Eyes Wide Shut
Eyes Wide Shut (Originally written for fLip magazine)
Sounds obvious, but without my eyes I cannot see. I have a vestibular condition which leaves me with visual vertigo and means that without using my eyes I cannot balance. I (my brain) interprets the signals incorrectly and gives me a topsy-turvy view of the world. Eyes open - fine, eyes closed - fall-over. We need more than our eyes to relay what’s going on in the physical world and perhaps not unsurprising for a photographer, I use my eyes too much. So, I actually spend a lot of time with my eyes closed, practicing to balance and to hopefully stop that feeling of being on a lurching sea vessel. This got me thinking about how we use our eyes to make sense of the world and how conversely, how much we need other peoples’ eyes to make sense of what they are experiencing.
With this in mind, I thought it would be interesting to explore this further and take a series of portraits where the sitters’ eyes were closed. How would people read a portrait without the windows to the soul? Read any book on portrait photography and they will always tell you to focus on the eyes, and for good reason, this is our way into the image and the person in front of the camera. Take that away however, and you are left with not quite knowing where to look.
As the portrait session began, I asked people to think of something in particular, to try and direct the sitters to some extent, but quickly resorted to allowing people their own quiet moment to think, or not think, their own thoughts as this seemed more interesting.
An eyes open portrait shows us the public persona, the image, that to some extent, the sitter wants us to see. But take away the eyes and the image immediately becomes more personal and intimate, as if we have gone into this person’s very private world. It feels somehow illicit, too intrusive as if we haven’t been given permission to view. It lacks the returned gaze of the subject, the meeting of two minds that connect us.
When I showed the portraits to friends I noticed how their interpretations of the sitter’s emotional state differed dramatically: some thought certain subjects to be relaxed and deep in thought, while others thought the same person appeared tense and uncomfortable. I saw all of this and perhaps also some bemusement (what is this guy doing?) in the faces of the sitters. Like trying to discern the Mona’s Lisa’s smile, the brain gets a series of mixed signals which makes it difficult to read and interpret. A person looks to another’s eyes in order to read their face and understand their emotional state. With the eyes removed from observation you may find yourself, almost desperately, scanning the faces for other clues. Often a smile’s authenticity can be determined by the eyes which may confirm or betray a person’s real intention. It’s like trying to read a book with half the alphabet missing.
When taking a person’s portrait there is a connection between the photographer and the subject, something that will affect the final image and give us something more than just a likeness. It is always tempting when looking at a portrait to try and read something deeper into the superficial likeness, to draw out a character’s essence, to see what type of person they truly are. We want more than literal, mechanical truth, we want psychological truth, and failing that, some form of mystery. It is this mystery, this holding of something back, that encourage us to look at portraits over and over again.
It is this difference of interpretation and sense of mystery that makes portrait photography so fascinating and rewarding. For me this is the beginning of an exploration in this area. Having the subjects eyes closed raises questions in the viewer and hopefully that encourages their engagement.
These portraits were part of a LIP group project - The Queens Park Portrait Project where a few fellow photographers got together at a local event in the park and invited people in to be photographed. You can see more of my work and that of the others at http://www.queensparkportraitproject.co.uk
Read MoreSounds obvious, but without my eyes I cannot see. I have a vestibular condition which leaves me with visual vertigo and means that without using my eyes I cannot balance. I (my brain) interprets the signals incorrectly and gives me a topsy-turvy view of the world. Eyes open - fine, eyes closed - fall-over. We need more than our eyes to relay what’s going on in the physical world and perhaps not unsurprising for a photographer, I use my eyes too much. So, I actually spend a lot of time with my eyes closed, practicing to balance and to hopefully stop that feeling of being on a lurching sea vessel. This got me thinking about how we use our eyes to make sense of the world and how conversely, how much we need other peoples’ eyes to make sense of what they are experiencing.
With this in mind, I thought it would be interesting to explore this further and take a series of portraits where the sitters’ eyes were closed. How would people read a portrait without the windows to the soul? Read any book on portrait photography and they will always tell you to focus on the eyes, and for good reason, this is our way into the image and the person in front of the camera. Take that away however, and you are left with not quite knowing where to look.
As the portrait session began, I asked people to think of something in particular, to try and direct the sitters to some extent, but quickly resorted to allowing people their own quiet moment to think, or not think, their own thoughts as this seemed more interesting.
An eyes open portrait shows us the public persona, the image, that to some extent, the sitter wants us to see. But take away the eyes and the image immediately becomes more personal and intimate, as if we have gone into this person’s very private world. It feels somehow illicit, too intrusive as if we haven’t been given permission to view. It lacks the returned gaze of the subject, the meeting of two minds that connect us.
When I showed the portraits to friends I noticed how their interpretations of the sitter’s emotional state differed dramatically: some thought certain subjects to be relaxed and deep in thought, while others thought the same person appeared tense and uncomfortable. I saw all of this and perhaps also some bemusement (what is this guy doing?) in the faces of the sitters. Like trying to discern the Mona’s Lisa’s smile, the brain gets a series of mixed signals which makes it difficult to read and interpret. A person looks to another’s eyes in order to read their face and understand their emotional state. With the eyes removed from observation you may find yourself, almost desperately, scanning the faces for other clues. Often a smile’s authenticity can be determined by the eyes which may confirm or betray a person’s real intention. It’s like trying to read a book with half the alphabet missing.
When taking a person’s portrait there is a connection between the photographer and the subject, something that will affect the final image and give us something more than just a likeness. It is always tempting when looking at a portrait to try and read something deeper into the superficial likeness, to draw out a character’s essence, to see what type of person they truly are. We want more than literal, mechanical truth, we want psychological truth, and failing that, some form of mystery. It is this mystery, this holding of something back, that encourage us to look at portraits over and over again.
It is this difference of interpretation and sense of mystery that makes portrait photography so fascinating and rewarding. For me this is the beginning of an exploration in this area. Having the subjects eyes closed raises questions in the viewer and hopefully that encourages their engagement.
These portraits were part of a LIP group project - The Queens Park Portrait Project where a few fellow photographers got together at a local event in the park and invited people in to be photographed. You can see more of my work and that of the others at http://www.queensparkportraitproject.co.uk
