Camera Ludus Saturday November 5, 2005
A photographer once compared a film to a story, and a photo to a joke. His own images juxtaposed unexpected content, with humorous effect: for example, a willowy-thin fashion model devouring a huge bar of chocolate. Regarding a photo as a ‘joke’ is actually less obvious, and more subtle and perceptive than this might suggest. Every photograph is a ‘joke’ in the sense that it both represents reality and plays a game with the viewer who knows, like the photographer, it is an impossible and deceptive task to capture and portray slices of temporal reality into 2D compositions.
Psychologists have studied jokes and tried to understand why they are pleasurable, and how they work – Freud did this. Although there are many kinds of jokes and blanket generalisations have to be qualified, one general characteristic is the unexpected juxtaposition that triggers a laughter reflex because we don’t expect it, from which comes a new kind of perception. It’s fun, and triggers a psycho-organic reaction as if part of us is relaxed and reconfigured. Recently for example, there was a period of time before comedians dared to joke about 9/11. It was too tragic, too serious, and too painful. Then gradually, carefully, they began to joke about it in public – not disrespecting the anguish and loss of life but by finding something, somewhere, where a little levity was possible. Now we are used to seeing parodied Bin Laden’s on TV, like he’s a ridiculous cartoon character from Sesame Street rather than a murderous Islamic psychopath. We laugh about it, and momentarily transcend and feel better about a dire and troublesome subject.
When I studied literature at university I was fascinated by the psychology and aesthetic of tragedy, beginning with Ancient Greek plays, then Shakespeare, and finishing with contemporary work like Hedda Gabler or Waiting For Godot which is the closest we get to modern tragedy, articulated in modern terms. I particularly enjoyed the hero that actors frequently regard as the most sophisticated and definitive dramatic challenge: Hamlet himself, portraying all the angst and philosophising of the tragic disposition. Or maybe I’d just been spending too long in the university library – because when we were introduced to the aesthetic and philosophy of comedy I realised that As You Like It, A Midsummer Night’s Dream etc. were just as sophisticated as the tragic plays, and possibly more so. Like Monty Python’s Brian singing the lovely little tune, “Always look on the bright side of life toot-toot, toot-toot-toot-toot-toot” – we recognise tragedy but can transcend it with comedy. Much as I dislike Christianity and the way it is embedded into the Western psyche (and I try to avoid thinking about it), its central myths arguably embody the tragic outlook, and the Monty Python film was an inspired, satirical reconfiguration of tired and stultifying old dogma. And the same thing happens in Shakespeare: comedy does recognise tragedy, but then goes a step further and suggests that life is better when we laugh rather than cry – and actually, this may be a more profound philosophical position.
Comedy is therefore not be taken lightly; it’s a big subject worthy of paradoxically serious consideration. And if a photograph is a joke, it immediately becomes philosophically interesting. I would suggest in fact, that this is the continual and underlying fascination with photography, often beginning in childhood with that first camera and the magical new discovery and continuing – for the enthusiast – into an absorbing and multi-faceted hobby. It’s a joke – we know that picture is not the real thing, and every time we release that shutter we enjoy the fun of this essentially playful activity, and the creative satisfactions it provides for the ludic instincts.