Integrity, Language, and Visual Imagery
Thread by Ricardo Barros
I recently referred to a certain image as having “integrity” in a workshop discussion. (I can’t remember which photograph; it certainly could have been any number of them.) Evidently some students were unclear as to what I meant in using that word. At a subsequent session, one of them asked me: When does a flower photograph demonstrate integrity?
This was an unexpectedly difficult question to answer.
I am certain that I had used the word meaningfully earlier, but when I originally used it I was looking at the photograph being referred to. This question arrived unattended. The issue of integrity had not been raised, one way or another, by the images we had just seen.
My difficulty, I later realized, arose from an underlying premise in the student’s question. This is the premise that communication can be reduced to some form of a discrete, quantifiable, articulated accumulation of meaning. This premise would approach communication as if it were a science.
If the art of photography were a science, we would be able to articulate all of an image’s properties and establish that image’s definitive meaning. The irreducible set of verbal descriptors we would come up with would be an exact surrogate for the image itself. (I am imagining something akin to the Periodic Table, which empowers scientists to precisely identify and classify all matter in the universe.) Minds more brilliant than mine could identify the rank and file of particular words, as well as how each of these words relate to specific aspects of visual imagery.
This premise suggests an equation, with the photograph on one side of the ‘equals’ sign, and a collection of words on the other. Either side of the equation would be a complete and accurate representation of its counterpart. Once a photograph was thus understood, it would be resolved. All possible interpretations, including the best ones, would be immediately available to us. We could get it, either visually or in words.
Of course this isn’t the case, but why not? And, if we can’t rely on the definitive meaning of words, how can we talk about visual imagery at all?? The entire concept of communication seems to break down when two people associate different meanings with the words they pass back and forth.
There is a simple explanation that dispels this apparent confusion. It applies to virtually all forms of communication, including photography: Communication entails the expression of an idea over multiple channels. Literal content accounts for transmission on just one of these channels. Commentary and other implications may be transmitted in tandem through other conduits. Upon receiving a composite transmission, we weigh the relative importance of each channel, decode the message, and form our overall impression.
How information is presented can have a huge influence on our impression. The mode of presentation can act like a ‘plus’ or ‘minus’ sign in front of any statement, completely reversing the statement’s practical effect. A simple, declarative sentence, for example, can mean the opposite of the words actually spoken if those words are delivered with sarcasm. Or, if delivered deadpan with an appropriate timing, those same words can be uproariously funny.
Context is yet another important consideration. Context can do many things, including amplify or ameliorate the impact of meaning. If we were to say that we ate “the world’s hugest hotdog,” no one would expect that this were literally so. People would understand that we just meant a “really big” hotdog. Context helps calibrate our judgment in prescribing the scope of applicability for a given statement.
Context can also influence the perception of what is being said. Knowing that the author of a character reference is presently divorcing the subject of his or her referral may be highly relevant. At very least, we should give that recommendation special handling.
With photography, a similar situation arises when viewers bring extraneous information to the photograph they are seeing. Eisenstaedt’s famous picture of a sailor kissing a nurse in Times Square, for example, was only partly about either the sailor or the nurse. It was also about people’s unbridled exuberance that World War II had just ended, although nowhere in the photograph is there a sign that says exactly this. More subtly, our social conditioning informs us that the couple’s passionate display of affection in such a public setting is irregular. We are cued to apply more resources and figure out why.
Let me be clear: words do have meaning, and it is best to use them appropriately. My point is that to fully enjoy the benefits of communication we must be sensitive to the different channels that carry information, as well as to the nature of messages these channels convey. We must understand, but not be limited by, dictionary definitions. We must be sensitive to the rhythm of the words as well as to the spacing between the lines.
In our particular case, I used the word “integrity” in the midst of a critique. What could I have meant? My dictionary presents three meanings for the word integrity:
1) Adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.
2) The state of being whole, entire, or undiminished.
3) A sound, unimpaired, or perfect condition.
One student aptly volunteered that, for her, photographic integrity entailed a correspondence between the character of a subject and a photograph made of that subject. It is inappropriate to portray everything as being beautiful, she went on. She found a conspicuous lack of integrity in the work of a photographer who made exquisitely beautiful imagery out of an environmentally horrible subject, pollution.
The morally appropriate response to pollution, she felt, would be to show it in all of its ugliness. Alternatively, one could factually document its occurrence, but pollution’s consequence should not be ignored. This student’s use of the word “integrity” relied upon the word’s first meaning, above, in that it had strong ties to a sense of belief, morality and judgment. I accept that this is a fair use of the word.
Generally speaking, when I use the word “integrity” in association with a photographer’s work I suspect that I lean towards the second definition: the state of being whole, entire, or undiminished. I also like the third meaning, with an emphasis on “unimpaired”.
Photographers of integrity remain whole in the face of tremendous pressure that seeks to diminish them. These are photographers with the courage and conviction to honor their own values. These are photographers who show what they see, regardless of whether or not they receive support for their vision. It is possible that eventually these photographers might win over or educate the public, but their integrity is most visible before that, when they are still alone. I believe that, at their core, these photographers are individuals who truly know themselves.
Many great photographers come to mind in this respect. In no particular order my list would include Jock Sturges, Edward Weston, Diane Arbus, and Eugene Richards.
Conversely, when I use the term “lack of integrity” I am generally speaking of photographers who may not have grown to know themselves, or who have abdicated their responsibility to do so. These are photographers who conform to the prevailing winds. They reap immediate, short-term benefits while posturing as something they are not. From where I stand, these individuals do not appear to be whole.
Reading a person is no easier than reading a photograph. Both communicate through a multitude of channels, and I have no delusion of being omniscient. Still, we can nurture sensitivity in our perceptions. We can build and refine the vocabulary with which we express ourselves. And we are better served if we think of communication as an art, rather than as a science.
So, when does a flower photograph demonstrate integrity? When it is watered with the photographer’s heart and soul.