Victorian Visual Culture

After reading several of Conan Doyle’s short stories I’ve noticed an intriguing connection between several stories that share not only  an element of disguise, but more specifically the use of the mask. In both The Yellow Face and The Man with the Twisted Lip the mystery is solved through a discovery of false identity, a discovery initiated by the ripping away of a mask from a face.

With all of our discussions involving portraiture and the way paintings and photos both seek to conceal and reveal, it is no surprise that Conan Doyle uses a similar technique in the role of the mask.

The mask in The Yellow Face and The Man with the Twisted Lip provokes a mystery of two personalities maintained by one single character. Doyle seems fascinated by this idea of “double identity” and the unreliability of one’s ability to simply see and interpret. With Doyle we can no longer simply rely on Watson or Holmes’ ability to recognize another character for who they really are—no—there is the swift action of the ripping off of the mask, the peeling away of the layers in order to see the truth nakedly.

Holmes reveals the identity of Mrs. Munro's hidden daughter

Holmes rips away the mask revealing the true identity of the beggar Boone

The role of the mask in these stories reminds me quite a bit of the mysteries that are played out in Dickens’ Bleak House. For example with the portrait of Lady Dedlock (a woman with what one could call a “dual identity”) the painting shows only one side of her, her role as a dutiful and lovely wife to Sir Leicester. However, this painting is simply a mask, it reveals easily and covers almost completely any links to her past life. This link however is discovered by Mr. Guppy and later Detective Bucket through peeling away the layers of her past and eventually ripping away the mask–revealing her affair with Mr. Nemo and the resulting child.

It seems to me as though Victorian Visual Culture is truly obsessed in part with these notions of concealment and of truth-discovery. Photos and portraiture and masks are all interesting complications and lenses through which to interpret this obsession and I am looking forward to finishing up a few more of Holme’s adventures.

As a previous poster informed us, Stephen Fry is set to star in the sequel to Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes.

On his twitter account this morning, Mr. Fry tweeted: “Talking of Holmes: do show your support for campaign to save Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s house from development” with a link to this website:

http://www.saveundershaw.com/

The opening page of the website explains that Undershaw was the home of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and was where he wrote The Hound of the Baskervilles’ and ‘The Return of Sherlock Holmes’.

Unfortunately, today the home is abandoned and vandalized, and may be demolished. Please visit the website to read about and view images of the home. There is also a facebook group you can join:

The Undershaw Preservation Trust

Also, under the Support page, you can read Stephen Fry’s support for the campaign in full, which concludes with a passionate plea:

“As Patron of the Conan Doyle library, as a former youngest member of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, as an admirer of Doyle and his achievements I urge Waverley Borough Council to reconsider what future ages will adjudge a foolish short-sighted and wanton act of vandalism. There is real value in Undershaw. If it is thought about, it can attract new generations of tourists to the area, it can be an enormous source of local pride. Please, please, have another think.”

(source)

Again, please visit the site, there are a few short videos of the home, and join the facebook group! This is truly a historical landmark that needs to be preserved.

The Tagg chapters repeatedly made me think of the UK’s controversial CCTV (Closed Circuit Television) network, and I am interested to hear how the rest of you view the “CCTV phenomenon.”

I was first introduced to the heated topic of CCTV when I went to Manchester, England in July 2009. One of my first nights there, over dinner with students from Spain, Poland, Japan, and India, the subject arose; one of the guys said that he loved Manchester but hated how pervasive CCTV was—cameras were not only in stores but also throughout our dorms, making students uncomfortable that cameras were recording how late they returned in the evenings, with whom, and, in some cases, who went into whose rooms. Some students complained that they felt uneasy having cameras on buses and reported having read articles that proved that many cameras were not even accurate enough to be able to be of much use in identifying criminals. One student said that the use of CCTV was his biggest qualm with the UK, which made me (a) think of Orwell’s 1984 and (b) eager to learn more about CCTV usage in the UK. Reading Tagg renewed this interest of mine, and I thought some of the info might be relevant enough to be of interest to others, too.

