Cut The Cameras (Deadass)
Earlier this year, I saw Civilization: The Way We Live Now, a thematic photography experience featuring work from 150 photographers. In 8 chapters, it details the progression and failings of the human race. It bleeds into family dynamics, our travel and hotel practices (one of my faves), technology, frontline journalism, the refugee crisis and sort of everything in-between.
HIVE: where we live
ALONE TOGETHER: how we relate to one another
FLOW: how we move our bodies and goods
PERSUASION: the power of influence
ESCAPE: how we relax
CONTROL: maintaining order and discipline
RUPTURE: breakdown and disorder
NEXT: new worlds on the horizon
Curated by William A Ewing & Holly Roussell Perret-Gentil
TVs from Craigslist by Penelope Umbrico is a featured collection of blown up tvs reflecting unnamed and unknown people who responded to Umbrico’s ad for a tv. Personally, I was struck by the ethics of it all. Did these people know their small action of taking a photo of a TV to sell is now fodder in a photographer’s portfolio and has been shown nationally and internationally? Would they have agreed to their blurry images and likeness being shared otherwise? Does the creation and intention of art negate the necessity of consent? Let’s get into it.
Eyes of God - The Great Gatsby
Surveillance State
-I find gestures of intimate and private exposure, various states of undress, unmade beds, dirty laundry – all accessible to an entirely anonymous public.’
- Penelope Umbrico
At the start of the year, Jason Okundaye penned this article titled, ‘Why it’s time to stop filming strangers in public for social media thrills’. In this, Okundaye writes that the elevation of social media and technology means that ‘a stranger becomes a supporting character in a skit they’ve not auditioned for. Like Candid Camera for generation Z, it’s commonplace for strangers to be pranked or misled for the purposes of content.’ Recording people in public isn’t always intentionally malicious, but it does require some reflection on the purpose of circulating footage within personal and social circles. And it makes sense.
At some point soon, if it hasn’t already happened (again), a Twitter user will circulate a familiar image or footage and say something like ‘take me back’ or ‘I miss the days when people used to *insert comment on phones, dancing, vibes or something similar’.* Which can be annoying but also fair enough. The common sentiment with this nostalgia is ease. Less self awareness and worry about a seemingly small or random moment going viral or becoming content (monetised or otherwise). We’re all on edge, and rightfully so.
Cut the cameras - Blac Chyna
Let me set the scene
It’s November, it’s dark outside, it’s cold, it’s miserable. I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to go to work. So I scroll on Tiktok and I come across a video by a user I quite like. I’m listening and then -
Euphoria season 2, episode 7
The scenario at first was funny, I did indeed find humour in it. At the same time, I also felt (feel) somewhat uncomfortable. A chance scenario that had happened weeks ago, managed to become content to thousands of viewers about a situation I didn’t find out about until I watched the video. It’s funny when you’re in the know, have all the details and can laugh about it with friends. You feel a bit like a clown when you’re the unknowing party on the outside and in the internet streets. So I ask, if everything is not content, can the same apply to art?
The ethics of visibility: does art trump consent?
I’ll be honest, I don’t like Umbrico’s series. I don’t like it because I can’t seem to get past the ethics of visibility and consent. Unfortunately, Penelope Umbrico is not the first and she won’t be the last person to blur these lines. For some artists (Sophie Calle), it’s almost emblematic of their work. In Umbrico’s words, the series became something of a ‘voyeuristic proceeding’, a case study into people’s lives. ‘It’s like I’m invited into people’s living-rooms and bedrooms to look at the TV they want to sell and there they are, with unmade bed, sometimes completely naked, reflected in the surface of a TV they no longer want.’
Reading through her site, there’s no mention of consent. This isn’t to say a conversation wasn’t had and if there was, it would have been interesting to see how she navigated this and reconciled it with her work. As it stands, her site gives no reflection on the basis of her art but instead an almost unnerving fascination with her [unknowing] subjects. She speaks instead of ‘a subconscious undercurrent of exhibitionism here; a plea for attention.’ I won’t go into the connotations of this but I will say that the value of art over the value of privacy worries me. Not only are these pieces displayed, they are also sold.
‘In utilizing the public domain both for its content and its context, the sale of the edition addresses issues of exchange’
‘The juxtaposition of the art market with a consumer market engages an unsuspecting consumer public and asks it to consider the value of an art object (made from its own visual vocabulary) to be as worthy of their attention as the consumer object they hope to acquire.’
So now we have a conversation on art, surveillance, consent and commercialisation. What are the rules for art creation, and what is the line between this is okay vs this is not okay. This joins the chicken-egg dilemma in a way, which itself is a version of the art-life dichotomy. This unending cycle of who becomes what and what becomes who doesn’t have an definite answer which kinda sucks because now I don’t really know how to end this. On the basis of art, surveillance and consent, even in its goodness and importance, art can still blur the line. I know that because I also know that multiple truths can and do exist.
Unfortunately, I don’t really know how to end this so go forth and ponder as I have.
I’ve chosen not to display any images from the collection on here but you can find this on Umbricos’ website.
Recommended reading by those who know more than me:
