What interested me the most was Campany’s examination of
freeze frames and screen shots as “a kind of instant history or memory that … [moving
images are not]”. The blurry, hazy quality of the freeze frame is certainly
more similar to an actual memory. A memory, in my experience at least, is
usually a murky recollection, stunted and vague, much like a freeze frame. What
I did not necessarily agree with, however, was that “the photograph seems
memorable in the contemporary media-sphere it is probably because it says very
little.”
Campany makes a good point that these stills rely on our
culture’s reliance on visual media and the “televisual”; however, relying on a
collective knowledge doesn't necessarily detract from the value or meaning of
the image. A screen shot speaks volumes as it appears to speak the
unadulterated truth — it is a frame and seemingly unedited. I think this
quality is largely due to the fact that the screenshot feels candid — it is a
quick snapshot of something larger. It was not meant to be seen without the
context of a whole and, as result, it is exposed as a vulnerable image. I think
our connection with freeze frames stems largely from the feeling of truth that
they convey because how could a still be framed or posed? It seems
implausible and preys on our sense of nostalgia and trust.
Kasia Thomas
1 comment:
When Campany spoke about the photograph saying very little, I took it in it's literal sense. The muteness of the photograph or freeze-frames sets it apart from the videos they may have been taken from. We go all day listening to peoples voices, be it over the television during a program or just walking down the road,our ears are bombarded. With all those voices, they become a kind of white noise, and thus aren't remembered much if at all. With the quiet photograph, we don't hear those voices, and it gives us time to stop and think, thus letting the photograph register in our memory.
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