According to the Information Commissioner’s Office, “The UK is recognised as a leading user of CCTV and the public are used to seeing CCTV cameras on virtually every high street.  Such systems continue to enjoy general public support but they do involve intrusion into the lives of ordinary people as they go about their day to day business and can raise wider privacy concerns.” (http://www.ico.gov.uk/for_organisations/topic_specific_guides/cctv.aspx)

A BBC newswriter gives telling statistics about just how prevalent CCTV cameras are in the UK (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/8158942.stm)
•    “Both the Shetland Islands Council (101) and Corby Borough Council (90) – among the smallest local authorities in the UK – have more CCTV cameras than the San Francisco Police Department (71).
•    Eight British cities have more CCTV cameras than the authorities in Paris.
•    The London borough of Wandsworth has as many CCTV cameras (1,113) as Dublin City Council, the Police departments of Johannesburg and Boston and the City of Sydney authority combined.”

The same article also offered quotes providing justification for the use of CCTVs:
•    James Cousins from Wandsworth Council defended the widespread use of CCTVs. He said: “Residents actually like CCTV, its makes them feel safe, it makes them feel secure….We’re not doing this because we want to watch people; we’re not doing it because we think watching people is the solution to all the problems…We’re doing it because we think it’s a great tool to actually make Wandsworth a safer place.”
as well as highlighted the problems with CCTVs and advice for future measures:
•    ” Det Ch Insp Mick Neville of the Met police’s CCTV unit said most forces do not have systems to retrieve, process and distribute CCTV crime scene images. Officers in some London boroughs are failing to solve any tier one and two crimes such as serious assaults and robberies using CCTV, he added….“What I would say,” he continued, “is we’ve got enough cameras, let’s stop now, we don’t want any more cameras…Let’s invest that money that’s available and use it for the training of people, and the processes to make sure whatever we’ve captured is effectively used.”

Of further interest: BBC One’s Crimewatch, where viewers watch CCTV video recordings and help locate criminals. Click on the right panel, and you can sort cases by type and location: http://www.bbc.co.uk/crimewatch/appeals/cctv.shtml

Google will bring up ample websites and blogs lobbying against CCTV cameras. One of the more significant ones is http://www.no-cctv.org.uk/default.asp
(On a side note, one of my favorite images from this site is from Placa George Orwell in Barcelona. The photo is captioned “The Catalonian authorities clearly haven’t read 1984.” http://www.no-cctv.org.uk/images/Placa_George_Orwell_1.jpg)
This site links to another WordPress blog that summarizes one of the main arguments against CCTV:
“With over 4.2 million CCTV cameras across the country, there is no doubt about it: Britain is a surveillance society. And the great achievement of a surveillance society is instilling a sense of ‘being watched’ on its subjects so they ‘normalise’ their own behaviour in an act of self-policing. But if ‘normal’ is only the type of behaviour that obeys the rules and laws of those who watch society, who watches them?” (http://cctvtreasurehunt.wordpress.com/)

A fairly recent New Statesman article provides some interesting information on CCTV usage (http://www.newstatesman.com/ideas/2010/05/surveillance-film-cctv-camera)
“The central mystery that remains is why the UK embraced surveillance culture far more enthusiastically than other countries, turning us into perhaps the most watched nation on earth. J G Ballard’s novella Running Wild (1988) suggested that this obsession with security was indicative of a deep malaise, which had its counterpoint in an emerging feral state – something that was captured in the surveillance images that recorded the abduction of the toddler James Bulger in 1993.
But another movement was being recorded: the drift into blankness. With everything rev­ving towards instant communication, the cameras showed how little could still happen, with only the stamped-on time code proving that you weren’t just looking at a photograph of an empty car park. These new recorders showed consumption and boredom in equal measure, to which, it could be argued, the only conclusion was the invitation to terror.
… As important was Northern Ireland, for which much of the technology had been developed in the first place (such as the ANPR vehicle-check system, still in use in London). A huge boost in funding followed the IRA Docklands bombing in 1996. A year later, there were more than 167 town-centre surveillance schemes (using over 5,000 cameras); there had been just three in 1990. By 1998, CCTV accounted for more than three-quarters of total crime prevention spending (around £8.5m that year) and, over the next five years, the Home Office made a further £170m available. But in February 2005, an academic paper commissioned by the Home Office found that CCTV was not an effective deterrent to crime, nor did it make the public feel safer.”

