It occurred to me that actually the current situation is much simpler than maybe I'm taking it to be. Phones have simply replaced digicams, that's all—what were originally called digital point-and-shoots.
The biggest differences are a.) connectivity, and b.) penetration of the devices in the population. Just over a year ago, in April of '21, the Pew Research Center said, "The vast majority of Americans—97%—now own a cellphone of some kind. The share of Americans that own a smartphone is now 85%, up from just 35% in Pew Research Center’s first survey of smartphone ownership conducted in 2011." (I presume they're talking about adults. census.gov says that 6.4% of the US population is age five and under, and I doubt that half of that demographic own cellphones.) I haven't been able to find a seemingly-reliable estimate of the number of people who owned digital point-and-shoots at the peak of that device's popularity, but I doubt it was 35% of the population, much less 85%.
And this is a good thing for photography; it dramatically fulfills photography's historical promise as a visual medium for everyone. What it's possibly a bad thing for is photo culture, because it essentially blasts it away. No longer is there any sense of coherent trends, standout practitioners, or shared experience of the medium's accomplishments. Far from shared experience, there is no chance that any human has seen more than an infinitesimally small fraction of all the photos now being made.
However, it's possible that the photo culture that's becoming less relevant—as embodied in museum and gallery shows; photography in newspapers, periodicals, and books; critical appraisal; and well-known names whose work is familiar to some significant subset of the volitional audience, etc.—was never much more than an illusion anyway, as it could only pretend to comprehensiveness in the best of times. There was always a sort of constructed, willed feel to photography's culture—that is, that it was not so much something that was as something we wanted. I felt it even in my youth. Case in point: the willful assertion that there were "schools" and traceable threads of influence like there are in painting. At best, the verdict on that was "sort of." The Düsseldorf School, okay, although I always got a sense that it got a lot of the attention it got simply because it was defensibly a "school," to the relief of art critics; but the so-called New York School, for example, was at best a back-formation.
Maybe someday I'll try to claim that there's a "Camera-Pointing School" that encompasses all the totally meaningless test-shot-type digital images of absolutely nothing that the web is awash with. As a sly joke. (By the way, camera-pointing is not my term, but I don't think the guy I heard it from wants to be associated with it.) Not that parked motorcycles are such exalted subjects. And of course most photographers' work didn't sort itself into neat groupings like that. More like the opposite. I'm just thinking out loud here.
One thing's for sure, there's no Smartphone School of Photography. Although consider this: there is probably a huge body of the greatest work ever created in photography that's out there somewhere, if it could only be found and collected—but it can't be and never can be.
I always feel like I want to see everything. But of course I don't, do I?
Mike
Book o' the Week:
The Mindful Photographer by Sophie Howarth. I only know of Sophie Howarth from her time as a curator at the Tate Modern in London, but my impression then was positive. Her brand new book (it only came out a few days ago) is about slowing down as a means of enjoying photographing more. It's said to contain a curated collection of photographs along with anecdotes and explanation.
The book link is your portal to Amazon from TOP, should you wish to support this site.
Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
David Dyer-Bennet: "Science fiction fandom is experiencing something that seems similar to me; it used to be 'a proud and lonely thing' to be a fan, but now the majority of block-buster movies are in the science-fiction / fantasy genre; you can't get more mainstream than that. Which means the movies, and a lot of books too, are being made for mass-market tastes rather than the much more knowledgeable tastes of people already deeply into SF (as cameras or phone cameras are), and people aren't finding fandom as 'their home culture' so much any more (they find people who like SF everywhere). We can't seem to figure out anything to do about it either."
Speed: "Mike wrote, 'One thing's for sure, there's no Smartphone School of Photography.' But this being 2022 there is, of course, an iPhone Photography School. Online only of course."
TC: "The contrarian in me insists on noting, now that everyone is posting on social media every day, couldn't you say the same of writing? 'No longer is there any sense of coherent trends, standout practitioners, or shared experience of the medium's accomplishments. Far from shared experience, there is no chance that any human has seen more than an infinitesimally small fraction of all the words now being written.' Why would I want to buy a book or read an article when anyone can make a Facebook post?"
