it is the Self who chooses, frames, leaves out and includes according to personal taste.

Self Portrait 1980 

(c) The Estate of Robert Mapplethorpe

In his book 'Approaching Photography' Paul Hill reminds us that as a photographer you "record what is 'out there' in the world, and so you have to select from all that wealth of material the specific motifs that can act as vehicles for your inner feelings. The selection you make reveals how you feel - or want to appear to feel - about the subject, its content and form." p119

If the camera records what is 'out there' and what we are actually trying to reproduce what is 'in here' in a self portrait, then we need to select objects, locations, poses and composition as vehicles for what is 'in there'. If the photographer is a hunter seeking out victims, what does that make the subject of a self portrait?

Hill goes on to point out that, when considering self-portraiture, "the most important attribute may not be your technique or vision, but your integrity. It can be a road strewn with spurious intentions and flawed egos, so it is important to remain honest". p122

Unless, of course, your intention is to deceive.

References

Hill, P. Approaching Photography. pub. Photographer's Institute Press 2004

(C) Helen Williams 2006