micromontenegro
Well-known
Maybe you'll find this article interesting, as I did:
Some time ago, I was giving a talk at the Spanish Academy in Rome — or, rather, trying to give a talk. I found myself distracted by a bright light shining in my eyes that made it difficult to read my notes — the light from a cellphone video camera that belonged to a woman in the audience. I reacted in a very resentful manner, remarking (as I usually do in the face of inconsiderate photographers) that, in keeping with the proper division of labour, when I am working they should stop working. The woman turned her camera off, but with an oppressed air about her, as though she had been subjected to a true outrage.
Just this summer in San Leo, as the Italian city was launching a wonderful initiative to honour the Montefeltro-area landscape that appears in Piero della Francesca’s early Renaissance paintings, three people were blinding me with their flashes, and I stopped to remind them of the rules of good manners. It should be noted that, at both of these events, the people who were recording me didn’t belong to professional camera crews and hadn’t been sent to cover the event; they were presumably educated people who came of their own free will to attend lectures that required some degree of knowledge. Nevertheless, they displayed all the symptoms of “electronic eye syndrome”: They appeared to have virtually no interest in what was being said; all they wanted, it seemed, was to record the event and perhaps post it on YouTube. They had given up on paying attention in the moment, choosing to record on their cellphones instead of watching with their own eyes.
This desire to be present with a mechanical eye instead of a brain seems to have mentally altered a significant contingent of otherwise civil people. The audience members snapping pictures and shooting video in Rome and San Leo probably left the events with a few images, but with no idea of what they had witnessed. (Such behaviour is, perhaps, justified when seeing a stripper — but not an academic talk.) And if, as I imagine, these individuals go through life photographing everything they see, they are forever condemned to forget today what they recorded yesterday.
On several occasions I’ve spoken of how I stopped taking photographs in 1960, after a tour of French cathedrals that I had photographed like a mad man. Upon returning home from the trip, I found myself in possession of a series of very mediocre photographs — and no real memories of what I had seen. I threw away the camera, and during my subsequent travels, I have only recorded what I saw in my mind. I have bought excellent postcards, more for others than for myself, for future remembrance.
Once, when I was 11 years old, I came upon an unusual commotion on a main thoroughfare. From a distance, I saw the aftermath of an accident: A truck had hit a cart that a farmer was driving, with his wife riding alongside him. The woman had been thrown to the ground. Her head had cracked open and she was lying in a pool of blood and brain matter. (I still recall with horror that, in that moment, it looked to me as if a strawberry cream cake had been spattered on the ground.) The woman’s husband held her tight, wailing in desperation. I didn’t get too close, for I was terrified: Not only was it the first time I had seen a brain spattered on the ground (and fortunately, it was also the last time) but it was the first time I had been in the presence of death. And sorrow, and desperation.
What would have happened if I had had a cellphone equipped with a video camera, just as every kid has today? Perhaps I would have recorded the scene, to show my friends that I had been there. And perhaps I would have posted my visual treasure on YouTube, to delight other devotees of schadenfreude. After that, who knows? If I had continued to record such misfortunes, I might have become utterly indifferent to the suffering of others.
Instead, I preserved everything in my memory. Seventy years later, the mental image of that woman continues to haunt me and, indeed, has taught me to empathise with others’ suffering rather than being indifferent to it. I don’t know if today’s youth will have the same opportunities I did to mature into adulthood — to say nothing of all the adults who, with their eyeballs glued to their cellphones, have already been lost forever.
Some time ago, I was giving a talk at the Spanish Academy in Rome — or, rather, trying to give a talk. I found myself distracted by a bright light shining in my eyes that made it difficult to read my notes — the light from a cellphone video camera that belonged to a woman in the audience. I reacted in a very resentful manner, remarking (as I usually do in the face of inconsiderate photographers) that, in keeping with the proper division of labour, when I am working they should stop working. The woman turned her camera off, but with an oppressed air about her, as though she had been subjected to a true outrage.
Just this summer in San Leo, as the Italian city was launching a wonderful initiative to honour the Montefeltro-area landscape that appears in Piero della Francesca’s early Renaissance paintings, three people were blinding me with their flashes, and I stopped to remind them of the rules of good manners. It should be noted that, at both of these events, the people who were recording me didn’t belong to professional camera crews and hadn’t been sent to cover the event; they were presumably educated people who came of their own free will to attend lectures that required some degree of knowledge. Nevertheless, they displayed all the symptoms of “electronic eye syndrome”: They appeared to have virtually no interest in what was being said; all they wanted, it seemed, was to record the event and perhaps post it on YouTube. They had given up on paying attention in the moment, choosing to record on their cellphones instead of watching with their own eyes.