Mike replies: If you could see all the care that goes into a New Yorker article, that's all you'd want to read. Whew. It's awesome, and I use that word advisedly.
Dave Jenkins (partial comment): "I wrote about this in my blog two years ago. 'The subject of photography is not the subject of photography. At its basic level, photography is about pictures, not the tools and processes involved. (Although I'm a photographer, so I do love those tools and processes.) But in a way, those hordes taking pictures with their cell phone cameras have it right. They care nothing about the tools and techniques of photography; They’re only interested in getting a reasonably clear picture they can send to friends or family. They care about who or what they are photographing, not the act of photography itself. In other words, they are the direct descendants of all those who heard George Eastman's slogan "You push the button and we do the rest" and lined up to buy his pre-loaded, ready-to-shoot cameras.'
"Read more if you're interested at 'Cell Phone Cameras' and 'So, Why Not Just Shoot With Your Cell Phone?'"
Antony Shepherd: "Something I've often seen noted is that while on the one hand there are more photographs being taken than at any other time in human history, the vast majority are purely ephemeral files which exist so long as the server(s) they occupy exist. When the service closes down and the servers are destroyed their content will vanish with them. No chance of someone in the future coming across a hard drive of photos in a charity shop and being able to access them, the way people often make finds of old glass plates."
Zyni: "You say 'there is no chance that any human has seen more than an infinitesimally small fraction of all the photos now being made.' Well, this is why numeracy is important, though increasing rare. Let us say that there are 300 million Americans, but it is 1955 and they make one photograph per year, each. So if a person does nothing at all but look at photographs and they work 12 hours a day, every day, with no holidays or weekends, they would need to look at 300,000,000/(365 x 12 x 60 x 60) photographs per second to see all these. Which is about 20. Every second, 12 hours a day, every day. It is a very long time since any individual looked at more than a tiny fraction of the photographs being made. This is not an artifact of digital photography any more than counting the atoms in the Earth (about 10^50) is easier for a human than counting the atoms in the observable universe (about 10^80, so about 10^30 Earth's worth). Or even atoms in a grain of sand (perhaps 10^18). Or indeed the entire universe (we currently assume infinite). Beyond a certain point the limits of human capacity become so minute compared to things that it does not any more matter."
Mike replies: Hi Zyni. The population of the US was only 171 million in 1955, but I take your point. I still think it was quantifiably different, because in 1955 not everyone had a camera, not everyone who had a camera had a good camera, many people who had good cameras didn't really make pictures to speak of, and there was a more marked distinction between people who worked with thoughtfulness and intention and those who only made snapshots, because the practice and the craft made such a heavy demand in terms of time and dedication. There was a very high bar to be a serious photographer then—many photographers literally had to dedicate their lives to it, and very few people were willing to do that. And it was somewhat easier for those looking and appraising to believe that they were seeing or at least hearing about a meaningful subset of all those who were working persistently, meaning, over years. And it was difficult to accomplish anything if you didn't. A problem with your formulation, for instance, is that no one can make meaningful work taking one photograph a year, so only those people dedicating themselves to it really needed to be looked at at all. Instead of considering 300 million people and one photo each, we are starting with a subset of those who are willing to sacrifice a great part of their time and labor to the effort. It must have been a much, much smaller group.
Plus, there were far fewer ways for pictures to be public. Most of the images in your model would have been private then. Most of mine still are; but the public availability of formerly private pictures has certainly exploded in this century.
If a critic or curator thought he or she was aware of 5% or even 2% of the people in the country working as dedicated artists, they could be excused for thinking they had a finger on the pulse. But you help make my point that that was probably an illusion even then: the assumptions made by, for example, histories of photography, which listed major trends and major figures, and traced influences from one to to the next, were probably a bit too comfy and not truly justified.
But now no one even tries, I don't think. It's too obvious that it's hopeless.
I'm not an expert on this particular aspect of the subject, I will admit. And as for innumeracy: emphatically guilty!