Of less “newsy” interest:

(a) What children in the US and UK have to say about CCTVs in schools:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/cbbcnews/hi/newsid_7600000/newsid_7609000/7609087.stm

(b) The Tate Modern’s current exhibition “Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the Camera.” Its “blurb”: “The UK is now the most surveyed country in the world. We have an obsession with voyeurism, privacy laws, freedom of media, and surveillance – images captured and relayed on camera phones, YouTube or reality TV.” (http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/exposure/default.shtm)
More info in the exhibition: http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/exposure/theme5.shtm

Esther’s insecurity becomes more pronounced after her illness when she realizes that her features have become so changed that Charley has removed all of the mirrors from her room and the adjoining room. Although Esther does not at first seem to care much that she looks different and even says to Charley, “It matters very little, Charley. I hope I can do without my old face very well”, she soon begins to dwell on the matter (Dickens 498). Esther’s contemplation of Ada’s reaction especially confirms that she is concerned about how much her looks have changed. “I hope it was not a poor thing in me to wish to be a little more used to my altered self before I met the eyes of the dear girl I long so ardently to see, but it is the truth” (Dickens 501). Esther’s fear of seeing Ada might stem from the notion that Ada is always portrayed as being a beautiful young woman, whereas Esther has never been known for her beauty, but rather her kindness. Esther cannot even bear to see Ada’s own face when she states, “Yet I never saw her, for I had not as yet the courage to look at the dear face, though I could have done so easily without her seeing me” (Dickens 503). Esther might feel that seeing Ada’s beautiful face would make her feel worse about her own altered appearance. Esther seems to fear Ada’s reaction to her changed looks the most. Esther’s lack of confidence also increases when she imagines Mr. Woodcourt’s response to her changed appearance. “What should I have suffered if I had to write to him and tell him that the poor face he had known as mine was quite gone from me and that I freely released him from his bondage to one whom he had never seen!” (Dickens 509). Although she is nervous to see her guardian, she knows that he would never shun her for her appearance. Esther even seems comforted by her guardian’s reaction and says to herself, “‘He has seen me, and he loves me better than he did; he has seen me and is even fonder of me than he was before; and what have I to mourn for!’” (Dickens 498). Even though Esther is well loved by many people, she still worries whether everyone will still love her when she appears so altered.

I was thinking a lot about the transition between the reflection and the photograph. The eye functions as a reflection. The reflection created in a mirror or otherwise reflective surface has become how one knows one self. It becomes a projection of self, and a defining element in a sense of identity. More and more in the contemporary landscape the reflection seems to be replaced by the photograph. Memory and identity of yourself or others is now intertwined in the overwhelming amount of photographs available of everyone and anything. The challenge of knowing your own reflection is being threatened by a less forgiving form of permanence. The individual eye, self-reflection, is becoming null and void. The best part is, it was never really important how you saw your self in regards to other people. Take Ester’s narrative, her constant self-deprecation undermines her voice and all the while her character believes this is the only way to be truthful. It is the photograph’s honesty that makes it a true villain. I believe that reality is ultimately relative but a photograph stops fluidity of memory and truth.

