Patrizia Di Bello

SEDUCTIONS AND FLIRTATIONS: Photographs, histories, theories

Despite much having been written on the subject, a stable theorization of photographic meaning seems as elusive as ever. Can – and should – theory be useful to explain photographs and to understand photography? Taking the concept of the index as one example, this paper proposes a model in which theories, as much as photographs, are situated in the specific historic circumstances of their being made, used, reproduced and circulated within a culture. In this model, the relationship between photography and theory can be understood as reciprocal; one in which actual photographs can inform and transform theories as much as being explained by them. This is only possible, however, if we attend to photographs in their material circumstances, embedded in social and bodily practices that themselves can be understood as a way to “theorize” photography. This is not to suggest that the processes of signification can thus be fixed or reduced to a main one, but that, rather than being seduced by theory, we should embrac...Despite much having been written on the subject, a stable theorization of photographic meaning seems as elusive as ever. Can – and should – theory be useful to explain photographs and to understand photography? Taking the concept of the index as one example, this paper proposes a model in which theories, as much as photographs, are situated in the specific historic circumstances of their being made, used, reproduced and circulated within a culture. In this model, the relationship between photography and theory can be understood as reciprocal; one in which actual photographs can inform and transform theories as much as being explained by them. This is only possible, however, if we attend to photographs in their material circumstances, embedded in social and bodily practices that themselves can be understood as a way to “theorize” photography. This is not to suggest that the processes of signification can thus be fixed or reduced to a main one, but that, rather than being seduced by theory, we should embrace the flirtatiousness of photographs, never yielding to one conclusive and stable meaning; and learn to flirt back.

Elizabeth Thompson and ‘Patsy’ Cornwallis West as Carte-de-visite celebrities

This essay places Elizabeth Thompsons (later Lady Butler, 1846–1933) sensational success at the 1874 Royal Academy exhibition, and the negotiations over the sale of copyrights of her work, in the context of an art world being reconfigured by the commercialisation and the commodification of images, including those by and of women. It shows how photography – in particular, carte-de-visite portraits of artists – played an important role in this burgeoning market, and in the new laws required to regulate it. It uses the later example of Mary (‘Patsy’) Cornwallis West (née Fitzpatrick, 1858–1920) to illuminate Thompsons unease at being photographed; the confusion concerning copyright laws and the sale of photographic portraits to the public; and the ambivalent fascination of the time with photographs of women celebrities as ‘professional beauties’.This essay places Elizabeth Thompsons (later Lady Butler, 1846–1933) sensational success at the 1874 Royal Academy exhibition, and the negotiations over the sale of copyrights of her work, in the context of an art world being reconfigured by the commercialisation and the commodification of images, including those by and of women. It shows how photography – in particular, carte-de-visite portraits of artists – played an important role in this burgeoning market, and in the new laws required to regulate it. It uses the later example of Mary (‘Patsy’) Cornwallis West (nee Fitzpatrick, 1858–1920) to illuminate Thompsons unease at being photographed; the confusion concerning copyright laws and the sale of photographic portraits to the public; and the ambivalent fascination of the time with photographs of women celebrities as ‘professional beauties’.

‘Multiplying Statues by Machinery’: Stereoscopic Photographs of Sculptures at the 1862 International Exhibition

This article focuses on the photographs of sculptures, in particular Raffaelle Monti’s veiled figures, taken by the London Stereoscopic and Photographic Company at the 1862 International Exhibition, to explore the relationship between vision and touch in the appeal of stereographs. Their apparent simplicity as reproductions of works of art belies a rich formal and conceptual complexity that attends to many of the issues raised by the Exhibition and its critics, at the time and since. The appeal of stereographs of sculptures can be conceptualised in the consonance between sculpture and photography as media that relied on mechanical production and reproduction, making the shift from sculpture to stereo one of different iterations rather than translation from one medium to another – both relied on the disavowal of the anonymous, mechanical labour that went into making them.This article focuses on the photographs of sculptures, in particular Raffaelle Monti’s veiled figures, taken by the London Stereoscopic and Photographic Company at the 1862 International Exhibition, to explore the relationship between vision and touch in the appeal of stereographs. Their apparent simplicity as reproductions of works of art belies a rich formal and conceptual complexity that attends to many of the issues raised by the Exhibition and its critics, at the time and since. The appeal of stereographs of sculptures can be conceptualised in the consonance between sculpture and photography as media that relied on mechanical production and reproduction, making the shift from sculpture to stereo one of different iterations rather than translation from one medium to another – both relied on the disavowal of the anonymous, mechanical labour that went into making them.

