29
namely the Real: “....in short,
what Lacan calls Tuché, the Occasion, the Encounter, the
Real, in its indefatigable expression.”
55
For Lacan, the Imaginary register is intended to veil the subject from the Real, for to get
too close to the Real would be “equivalent to psychic death.”
56
Removing this veil
entirely would be too painful, but Barthes suggests that there are moments when the Real
ruptures the veil of the Imaginary and erupts in traumatic returns. Barthes defines this as
the
punctum, a tiny detail lurking within the image that takes
the viewer by surprise and
alters his understanding of the image. The viewer does not seek out the
punctum, but
rather this detail, Barthes suggests, is an “element which rises from the scene; shoots out
of it like an arrow, and pierces me.”
57
Bursting through the photograph, this detail breaks
up the illusion of coherence within the frame. Significantly the terms used by Barthes to
describe this all suggest their relation to lack: prick, tear, wound, hole.
Beksiński’s
Veil resonates with the image Barthes selected for the frontispiece of
Camera
Lucida, a colour photograph by the French
photographer Daniel Boudinet,
Polaroid
(1979), which shows curtain fabrics drawn against bright light. This melancholic image
consolidates a number of ideas in Barthes’s text. First, it suggests the idea of the
photograph as a screen that mediates between the viewing subject and the Real, obscuring
the Real that lies behind it. Boudinet’s image also seems to make visible a moment of
rupture; a small gap at the bottom of the curtains that allows a chink of light to erupt into
the image. At the start of Barthes’s book then, the punctum is
visualised for the reader as
a piercing of the veil that allows the Real to intrude. Beksiński’s photograph appears to
suggest something similar. His piece of fabric is quite literally torn through, making
visible the idea of puncturing and tearing, bringing together notions of screen, Real and
punctum. The fabric is riddled with multiple holes, saturated
to the extent that the
integrity of the material is compromised. The bleached white sky that lies behind the
cloth speaks of the searing quality of the Real, and the pain involved in any attempt to
directly look upon it. Hal Foster identified moments in recent art making when artists
55
Barthes,
Camera Lucida, 4. See also Margaret Iversen, “What is a Photograph?”
Art History 17 no. 3
(September 1994).
56
Hal Foster,
The Return of the Real: the avant-garde at the end of the century, (Cambridge: MIT, 1996),
138-141.
57
Barthes,
Camera Lucida, 26.
30
have invoked these notions and attempted to deliberately puncture the screen, in order “to
look upon the impossible real.”
58
Iversen has suggested that after
Camera Lucida a change can be discerned in artistic
practice. Lacan’s analysis of Hans Holbein’s
painting The Ambassadors (1533) leads her
to identify a new paradigm, namely that “art, the beautiful illusion, contains within it a
seed of its own dissolution.”
59
At the bottom of his painting, Holbein includes a shadowy
entity that cannot be seen or understood, “a blind spot in conscious perception,” and
which only becomes clearly visible when the painting is looked
at from an angle different
to that of classical renaissance perspective.
60
It is only in walking away from the
painting, and renouncing a position of visual mastery, that the viewer realises this
shadowy stain is in fact a skull. Set again the transparency and fullness of vision
associated with the Imaginary register, “this stain or spot must be approached indirectly,
viewed awry, glancingly, without conscious deliberation.”
61
Iversen uses this example to
suggest
a shift in art making, whereby “the work of art based on the figure of the mirror
was replaced by a model that invokes the anamorphic image, the stain, and the blind
spot.”
62
In a circuitous way, Iversen’s analysis takes me back to my thesis and my stated
intention to make visible the moments of traumatic return in post-war Polish photographs,
moments when the Real can be understood to puncture the veil,
or create a blind spot or
stain. I am interested in the ways that photographs can be understood to communicate
these traumas indirectly, belatedly and obliquely. Rather than just analysing the works
that present on an Imaginary plane – that is to say, the coherent images presented on the
surface of the photographic paper – I intend to ‘view awry’, to push aside the veil, and to
make visible the stains and blind spots that disrupt the visual field
and gesture towards the
unassimilated traumas that lie beyond.
58
Hal Foster, "Obscene, Abject, Traumatic,"
October 78 (1996): 109. See also Foster,
The Return of the
Real, 138-141.
59
Iversen,
Beyond Pleasure, 11.
60
Ibid., 7.
61
Iversen, “What is a Photograph?” 457. On the link between stain and
punctum, Iversen says that, “There
is, then, a blind spot in the orthodox perceptual field which Lacan calls the stain (la tache), defined, like the
gaze, as that which always escapes from the grasp of that form of vision that is satisfied with itself in
imagining itself as consciousness.” (Iversen, ibid.)
62
Iversen,
Beyond Pleasure, 6. Lacan introduced this figure in
The Four Fundamental Concepts,
where
he used the distorted skull floating in the foreground of Hans Holbein’s
The Ambassadors
(1533) to
figure the blind spot in conscious perception. See
Seminar XI: The Four Fundamental Concepts of
Psychoanalysis
, 1964.