Whenever I think about photography I usually get to thinking about this one Diane Arbus photograph

Diane Arbus is known as a champion of the freaks, but she nothing but a manipulator. When you see the negative sheet you realize he was just a playful little boy, she turns his identity into something more sinister. Arbus made a living selling the grotesque. All photography honors the absurd in its clarity. It is an insult to the eye.

People are too trustful of photographs. The mystery and impermanence of the reflection is better friend to memory.

I’d like to mention the double narration of Bleak House: while Esther is our ever modest first person narrator, responsible for relaying details concerning the home and the interpersonal relationships of the main characters, there is an additional, third person narrator, who relays to us any information that isn’t within Esther’s realm of experience.

The impersonal narrator is omniscient, providing the reader with sweeping views of London, with glimpses into high society and the inner workings of the law and of British politics.  This juxtaposition of Esther’s quintessential female narration and the broader, more masculine tone of the third person narrator is quite interesting.  While we become intimate with Esther’s character, the other narrator is never given a name, a story, or a context – clearly they are not intended as a character.  However, this is not to say that the omniscient narrator is without opinion – quite the opposite.  While dealing with the political and social spheres, this narrator repeatedly relays facts in a biased manner, which gives rise to a question I have been asking for a few hundred pages now: who is the other narrator?  Clearly they are not an entity which the reader is to be concerned about, but I am curious nonetheless as to where their tone, their opinions and their knowledge of the plot is from.  Is the perspective of the narrator Dickens’ own?  Is it the author’s voice that we hear slipping through in this impersonal third person?  Deliberately or just by accident? It is interesting to me that Dickens chose to double up the narration in this way – why not simply stick with the third person?  Why have Esther’s voice there at all?

I don’t have an answer, but I think it’s something worth considering.  Dickens’ portrayal of women is notoriously simple, and I found Esther to be lovable, certainly, but yes, simple as well.  Her modesty becomes tiresome after a while, and her goodness seems contrived at times.  I do love her dearly by the end of the book, but why did Dickens choose to let her voice be the voice that shapes the story when all the while he has another, more knowledgable narrator in the wings?  What does Esther’s narration add to the work as a whole?  I am curious to hear what you think.

During the first class we saw a photo of a prisoner, one who was to be executed and more than likely was.  I could not get that image out of my head since then, because I was constantly thinking about the idea of ownership.  Viewing that photo, the subject claimed the attention of the viewer, not necessarily to make a statement, but rather to capture the moment and more than likely to keep a record of who has been executed in this particular jail; a very useful tool.

Even with portraiture, the question of ownership persists because even though the artist is paid to paint an individual(s), families, etcetera, does he still not technically own the image? How does he not own it because 1 he labored to create it, even if for pay, 2 it is his image/representation of what he sees in front of him, and 3 the more than likely promise of not reproducing the image without the consent of the payer/subject? There honestly is nothing stopping the painter in creating reproductions (besides hurting his reputation). Or does the person who pays for the portrait/image own it simply because he has a monetary investment?; “to ‘have one’s portrait done’ was one of the symbolic acts by which individuals from the rising social classes made their ascent visible to themselves and other and classed themselves among those who enjoyed social status” (Tagg, 36-7).  What makes the monetary investment, along with the social status ascent, more important than the creative/artistic component of portraiture? Why shouldn’t the painter receive just as much ownership as the individual paying/posing for it?

Back to photography for a moment though.  Photos are easier to reproduce than paintings, so even the photographer has the ability to reproduce an image without the consent of the subject.  Therefore, what stops the photographer from reproducing countless amounts of the image after the subject has already paid for what s/he wanted? Who has the ownership of the photograph? The photographer because he labored in taking the photo and then developing it, or does the subject have the right to claim it as their own simply because it is a photo of him/her and had paid for it to be taken?

Today, some of these questions have been resolved, in that no individual who has their photos taken professionally (at least) can have their photo distributed without the subject’s consent.  However, it still makes me question, how did this come about? Did society as a whole decide to create this kind of ‘rule’ or was it at the demand of one disgruntled customer long ago?