This desire to be present with a mechanical eye instead of a brain seems to have mentally altered a significant contingent of otherwise civil people. The audience members snapping pictures and shooting video in Rome and San Leo probably left the events with a few images, but with no idea of what they had witnessed. (Such behaviour is, perhaps, justified when seeing a stripper — but not an academic talk.) And if, as I imagine, these individuals go through life photographing everything they see, they are forever condemned to forget today what they recorded yesterday.
On several occasions I’ve spoken of how I stopped taking photographs in 1960, after a tour of French cathedrals that I had photographed like a mad man. Upon returning home from the trip, I found myself in possession of a series of very mediocre photographs — and no real memories of what I had seen. I threw away the camera, and during my subsequent travels, I have only recorded what I saw in my mind. I have bought excellent postcards, more for others than for myself, for future remembrance.
Once, when I was 11 years old, I came upon an unusual commotion on a main thoroughfare. From a distance, I saw the aftermath of an accident: A truck had hit a cart that a farmer was driving, with his wife riding alongside him. The woman had been thrown to the ground. Her head had cracked open and she was lying in a pool of blood and brain matter. (I still recall with horror that, in that moment, it looked to me as if a strawberry cream cake had been spattered on the ground.) The woman’s husband held her tight, wailing in desperation. I didn’t get too close, for I was terrified: Not only was it the first time I had seen a brain spattered on the ground (and fortunately, it was also the last time) but it was the first time I had been in the presence of death. And sorrow, and desperation.
What would have happened if I had had a cellphone equipped with a video camera, just as every kid has today? Perhaps I would have recorded the scene, to show my friends that I had been there. And perhaps I would have posted my visual treasure on YouTube, to delight other devotees of schadenfreude. After that, who knows? If I had continued to record such misfortunes, I might have become utterly indifferent to the suffering of others.
Instead, I preserved everything in my memory. Seventy years later, the mental image of that woman continues to haunt me and, indeed, has taught me to empathise with others’ suffering rather than being indifferent to it. I don’t know if today’s youth will have the same opportunities I did to mature into adulthood — to say nothing of all the adults who, with their eyeballs glued to their cellphones, have already been lost forever.
Exdsc
-
Not very profound or insightful, more like a typical rant against technology.
Michalm
Well-known
Thanks for posting this, very interesting article. I had a similar impression during my last trip to Greece. This is how usually would most tourists behave and miss what is the most important when visiting ancient sites , looking at masterpiece of architecture or joining street band walking and singing down the street , they are looking through the cell phones camera instead of just trying be there , feel the place .
bsdunek
Old Guy with a Corgi
I certainly understand what you're saying - and - it is so true. There used to be an old joke:
"how was your vacation?"
"I don't know, I haven't gotten my pictures back yet!"
And, I heard that one back in the 50's. Nothing new - just more now due to increased technology.
"how was your vacation?"
"I don't know, I haven't gotten my pictures back yet!"
And, I heard that one back in the 50's. Nothing new - just more now due to increased technology.
Exdsc
-
When people don't follow the etiquette the fault is not with the mechanical devices they use, the fault is with the people.
I once attended a photography lecture and a young man took non-stop photos of the speaker with a DSLR and the constant sound simply made everyone angry.
People are the problem, as always, not the technology.
I once attended a photography lecture and a young man took non-stop photos of the speaker with a DSLR and the constant sound simply made everyone angry.
People are the problem, as always, not the technology.
Vics
Mentor
The last time I was in the Louvre, I saw a continuous stream of people run up to the Venus de Milo wthout even a glsnce at the statue itself, turn and pose for a picture in front of that embodiment of beauty, then run to the next "big thing." Last May, I was walking across the Pont St. Michel, and a tiny, middle-aged lady just in front of me was running toward the Isle de la Cite, holding her digicam aloft snapping away in the general direction of Notre Dame de Paris, but never even glancing in that direction. I agree with Eco. It's getting more than a little nuts out there.
Last edited:
igi
Well-known
I agree with the essay but I also sense a rant. I don't think Umberto Eco understands the people in the first two paragraphs.
zauhar
Mentor
Thanks for posting the link to this article. Eco makes important observations about the virtualization of life. This is not just an anti-technology rant, he is addressing they ways in which we are being dehumanized, by technology that is qualitatively different from anything seen before.
Perhaps "dehumanize" is not quite the right word, as the impulse to remove ourselves from the physical world, and interaction with our fellow humans, is clearly one of our innate potentials. However, until the last few decades, nothing existed that is a good analogy to modern electronics and its capacity to construct a world that is completely artificial.
