At a recent electronic music performance, English duo Rob Brown and Sean Booth, who perform as Autechreplunged Sydney’s City Recitation Hall into the darkness.
Before the show, I learned from ticket information that the set would be played in the dark. This information made me willingly close my eyes and fully immerse myself in the pure auditory experience.
However, I was not prepared for the lack of typical photo opportunities that include such events.
Capturing cultural events using smartphone snapshots has develop into almost instinctive. You can often see hundreds of individuals with their hands raised recording performances and sharing them on social media.
The phrase “photos or it didn’t happen” reflects the need to validate an experience by photographing it for sharing. However, in the context of the Autechre concert, this principle couldn’t be applied.
Like everyone else, I kept away from picking up my phone to capture a performance, stage, or light show just because there wasn’t one. There weren’t even any musicians in sight! The recital hall was lit only by the faint green glow of the emergency exit signs.
Autechre offered not only an auditory feast, but in addition a respite from one more experience via my phone. My need to photograph the whole lot was thwarted for an hour of sonic bliss.
Photography detox
This departure from a sensory, vision-centered experience was fascinating. We are sometimes absorbed in our screens, and once we are usually not, we witness others being absorbed in theirs.
This concert created a different social presence. By specializing in my own listening journey, I also tuned in to the people around me. I wondered if, without having to distract themselves from their smartphones, they felt a deep sense of relief that that they had nothing to photograph.
The Autechre experience was not like going to the cinema, where phones are silenced and we replace the small screen of our smartphones with a large cinema screen. There was no screen, no image – only sound.
It jogs my memory of a time earlier this 12 months when I decided to detox from photography. The detox lasted two months. My goal was to disconnect my phone and be more present in my life.
Kent Banes/Unsplash
A so-called photographer by occupation, it was a challenge. But on the other hand, we’re all photographers today. I think this is able to be a challenge for anyone, considering how deeply ingrained photography is in on a regular basis life and communication with others.
During detox, I noticed how the lack of photography affected me. This led me to quickly explore other types of creative expression, similar to writing lists and putting experiences into words. It was a precious experience, replacing one artistic outlet with one other.
The photographic detox also make clear the social elements of photography. As someone who actively shares photos on Instagram and sends them to friends day by day, I’ve realized that the lack of recent photos to share affects my sociability. I became quiet and withdrawn.
When my outgoing family was exchanging photos on WhatsApp, I began replying with emoticons quite than photos. The detox revealed how I use photography to communicate with others; how vital photography is to express my personality.
It wasn’t nearly taking photos to remember; it was an impulse – a reflex triggered by excitement, anxiety, boredom, or the need to connect.
Throughout the Autechre concert, I felt the same tremors when I wanted to reach for my phone.
Completely unphotographable
The late French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy studied how listening directs us inward while seeing directs us outward. In his 2007 essay Listening Nancy asks:
Why is it that in the case of the ear we’re coping with withdrawal and turning inward, creating, while in the case of the eye we’re coping with manifestation and display, creation?
This query resonates deeply with the concert experience. Autechre provided forced blackout and an hour to listen without having to “prove” that I was listening.
The lack of photos jogs my memory of Daniel Libeskind’s architectural provocation Emptiness Emptinessor the Holocaust Tower in the Jewish Museum Berlin. Visitors enter the tower in small groups, and the claustrophobic, irregularly shaped space is closed by heavy doors. Once inside, we were plunged into complete darkness, with only a sliver of sunshine seeping from the ceiling.
AP Photo/Markus Schreiber
In this concrete chamber, every sound was amplified, my heart beat louder and faster, and the sound of my shoes on the floor jogged my memory that I was alive. My camera was useless.
The Autechre concert summed up what the controlled absence of photography and visual stimuli provides. I was immersed in the complex sounds and literally felt the physical vibrations of the bass.
With nothing to see with my own eyes, I had nothing to photograph. The experience was like deep meditation. It made me realize that despite the lack of sociability I experienced during the photo detox, taking photos rarely takes me inside.
I may also admit that I was amongst those who feverishly photographed the previous act and the stage manager who stood under photogenic light and told us to go to the bathroom before the performance of Autechre.
I also saw people taking photos of a concert poster near the box office. How else were they supposed to prove where they were and what they saw? In the arts, creating visual content that’s photogenic and Instagrammable is the norm.
Autechre radically created a murals that was completely ephemeral and completely unphotographable.