I’d like to comment briefly on the final chapter of Bleak House. While I am pleased that things finally end well for Esther, I find it at least mildly frustrating that the lives of most of the characters can be wrapped up so succinctly in the final pages of a novel that is, in all, 900 pages long.

As I said, I’m happy for Esther, but I’m troubled that Ada’s happiness with her son has brought to Esther “a new sense of the goodness and the tenderness of God” at the close of all the horrible things she has seen and experienced otherwise. It seemed that a single, happy event all but washed away two or more decades of strife. Personally, I feel that this last chapter is a bit of a cop-out for what has otherwise been a very dense and very difficult novel. For instance, Jarndyce and Jarndyce has finally concluded (yay), but it has taken so long that there is no money left for Ada and Richard (boo). With the ending of the court case, Richard and Ada can start their lives anew and raise a child together (yay), but then Richard dies (boo). These are two extremely limited examples from the near-end of the novel, but they demonstrate that there seems to be a balance of the positive and negative throughout the story. And that does make sense, as so often, real life is just that way. Which makes it all the more strange that this little circle of folks we have come to know should end up blissfully happy in the final pages, minus the “bad mother” figure of Mrs. Jellyby, who was both unhappy with Caddy’s marriage and made to move on to another cause. As we discussed in class, Dickens seems to be making the case for motherhood and mothering, whether one has a child of her own or not, and he does this in part by showing how inadequate Mrs. Jellyby is for her own children because she has taken up this other cause. The best mothers, it seems, are those who are mothers before they are anything else, and they are the ones who receive the happiest endings at the novel’s close.

I’m all for happy endings and tying up the loose ends, but for a novel as heavy and foggy (literally, thinking back to the first page of the book) as Bleak House, the ending came about rather suddenly and was a bit to cheery considering the tone of most of the preceding chapters. I’m not sure if that betrays the rest of the work, it just seems an odd choice for a book so jam-packed with grief from beginning to near-end.

This post doesn’t pertain to Dickens and needn’t count towards my ten posts, as it is an entirely random tidbit that I found in my reading for a French class and thought seemed relevant to our discussion of gender and photography.

In “Manet’s Olympia: The Figuration of Scandal” (Poetics Today, 10.2 (www.jstor.org/stable/1773024–interestingly enough, he also cites Benjamin and Mulvey), Charles Bernheimer writes:

“Abigail Solomon-Godeau’s (1986)…analysis of the many photographs the countess Castiglione had taken of herself in the 1850s and 1860s, and again at the end of her life in the 1890s, is particularly instructive in this context, since these photographs represent a rare example of a nineteenth-century woman constructing images of herself for her own gaze. Solomon-Godeau comes to the conclusion that this famous beauty, who took an active part in choreographing her poses, could see herself only as an object of the male look. Her desire for self-representation is identified entirely with male desire for the sexualized object.” (275)

After running a quick google search, I realized that many of these photographs were familiar to me, although I was unfamiliar with the context in which they were taken. For me, they seemed all the more striking after our discussion about Browning and Dickens and questions of who controls the gaze, who commissions the portrait, who chooses the setting for a photo, etc.

Here are just a few of the photos:

Of further interest, the MET provides further information and photos from an exhibition:

“Considered the most beautiful woman of her time, the Countess de Castiglione was a special agent for the cause of Italian unification, the mistress of Napoleon III, and a mysterious recluse notorious for her numerous love affairs. She collaborated with photographer Pierre-Louis Pierson to chronicle her natural beauty, extravagant couture, public appearances, and private fantasies. This selection of more than ninety photographs, many of which were elaborately painted under her direction, tells an extraordinary tale of narcissism and delusion—and of a surprisingly innovative approach to photography.” (http://www.metmuseum.org/special/se_event.asp?OccurrenceId={A238C1C1-B848-11D3-936D-00902786BF44})