I am not excusing myself - the film camera also allows you to insulate yourself from the world, although I suspect it requires a higher level of engagement.
Of course, Eco would have probably been less p-ssed off if the photographers didn't use flash. ;-)
Randy
Perhaps "dehumanize" is not quite the right word, as the impulse to remove ourselves from the physical world, and interaction with our fellow humans, is clearly one of our innate potentials. However, until the last few decades, nothing existed that is a good analogy to modern electronics and its capacity to construct a world that is completely artificial.
I am not excusing myself - the film camera also allows you to insulate yourself from the world, although I suspect it requires a higher level of engagement.
Of course, Eco would have probably been less p-ssed off if the photographers didn't use flash. ;-)
Randy
Exdsc
-
One could speculate that the anger that Umberto Eco feels could also stem from the fact that he feels people are more interested in his picture as a celebrity writer and intellectual rather than what he has to say.
We live in an era of mass empowerment when it comes to visual media. People are empowered at all levels to take their own photos and video, and share it with others. Thus far I see nothing wrong with this but the potential is there that the whole idea of a good photo will eventually disappear due to a lack of hierarchy in skill level, artistic expression as well as the sheer volume of photos created everyday.
micromontenegro
Well-known
Regarding the "rantyness" of the article: It took me a good while finding an English translation. This one is very good, but the tongue-in-cheek sarcasm of the first two paragraphs was totally lost in translation. And maybe replaced by some bitterness that is not there in the original text.
Peter_wrote:
Well-known
remindes me of a quote from the novel Extinction by Thomas Bernhard, which i like a lot. (please note, that it's from a novel, not an essay). a main character states there:
"I despise people who are forever taking pictures and go around with cameras hanging from their necks, always on the lookout for a subject, snapping anything and everything, however silly. All the time they have nothing in their heads but portraying themselves, in the most distasteful manner, though they are quite oblivious of this.
What they capture in their photos is a perversely distorted world that has nothing to do with the real world except this perverse distortion, for which they themselves are responsible. Photography is a vulgar addiction that is gradually taking hold of the whole of humanity, which is not only enamored of such distortion and perversion but completely sold on them, and will in due course, given the proliferation of photography, take the distorted and perverted world of the photograph to be the only real one.
Practitioners of photography are guilty of one of the worst crimes it is possible to commit--of turning nature into a grotesque.
The people in their photographs are nothing but pathetic dolls, disfigured beyond recognition, staring in alarm into the pitiless lens, brainless and repellent. Photography is a base passion that has taken hold of every continent and every section of the population, a sickness that afflicts the whole of humanity and is no longer curable. The inventor of the photographic art was the inventor of the most inhumane of all arts. To him we owe the ultimate distortion of nature and the human beings who form part of it, the reduction of human beings to perverse caricatures--his and theirs. I have yet to see a photograph that shows a normal person, a true and genuine person, just as I have yet to see one that gives a true and genuine representation of nature."
"I despise people who are forever taking pictures and go around with cameras hanging from their necks, always on the lookout for a subject, snapping anything and everything, however silly. All the time they have nothing in their heads but portraying themselves, in the most distasteful manner, though they are quite oblivious of this.
What they capture in their photos is a perversely distorted world that has nothing to do with the real world except this perverse distortion, for which they themselves are responsible. Photography is a vulgar addiction that is gradually taking hold of the whole of humanity, which is not only enamored of such distortion and perversion but completely sold on them, and will in due course, given the proliferation of photography, take the distorted and perverted world of the photograph to be the only real one.
Practitioners of photography are guilty of one of the worst crimes it is possible to commit--of turning nature into a grotesque.
The people in their photographs are nothing but pathetic dolls, disfigured beyond recognition, staring in alarm into the pitiless lens, brainless and repellent. Photography is a base passion that has taken hold of every continent and every section of the population, a sickness that afflicts the whole of humanity and is no longer curable. The inventor of the photographic art was the inventor of the most inhumane of all arts. To him we owe the ultimate distortion of nature and the human beings who form part of it, the reduction of human beings to perverse caricatures--his and theirs. I have yet to see a photograph that shows a normal person, a true and genuine person, just as I have yet to see one that gives a true and genuine representation of nature."
icebear
Mentor
Usually it's is common practice to provide a link to the original article, i.e. provide the proper source.
Nevertheless and interesting read and of course, he is true in his observation.
A rough guess: If you take the camera or cell phone away from people and ask them what the have seen that day, maybe 90% would have a hard time to describe it without whatever their little electronic gadget is.
