In her last blog post, Soloff vividly explains the general limitations and detriments of photography by referring to Trethewey’s, “Bellocq’s Ophelia.” She mentions that photography can only paint a single moment, instead of surrounding details, and that photography cannot portray pictures and emotions accurately. Although these observations are indeed detrimental, there are also some benefits to these limitations that apply to Ophelia’s situation. Ophelia uses these restrictions of photography to control her appearance and identity even in the conditions of subjection in which she finds herself. She also empowers herself with this control of appearance as an apprentice photographer.
The level of Ophelia’s control is first observed in her relationship with Constance and her mother. When Ophelia writes to Constance about the “lewdness” of her photographic experience at the police station, she immediately decides to send “this picture of her good work/,” one “modest portrait for [her] mother.” She makes it clear to Constance and her mother that they “will not see those [lewd] photographs,” because the photographs expose the accurate truth about Ophelia’s life experiences (Trethewey 29). By sending a “modest portrait,” and hiding the lewd photograph, Ophelia chooses to mask the reality of suffering from the external view of Constance or her mother. The modest portrait provides an inaccurate description of her conditions, but is beneficial to Ophelia because she can choose the appearances that she wants people to see. In essence, she is in control of how she is represented in each photograph, even though she is auctioned like a slave to white men.
In addition, Ophelia mentions that she “knows how not to be exposed,” when in front of the camera because this knowledge retains her sense of power (Trethewey 42). Knowing how to avoid exposure influences the appearance of her posture and makes her invulnerable to the judgments of men who look at her. Her true identity as a mulatto is hidden from the portraits, but she controls herself so that she is acknowledged as the white woman she thinks she is. This obscured appearance of the photographs helps her benefit personally because she is portraying how she views herself to the outside.
Ophelia also benefits from the control she gains as a photographer herself. In her diary titled “Disclosure,” she enjoys the “power/ [she] finds in transforming what is real—a room/ flushed with light, calculated disarray” (Trethewey 44). The room that is referenced is disorganized in reality, but becomes an object of wonder because of Ophelia’s influence and power to transform an ordinary room to an object of significance. When she is behind the camera as a photographer, she has control over what specimens to include within the frame of her lens. She also has the power to portray the picture in whatever manner she desires. This freedom of desire benefits her because she controls the appearance of the picture and she enjoys it.
Although photography inaccurately portrays Ophelia’s appearance and true identity, she is able to gain some control over her life through her choices and knowledge. This incorrect portrayal of appearance and identity serves as a benefit to her because she is satisfied and content by them.
Perhaps I’m simply repeating myself from Thursday, Posi, but I wonder if part of the ability for photography to lend a sense of wonder to what it shows us is related to the very real costs of photography. If someone did bother to take a picture of a room, in other words, you might spend some more time looking at it because you know that it cost them some real money to do so. We have the same reaction when looking at art in a museum: we often look because of the context and not so much because of the work of art itself.