A Self Portrait

The day a snowflake got lost in the snow.
2m10s
Found Footage
Camera: Jörg Milz, Editing: Julia Milz

“Photographs are signs which don’t take, which turn, as milk does. Whatever grants to vision and whatever is manner, a photograph is always invisible: It is not it that we see”. With Camera Lucida Roland Barthes took on a project very different from his studies within the field of semiotics: for the first time he divorced from the dictation of cultural studies, the formula of signifier and signified, and found himself alone and “disarmed” with regards to examining the photographic image (Barthes, 6). The motivation for writing this book came when Barthes looked at a picture taken of his mother “before his time”- the famous Winter Garden Photograph, and recognized “Her”- a realization disclosed only to him (we are never permitted a glimpse). This moment led him to the conclusion that he could write about photography only from an utterly subjective standpoint. Social science and a scientific study of the photograph lacked what Barthes set out to establish in Camera Lucida, “My particularity could never again universalize itself…”(Barthes, 72). 
The portrait in the history of photography always functioned as evidence for the “has been there” and with the emergence of the bourgeois family portrait has become as signifier of culture and its specific sets of values, class, status, and a trace of individuality (Sturken and Cartwright, 24). Furthermore an important expectation has moved into focus: “And now, smile…and now we are truly happy… forever!” Yet, due to the frame within which the photographic image operates, everything beyond remains myth- an aspect highlighted by Christian Boltanski who in his piece Photo Album of Family D. (1971) demonstrated how images are evidences of appearances but grant us little if not no information about the realities portrayed. Boltanski decontextualized hundreds of images and threw them back together, reconstructing “false” family histories: “When we see reality we always try to match the image that we have with the reality before us. I think we don’t see reality, but we always try to recognize reality” [1]
I find myself somewhere in between Barthes and Boltanski as I revisit my childhood. There are almost no conventional family portraits in our photo-albums, nor do those that exist speak much truth about “us”. Most pictures are episodes of performed smiles in front of the ocean, in deserts, and around the Christmas dinner table, frozen in time- “Yes, we went there and of course we were very happy”. Where is Julia? I could not find “Her” in the neatly arranged albums. Instead, I had to look back in time via hours and hours of digitally preserved dv-tape footage of me growing up. Behind the camera: my father. Fast-forwarding through the years of me teething, sleeping, dancing, and singing, I stumbled over a performance that stands out as a for Julia rare non-performance: It is my first dance recital. I am a snowflake. I am supposed to have a blast. My father holds the camera on me- trying to hold on to the fleeting moments of childish carefree-dom. 
But here I am, caring a lot, being very much concerned about many things: the hands of my dance partners (Oh no! Rejection.) and my teacher (he did not know my name) and of course that cotton-ball that does not let me dance carefree to the Ronettes. A piece of my costume- like a piece of myself falls down amidst the other snowflakes and snowmen jumping in joy. I forget the importance of performing in order to get that cotton imitation of a snow particle back to where it belongs. I desperately try to safe this perfectly assembled costume that was made by the very person who filmed this tragedy: my father. The feeling of guilt about the destruction of a costume echoes in an uncanny emotion that I associate with having grown up (especially after moving away from my family). I ruined your costume/ I am not the cute little Julia snowflake anymore.
Roland Barthes found in the photograph of his mother “the impossible science of the unique human being” (Barthes, 71), which is to some extent what I see in the image of the lost snowflake. This is Julia then- and this is Julia today, not just a miniature version of myself, but Julia: looking for an opportunity to shine, the hand to hold onto, and the many missing pieces- reduced to “what a cute video of your childhood, I wish my parents had filmed me”. In another video, another year and on the exciting occasion of a lost tooth, I ask whether I can take a look through the viewfinder myself, to which the voice behind the camera responds, “Darling, you won’t see much”. Little did that voice know how much I would “see” in these pixelated fragments of my childhood twenty years later, a film maker myself, and capable of reassembling my narrative.

References:
Sturken, Marita, and Lisa Cartwright. Practices of Looking: An Introduction to Visual
            Culture. Oxford ; New York: Oxford UP, 2001. Print.
Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. New York: Hill and
            Wang, 1981. Print.



[1]  For an interview with Christian Boltanski: http://bombsite.com/issues/26/articles/1148 and see http://epc.buffalo.edu/authors/perloff/boltanski.html for Marjorie Perloff's compelling comparison between Roland Barthes’ Winter Garden Photograph and Boltanski’s work.



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