The 'Punctum' and The Accidental
Capturing what "lands"to see what grows...
This summer I have been enjoying the sense of space between finishing my Foundation Course in June of this year, and starting at The Ruskin School of Art, University of Oxford this Autumn. Having no responsibility to a particular project or deadline is giving me the opportunity to read, listen and watch a variety of sources, and I’ve been collecting in my sketchbook moments that seem to strike me in some way, in the hope that I can understand the overlap of my interests as and when the collection grows. In this post I wanted to share a few thoughts which seem to be landing on shared ground.
The thoughts below are shared with no resolution - that is the point - but I wanted to give them space / a voice.
In Camera Lucida, Roland Barthes talks about the ‘punctum’ of a photograph. In Latin, ‘punctum’ means a ‘wound, a mark left by a pointed instrument.’ Within the context of Camera Lucida, ‘punctum’ refers to something incidental but affecting within a photograph; something that cuts to the heart, or ‘pricks’ the viewer with a more intense reaction than “I like/I don’t like.” In other words, the part of the image that conveys meaning or causes something to linger in your mind, without an analytical, culturally-coded or distanced understanding.
I’d like to think about a couple of images that have left a punctum-like impression on me over the last few months, and see if, with a bit of time I can unpick why.
I came across this photo of ‘Merce’ by Robert Rauschenberg while researching artist studios during my Foundation course.
At the time, it struck me that it had been included in a collection of paintings and photographs of studios, some of which contained the artist, many of which contained the artist’s work in a finished or vulnerable state. But in this image Merce Cunningham becomes a sculpture in a studio. He is all three - artist, object, studio. I wonder too, if because I had spent a lot of time looking at my small sculptures in my own studio, the rounded silhouette of Merce resonated with me.
Surely the personal ‘punctum’ of an image is influenced by what we’ve recently been thinking about. Though at first I found it difficult to identify, I think my connection to this photo of Merce was through its simplicity. Whilst I’d been toying with compositions of objects in my studio, Rauschenberg’s photograph incidentally provided an uncomplicated solution.
It’s exciting to come across an image that, by chance, eloquently and economically conveys something I’ve been thinking, through a new context. The accidental is beautiful. I’m interested in the moment of “collision” - and I suppose the collision, the punctum, is different for every person and when it lands, it lands because the brain is, in some kind of chaotic and happenstance way, prepped for it to land.
I found these photo cards in an antique shop in Ålesund, Norway, and was drawn to their tactility as objects. I love the petrol-like silvering on the surface of the images. I think it helps to separate what the photograph represents (the ‘referent,’ according to Barthes) from the photograph in its physicality.
Turning them over in my hands, I chose these images in particular:
The three photographs of women reminded me of Gwen John’s gentle portraits. There’s something powerful in the continued existence of these images in the world; that they were quietly waiting in a small cardboard box in an antique shop near the coast of Norway. Quietly waiting, just as Gwen John quietly waits.
After packing away my Foundation Course objects, the photograph of three men standing side by side reminded me of objects packed away into a box, or organised into a draw, stored for safe keeping.
So I am left with:
‘punctum’ as an aid to problem solve my thinking
an ambiguity/interruption in the surface of an image
juxtaposition of an internal world, and accidental external imagery
quiet waiting.
What punctums have landed for you this week, and how have they shifted or clarified your thinking?
Referenced:
Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes
Gwen John: Art and Life in London and Paris by Alicia Foster
I always find your thinking both refreshing and fascinating. I love the way you conceptualise the world and your lived experiences as you step forth into life and art. I have never considered the concept of a “punctum” in the context of images before but as a compulsive collector of seemingly random images and objects I think I understand your point. I feel you have analysed the nub of selection. There is a moment in time when an image or experience connects to my inner world too and gets ‘saved’ from my perceived assumption (often incorrect) that it lives a chaotic existence and requires order on my part. Once queued the ‘waiting’ process can be short, long or may never end, but there is satisfaction that it belongs where it should be and its power can be re-ignited anytime. But just as an image or experience can change your direction of travel in art, so can the point which originally pierced your interest. It can fade and be diminished over time, especially if neglected. Anything ‘boxed’ needs to be revisited and checked for relevance, reinterpretation and even life. Without engagement the punctum which originally pierced your interest simply decays.