The frame announces that between the part of reality that was cut away and this part there is a difference; and that this segment which the frame frames is an example of nature-as-representation, nature-as-sign.
To convulse reality from within, to demonstrate it as fractured spacing, became the collective result of all that vast range of techniques to which surrealist photographers resorted and which they understood as producing the characteristics of the sign.
The idea of photography as evidence is pure bullshit. A photo is no more proof of any reality than what you may hear being said by someone in a bus. We only record details, small fragments of the world.
[The photograph is] still a space to reorganize our thoughts about reality and our place in the world. How do you disentangle the surface of reality?
Singing wasn't a reality for me, until other people started noticing I sounded good.
In my photographic work I was always especially entranced... by the moment when the shadows of reality, so to speak, emerge out of nothing on the exposed paper, as memories do in the middle of the night, darkening again if you try to cling to them.
I was actually on two reality shows, which is crazy. Just to think that, out there, there was some guy, like flipping through the channels, being like, 'Hey, I 69'd her on a cruise ship.
Reality TV is the perfect antidote to people who don't have enough self-centered douchebags in their life.
You will never experience less reality than when you are watching a reality show. You're watching people who aren't actors, put into situations created by people who aren't writers and they're second guessing how they think you would like to see them behave if this were a real situation, which it's not. And you are passively observing this; watching an amateur production of nothing. It's like a photo of a drawing of a hologram.
Anticipation almost always exceeds the reality of that which we anticipated.
Not sure how I feel about reality. I'm going to begin purchasing stuffed animals and endowing them with the qualities people in my life lack.
Every song I've ever written has been based in reality, based in fact, things that happen to me.
It's just the reality. Everyone's going to die and everyone's going to get sick at some point. But I do believe that there are choices you can make in life that will make you as healthy as possible.
I do less-fanciful reality. I celebrate the fat, the ugly, the women who can't get guys. I'm not trying to entertain you; I'm trying to make you passionate.
The picture is the imitation and converted reality of the goods, in short, an indirect substitute for reality.
Each image suggests an inner reality, a kind of scar of the past, a reflection of an act or an event once lived.
Full-color images lack the poignancy of monochrome... Black-and-white film inherently peels off interesting images from the world; it sees things we do not see, and thus insists on the existence of a phantom presence within reality, a world we cannot perceive.
The wholeness, coherence, identity, which we attribute to the depicted scene [in a photograph] is a projection, a refusal of an impoverished reality in favour of an imagined plenitude.
To live in a world of photographs is to live in a world of substitutes... or so it seems, whose actual referent is always the other, the described, the reality of a world once removed. I prefer, on the other hand, to look at the photographs as something real and of my world, a strange and powerful thing... part of a language, a system of communication, an economy of signs.
To an ever greater extent out experience is governed by pictures, pictures in newspapers and magazines, on television and in the cinema. Next to these pictures firsthand experience begins to retreat, to seem more and more trivial. While it once seemed that pictures had the function of interpreting reality, it now seems they have usurped it. It therefore becomes imperative to understand the picture itself, not in order to uncover a lost reality, but to determine how a picture becomes a signifying structure of its own accord.
They were just snapshots, nothing special, nothing particularly artistic. They were used for utility purposes. (On photographs of mundane streetscapes he had Stanley Something-or-other take in Sacramento in 1988 to serve as backgrounds to his cartoons. People don't draw it, all this crap, people don't focus attention on it because it's ugly, it's bleak, it's depressing... But, this is the world we live in; I wanted my work to reflect that, the background reality of urban life. )
If an image is powerful enough, if it resists us, if, by its obscure coherence, part of it escapes our understanding, then it means that something has been won from reality.
Things just enter reality through photographs.
Photography has fooled the world. There's no more convincing fraud. Its images are nothing but the expression of the invisible man working behind the camera. They are not reality, they form part of the language of culture.
Weston's sensual texture or Cartier-Bresson's implacable composition are apt to close over themselves, attaining the perfection of a certain sensual and harmonious bliss. We see textures, volumes, equilibrium - and reality, open and ragged, is lost and transcended.
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