Doing Family Photography: The Domestic, The Public and The Politics of Sentiment

This is a book on photography with no illustrations, bar the painting reproduced on the cover. This, however, does not detract from the clarity of its argument or the enjoyment of its text, as the absence of reproductions of family photographs is part of its point. We don’t need to see them because they all look the same: happy children and families at leisure; no visible signs of conflict, unhappiness or domestic labour; no creativity in taking the photographs beyond the occasional wonky perspective and unintentional blur. As much of the literature on the topic maintains, family photographs are visually boring; only familial eyes can enjoy distinguishing a good likeness from a bad one, appreciate the preciousness of a blurred photo of nothing because of the child it was taken by, or recognise in an old photograph character traits that had yet to develop at the time it was taken. As this book discusses, this stereotyped visual repertoire has often been taken for granted as evidence of the passivity of family photography as a form of consumption, of both photographic products and of the nuclear middle-class family as a model of happiness, success and fulfilment. As Rose ably demonstrates, however, to focus on the visual content of family photographs is to miss the point, as they are important not because of how they look but because of what we do with them. And when we do look at them, we are motivated and rewarded not by the visual flair of the photographer but by participation in a shared cultural understanding of the photograph as an indexical image, bearing traces of the people involved in the photographic transactions (the people in the photographs, but also the people who took them or sent them on) with as little technical or aesthetic interference as possible. Unlike other feminists who have read the photographs in family albums as oppressive, especially for women, Rose argues for their cultural importance, their power as assemblages of both a certain kind of object and a certain kind of practice, and for their subversive ethical potential. The first part of the book, focusing on family photography as a domestic practice, is based on interviews with women living in the South East of England, all with small children, mostly at home full-time. Her selective focus on middle-class white mums with able-bodied children might seem narrow but it serves its purpose, as it allows the book to offer a close analysis of coherent case studies rather than universalised theoretical statements. Rose’s careful and caring analysis of the responses of her interviewees is informed by her own experience of family photography, as much as by comprehensive research in the theoretical and historical literature on family photography, and insights garnered from cultural geography, critical theory, feminist philosophy, and material cultures studies. Rose does not get bogged down in discussions of methodological issues, yet the appropriateness of researching family photography as a practice by talking to women becomes clear during the course of the book. Women, more specifically mothers, are the ones who still perform most of the practical and emotional labour of looking after the family collection of snaps; and orality – talking over photographs – is central to the performance of family photography. Chatting with other mums while passing around family snaps, therefore, is not just about doing family photographs, but part of its practice – here, research blends into what is being researched. As the book shows, family photographs are powerful, transformative objects, able to turn a dwelling place into a home and to make absent family members present as photographs. They even domesticate the process of research. The women interviewed proved themselves to be not very interested in the meaning of photographs, but very vocal and articulate about how they felt about their photos and what they did with them. If, as Rose argues, semiological or discursive critiques of family photography are not useful to understand their power, this is because family photographs are about how we feel as we perform the rituals associated with them, rather than about visual meaning. As the interviews demonstrate, a lot of investment, material and emotional, goes towards sorting, dating, and arranging family photographs in albums, frames, or fridge-doors; and sending them to distant family and friends. These practices highlight the importance of the tactile materiality of family snaps, especially when talk is silenced by emotions that cannot be put into words but can be manifested through gestures as the photograph is picked up, held to a caressing glance, and carefully passed around or put away. Over its first five chapters Doing Family Photography explores the interactions between family photographs, people and spaces. It looks at how family photos are such because we view them and do things with them in a context, both physical and emotional, defined as familial. It analyses how interiors are made homely by the presence of photographs, whether framed on a