In Plato's Cave

            In the first essay of Susan Sontag’s On Photography, Sontag discusses photography as a modern day equivalent to Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave.” According to Sontag, society, with its constant exposure to photos of the world and everything in it, is comparable to prisoners exposed only to shadows on a wall: the images viewed directly in front of their eyes are accepted as reality, as a true reflection of the subject itself, when in actuality, truth is found only in the source of the “shadows” or photography. Photographs, Sontag insists, with their mass availability and industrialization, have been accepted as a sufficiently valid representation of an event, place or person, even being considered as valid as actually encountering such things in person. She sums up society’s willingness to use photography as a replacement for reality by saying, “Ultimately, having an experience becomes identical with taking a photograph of it, and participating in a public event comes more and more to be equivalent with looking at it in photographed form” (Sontag 24).

            Sontag, however, disagrees with this steadfast belief in photography as a replacement for reality. She argues that photography can never be considered completely objective in the same way that a painting or written piece can never entirely remove the voice of its creator. She says, “In deciding how a picture should look, in preferring one exposure to another, photographers are always imposing standards on their subjects” (Sontag 6). The result is a picture that is still never a complete reflector of reality, yet society accepts it as such. The subsequent effect creates public numbness to true experience and reality—just as the prisoners viewing shadows on a wall. They become blind to reality in the space behind them, and therefore choose to ignore it. Yet, this disregard does not make the true reality any less real, and Sontag implies that it is a good photographer’s role to act as the “released prisoner,” or one who truly views reality and attempts to describe it to those still viewing the shadows as objectively as possible.

            Thus, Sontag indicates that the key to encouraging truth behind photography is for the photographer to view the world like the prisoner who has seen beyond the shadows. Instead of seeing “shadows” of the world, a photographer must see beyond pure images and into the content of what he or she is viewing—what makes this object interesting? How does this person reflect his or her existence in movement and expression?

            Thus, it is the photographer’s goal to actually see the subject: not as a picture to be documented, but as an experience to be described.

            I first encountered this mindset towards photography in a little restaurant in the middle of “Nowhere, Arizona.” We were there to visit family, and we decided to go to dinner in the western-themed and rugged-looking little restaurant. When we first entered one room, I was immediately drawn to an old piano sitting in the corner. The lazy spring sun was casting a dim light on the old instrument, and I immediately ventured over, camera in hand, to take a picture.

            The first picture I took was one of a very typical nature—it depicted the full piano and the light streaming in from the window behind it. Immediately, I knew that this picture did not embody this piano as I saw it. As Sontag would describe it, my first picture was a depiction of the piano, yes, but it was not a description of that piano. I needed to see beyond the image and into the artisanal value of what I was seeing. So I tried again.

            The second picture was a bit closer to my goal. It offered a shot of only the keys and the window behind them, all cast with a sleepy-looking light. This angle presented a better representation of what drew me to it in the first place, but still, I knew something was missing. This was a more aesthetically interesting picture than the first, but it was still just a depiction.

            So, I stepped back and thought to myself: What am I looking at? Not only what is it to me, but why is it to me? The answer was simple: This piano was a contradiction. It was an instrument that embodied music, beauty, life, family and happiness, yet all those symbols of life and vigor were masked by age, isolation and disregard. The piano sat there, in all of its happy potential, unused and forgotten.

            Now I thought: what most embodies this contradiction? How do I depict age and lack of use while also displaying potential? And then it struck me: The dust. The dust on the keys implied age as well as disuse. Thus, the dust itself became as significant of an element to the photograph as the piano itself. But as for describing potential and happiness? What better way than to borrow from another aged (but full of potential) subject: my grandmother. So, I asked her to play a bit on the old piano. The result was my final image.

            For the first time, I felt like the prisoner who had finally seen beyond the shadows. Finally, I had found a way to make a picture show more than just an image, but also an ideal.

            Throughout “In Plato’s Cave,” Sontag encourages this mindset. While she believes that a picture can never truly depict reality, she does imply that it can come close and that society would be better for it. If one truly perceives the world beyond the shadows, one can attempt to describe it to those who still cannot through descriptive, not depictive, photography.