Remnants of the gone jolly days

Julian Tanase

Well-Known Member
There is something intriguing about this photograph here, something that moves me in a way few of my photographs did. When I saw the harlequin head lying on a makeshift pile of junk, my first thought was this would make a fun photograph, interesting perhaps because of the contrast between the junk and the smile that lies on top of it. The smile can be what remains when the good days are over, and all we are left with are broken smiles, junk memories and the detritus of what once was a jolly good life. Remnants of the gone jolly days, as it were.

harlequin1.jpg

But the more I look, the more I realize this is not what it is. I mean, perhaps some may see it that way, but I do not anymore. To be honest, I do not know what to make of the image, or of the meaning of the image. I do not understand how and why the difference is so big, between my initial feeling and the feeling that I have now. It’s like I do not even remember taking this shot, or why. It’s a completely different thing, one that escapes me in both representation and meaning.

All I know is that what I feel now is a hundredfold more intense and deep; the eyes, the mouth, the expression, are as many things that send me into thinking that, on the day, I must’ve seen something well beyond my power of comprehension. I took the shot, perhaps because my inner self told me to, for unknown reasons.

For what is worth, taken with a Nikkormat FT3 and Rollei‘s Paul & Rheinhold @ 1600.​
 
@Julian Tanase I believe that if a photograph possesses a certain degree of abstraction and expressiveness, and does not have a strictly documentary character of everyday life, it inherently has the potential to become a moving target. In the sense that, by leaving room for fantasy (and here the term fantasy is more appropriate than imagination), the photograph evolves in meaning over time, both subjectively and objectively, because the viewer’s gaze is constantly renewed, and so too is the landscape of collective perception.
A dreaming photograph never ages renewing itself through time, abstract and alive, it shifts with the gaze and speaks from Aeschylus to Shakespeare, and still to us.
 
A dreaming photograph never ages renewing itself through time, abstract and alive, it shifts with the gaze and speaks from Aeschylus to Shakespeare, and still to us.
Nice!

I think some photos are meant to mean different things to different people.
 
An intriguing image, Julian.
I agree with Gianluca. Even before I read his comment I'd gone from the trite 'The Carnival is Over' interpretation an wandered into 'Alas poor Yorrick' territory.
 
Back
Top