They say that history is the greatest teacher of all. That to tell where we are going, all we have to do is look backwards to see where we have been. In compiling this series of photos, that sentiment stuck with me. As I posted the colorized photos, I felt more connected with the men and women who are part of them. As some people have pointed out in the comments, this can be an uncomfortable experience. When photos are in black and white, the men and women within them are part of the past. When they are in color, they become more than that- they become part of us. We can no longer cast them aside as relics of a bygone era. As photos become colorized, the emotions that were latent rise to the surface. Lincoln transforms from a man we read about in high school to a man who looks troubled by an immense sadness. The sailor kissing the girl transforms from an iconic image to a more human display of love. We have talked about photography as it pertains to death, and that theme is intertwined with this essay. We see Martin Luther King Jr. in a photo that looks as if it could have been taken yesterday. We want to scream out. We want to warn him that his life is in danger. But we can't. This is what can be troubling with this essay. As we feel more connected to the people in the photos, we feel more responsible for them. With this responsibility comes a sense of guilt.
I found that the punctum of the image often changed after it was
transformed into color. Many of the comments pointed this out as well.
This change of punctum allows us to approach the image with a fresh
perspective. So many of these images have reached a level of fame that
they almost have emotions prepackaged with them. By changing the color, we can
change our perception. When the photo of the men outside the shop is in black
and white, it looks as if everyone is enjoying a rest after a long day's work.
When the photo is colorized, the racial undertones of the image rise to
the surface. One is quick to notice the white man's posture as compared to
those around him. He is the only one not sitting, as if he doesn't want
to associate himself with the others.
In
the last photo of the essay, I tried to experiment with what would happen if
this process were reversed. If coloring an image gives it life, does sapping
that color take the life away? I would argue that it does. The last photo
is of me and my siblings at a beach in South Carolina. The image was
taken only four months ago yet, without its color, it might as well have been
taken eighty years ago. Transforming the last image saddened me. It made
me realize that one day my siblings and I will be only a memory of the past.
Someone could look at the photo and ask themselves the same questions we
have asked ourselves as we looked at photos of other families. They won't know
my family. They won't know about the bonds I share with my brother and
sisters. They will see a family unit, perhaps make some comment about the
number of children, and move on. No matter what we do, one day we will all be
part of the past. As I concluded this essay, I was reminded of Nick
Carraway's last line in the Great Gatsby: "So we beat on, boats against
the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
Back shadowing, and lack thereof- The majority of these images (the black and white versions) are loaded with back shadowing and history. They're iconic and important. But what's sad is that they have faded into history. They reflect Roland Barthes' theory of death in an image. However, once they are translated into a color image it makes me feel as if the people are brought back to life. They're taken out of history and put in the present; they're now in living color. The last image of you and, who I assume to be, your siblings is adorable and real... but then once turned to a black and white image it, tragically, feels as though it faded into history.
ReplyDeleteThe Consequences of Backshadowing - As we discussed "backshadowing" with Vishniac's photographs, the concept definitely applies here as well. The figures presented before the one of yourself all have well known fates that will occur after the image is taken. However, after these images are transformed from black and white to color, they lose the punctum that belongs to that backshadowing - maybe because the color is less ominous. In the same respect, your images almost becomes backshadowed when it is changed to black and white as if the figures in the image are meant to be part of the past.
ReplyDeleteBridge. With the power of color, Will bridges the past to the present. I read the black and white reflections as iconic and drained of punctum. I feel required to delve into the historical context for meaning. While the color brings it to the here and now---validates or renews. Perhaps the color is somehow assisting in the reinvention of morals and values of our historical past? Whatever the case, the photographer highlights the importance between color and how it persuades us to believe in his reality.
ReplyDeleteColorblind-These photos touch on the concept of Barthes' "that has been" Though the viewer is aware of the back shadowing present, it also shows a sense of rebirth. The historical contexts of these photos have allowed them to live on after the subject's demise. The color adds another dimension and another way of seeing history, as if it were alive in living color today. However, Will's final, recent color photo fades into black and white, indicating the universal and inescapable death.
ReplyDeleteMost of the photographs are iconic and a part of history, and to put them in color takes away from their position in history. Though color adds vividness, it also tampers with how the viewers remember seeing some of the photos. In terms of the final picture, it is as if the color represents the vividness in the moment (and the memory of it), but over time it will fade into history (black and white).
ReplyDeleteI think these photographs make an interesting statement about history itself. By adding color to the photos it forces us to come to the realization that these subjects were alive and are no longer (most of them at least). By adding the photo of yourself in both black and white and color we are prompted to view history as not just the past, but what is occurring in our lives at this very moment. It is enlightening but sorrowful as well. We know that history is something that has passed, and by bringing history into the now, we are reminded of the inevitable passing of this very moment as well.
ReplyDeleteInteresting how the Depression looks quite less depressing in color... I say this as I look at the fourth pairing of photos, contrasting the listless gray scene on the top with the cartoonish, almost cheery ambience below it. These pairings not only encourage a viewer to doubt the "death" of these subjects--but also to deconstruct the reverence with which such iconic photos are typically approached. Instead, this essay leads a viewer to revere what is here, living, and present with clever role reversal of color and shadow in the final pairing.
ReplyDeleteI think the others have really nailed it; the sudden shift to color changes the way the viewer interacts with the photos. They seem like fresh images, and I'm definitely more able to pick out details that I would have otherwise overlooked. The picture of the nurse and soldier kissing specifically has punctum for me because I remember with the colored version was finished and released, and I immediately loved it so much more than the black and white. I feel that way about most of these images, and the discovery of that was really interesting for me and made me think about why the colored versions of these photographs--even though the originals of some if not all were the black and whites--feel more truthful to me.
ReplyDeleteThe original black and white photos are so iconic and thoroughly disseminated that it seems almost like a revision of public memory to see them in color. Somehow I’m bothered by the incongruence of history washed through with contemporary, digital colors. But the last photo is the opposite, the little girl with her tongue out, the lightly moving waves, the older girl’s blue shirt pop in the color in a way that feels muted in black and white.
ReplyDeleteHow different my sense of America would be if I imagined Abraham in color!
ReplyDeleteFor me he will always be a black and white image. The colors seem false. But a recent photo in black in white strikes me in just the opposite way. I wonder what it was like to see the first color photo.
Color (and especially with such high saturation) makes these historical witnesses very strange. Cartoonish even.
The decision not to put any captions beneath the pictures is offset by the coloring of the pictures -- the relationship between the color and the black and white accomplishes the work of captioning. That and the fact that all the pictures with the exception of the one of your family, are iconic. We all know who these people are, more or less, or at least what the place of these images has been in American culture.
ReplyDeleteThe dialogue between the photos and our own sense of obligation to their subjects because of the colorization is a fascinating observation. Also the sense of pastness and immediacy created by the coloring, or lack thereof, is also important.