If taking pictures/video gets intrusive (flash, artificial light) people shouldn't forget their manners, if they do, they need to be told.
Bobfrance
Over Exposed
I find this very interesting and have often wondered myself what motivates so many people to record certain situations so fervently. I agree the preoccupation of being on the other end of a lens does remove from reality by some degree.
.
.
Prest_400
Multiformat
I felt this and can agree. I guess I'm not the only one to get very engaged shooting and then the memory isn't quite as strong.
This has happened me in a very strong way when I shot some fireworks on town. After it finished, I couldn't recall them. Didn't get the emotion of the fireworks.
And on others, where I shot so much as of pure indulgence. I am a low volume shooter, and 300 photos of a dinner celebration just choke me.
I could relate it to learning.
I am 18 but didn't get to use cellphones in a daily basis until last september. (Unbelievable, but yes) I did have a cellphone, but never carried it or used it.
Nowadays, it is a complementary tool. I use it as a recording & communication device.
But I am used to be without it (progressively needing it more, however...).
I guess many people my age who have used cellphones since a much earlier age have another approach, ie. more dependence in the tool.
I must say that I'm a "recording freak". I love to record stuff that happens. But usually, I avoid having that feeling of shooting and after that feeling like I wasn't there; because, frankly, it doesn't feel nice.
Infact, I've even got a reputation among my classmates of being a "journalist", because I photograph stuff that happens with my cellphone camera. But I've been much of a feeler lately.
I guess it's a society attitude, too. In my daily life, commuting, there isn't much happiness seen.
I do get to enjoy these irrelevant daily happenings. The sunrise while commuting, the architecture of my train station, the machinery itself, the urban ambiance.
Sometimes I even get to dislike going with classmates back to the train because I can't concentrate on the environment, and don't have the freedom to drift away...
Pickett Wilson
Mentor
I stopped shooting photos on vacation many years ago. Besides annoying my wife with constant photography, I realized early on that I never looked at the photos (primarily slides in those days) I had shot.
froyd
Mentor
I will admit that in my personal life, I have sometimes wondered if I'm missing too much of the present by tasking myself with the job of family chronicler.
Like "missing" a child's birthday in the effort of capturing it photographically. However, when I flip through the books of pictures of my family and growing children I feel a direct connection with the moment that's often stronger than many of my everyday memories, with the exception of memories of particular importance.
Migrating to rangefinders, was not only a way to shed the weight of other camera gear, but also a step on a different photographic path where two or three pictures serve to capture the essence of an event. This more measured approach allows me to be more directly involved in the moment, but also capture images for later enjoyment.
Like "missing" a child's birthday in the effort of capturing it photographically. However, when I flip through the books of pictures of my family and growing children I feel a direct connection with the moment that's often stronger than many of my everyday memories, with the exception of memories of particular importance.
Migrating to rangefinders, was not only a way to shed the weight of other camera gear, but also a step on a different photographic path where two or three pictures serve to capture the essence of an event. This more measured approach allows me to be more directly involved in the moment, but also capture images for later enjoyment.
Roger Hicks
Mentor
Dear Randy,
That's what I get from it too: hardly an anti-technology rant.
On the other hand, for me, Eco is over-generalizing from his own world-picture. I had very little visual memory until I took up photography in my 'teens. Now my visual memory is quite good. Some people refuse to believe that photography changed my visual memory, but then again, they're often the sort of people who refuse to believe that there are people who don't enjoy dancing. "You must have lost yourself in the rhythm sometimes," they say. NO I BLOODY HAVEN'T. They're trapped in their own perception, unable to make allowance for others who don't think EXACTLY the way they do.
Cheers,
R.
rhl-oregon
Cameras Guitars Wonders
Amen. That's the best lesson from this. If only he hadn't climbed atop the pulpit afterward to denounce the multitudes for worshipping their graven-image devices instead of throwing them away, like him.
lynnb
Mentor
Interesting comment, Randy. Thanks for posting it.
This reminds me of a recent article by wedding photographer Brendan Esposito (worth a look for the photos alone). He remarks how it is becoming very difficult to take wedding photos now because the guests are more preoccupied with recording the event than participating. In doing so they diminish the human dimension of the wedding.
I notice that for many teenagers, performing to cell phones and publishing the resulting photos and videos on Facebook has become the only way of validating life itself. McLuhan was right - the medium is the message.
Nescio
Well-known
But for how long...? I understand the assertion as an equation and therefore I dare to question it. I would say that nowadays the medium has become much more important than the message itself, as the medium stays (at least a bit longer) and the message fades away with a flick of a mouse click.
Nescio