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Photograph Quotes

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Photograph Quotes

“The artistic creation of the poet, painter, photographer, and writer is a reflection of the artist’s inner world. The agenda of consciousness that spurs all forms of art is not to represent the outward appearance of things, but to portray its inward significance to the creator. A great poem, painting, photograph, and written composition fully express what the creator feels, in the deepest sense, about the distinctively depicted image that captured their imagination.”

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Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“I stare past her at the inspirational kitten posters. There's one of a soaking-wet kitten climbing out of a toilet with the caption "it could be worse!" "Just tell me whatever it is you're thinking," Mrs. Paulsen says. "Whatever is going through your mind right now." "I hope they didn't actually drop a cat in the toilet to get that picture," I choke out. "...Pardon?" "Nothing. Sorry.”

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Book:The World Without Us
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“The photograph, then, becomes a representation of a representation of a disease that represents. In other words, in order to produce the most perfect images of hysteria, the hysteric – a woman whose illness simulates the symptoms of other diseases – was transformed, through hypnosis, into an artificial hysteric who perfectly simulated the simulations of hysteria. The medical photograph becomes a copy of a copy of a copy, a representation so far removed from the original that all duplicitous traits, were easily erased, leaving the deranged and chaotic nature of the original far behind. The photograph succeeded in turning the hysteric into a wholly artificial being, literally a flat, framed, unmoving image.”

WomenPhotographHysteriaImageHysterics
Book:The Decadent Reader: Fiction, Fantasy, and Perversion from Fin-de-Siècle France
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“The task of a philosophy of photography is to reflect upon this possibility of freedom - and thus its significance - in a world dominated by apparatuses; to reflect upon the way in which, despite everything, it is possible for human beings to give significance to their lives in the face of the chance necessity of death. Such a philosophy is necessary because it is the only form of revolution left open to us.”

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Book:Towards a Philosophy of Photography
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“I found a photo of Mom standing between Mick and Dad, who were both wearing basketball uniforms. Mom was perfectly groomed, of course, and looking very ladylike. I said I must have been adopted. Ma-ma-oo laughed and said that when Mom was a little girl, she was always doing things like tying two cookie sheets to her shoes and attempting to ski because she'd seen one of her movie star idols in a magazine, elegantly poised on the slopes of Switzerland. Mom flew down the hill, hit a bump and crashed into a bush. She broke her leg and earned the nickname "Crash.”

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Book:Monkey Beach
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“We weren’t happy together but we lived in a state of easy, mild contentment. We shared everything except the stupid fucking secret hanging round your neck. I imagined tiny photographs: portraits in sepia of your parents, their faces partially obscured by goitres. Meanwhile, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, maybe not even in a decade from now but one day: the planet would fall apart.”

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Book:We Rose Up Slowly
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“I used to be lost in us. Blurred were the lines that separated us. But now, I see our togetherness in our separateness. I see the you in me and the me in you. We are two independent beings who complement one another like photographs that are beautiful on their own but are enhanced when juxtaposed, creating an altogether new photograph.”

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Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“I liked watching them, all three of them around my truck. I wanted time to stop because everything seemed so simple, Dante and Legs falling in love with each other, Dante's mom and dad remembering something about their youth as they examined my truck, and me, the proud owner. I had something of value– even if it was just a truck that brought out a sweet nostalgia in people. It was as if my eyes were a camera and I was photographing the moment, knowing that I would keep that photograph forever.”

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Book:Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe
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“The New York sidewalk led us along a little corner park rimmed with yellow-orange and violet pansies that seemed to be smiling, their faces upturned, and past a bagel shop that smelled of sesame and salt, delicious warm air. We passed an empty wine bar with a pink chandelier, whimsical and dim inside, and a neighborhood diner with its blue neon sign huge and lit up, little white line-cook hats—the city seemed in my vision like a multifaceted gem, spectacular. I wished I could keep everything I witnessed like a photograph, to forever hold this electric aliveness. The colors of the flowers and the clothing were crisp and rosy, hyper-bright against the subdued sun-drenched pigments of the streets and the brick buildings, all seeming faded, softer than real. Pops of coral and red—a scarf, a lady’s lips—were pops of life.”

PhotographNew York CityFlowersDeliciousSidewalkPansiesGemParkDinerChandelier
Book:Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir
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“There was something more, something difficult to articulate. The woman in the photograph was illuminated: it was that face, of course, with its beautiful features and the enlivened expression, but it was the styling of the image, too. The long, unfussy hair, the romantic dress, loose and earthy, but also alluring where it caught her waist, where a sleeve had been pushed up her arm to reveal sunlit skin. Elodie could almost feel the warm breeze coming off the river to brush against the woman's face, to lift her hair and heat the white cotton of her dress. And yet, that was her mind playing tricks, for there was no river in the picture. It was the freedom of the photograph she was responding to, its atmosphere.”

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Book:The Clockmaker's Daughter
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“The photograph of Ibrahim, Eric Mason and Eric's grandson was in a special file Ibrahim kept at home. A file filled with mementos, not too many, all reminding Ibrahim why he loved his job. The file is the only one on Ibrahim's shelves that isn't kept in strict alphabetical order. Because sometimes you had to remember that life wasn't always arranged in alphabetical order, however much you would like it to be.”

LifePhotographRichard OsmanMementosIbrahimAlphabetical
Book:The Man Who Died Twice
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“I thought about the word 'profile' and what a weird double meaning it had. We say we're looking at a person's profile online, or say a newspaper is writing a profile on someone, and we assume it's the whole them we're seeing. But when a photographer takes a picture of a profile, you're only seeing half the face... It's never the way you would remember seeing them. You never remember someone 'in profile.' You remember them looking you in the eye, or talking to you. You remember an image that the subject could never see in a mirror, because you are the mirror. A profile, photographically, is perpendicular to the person you know.”

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Book:Every You, Every Me
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“It was a delicate silver frame, small enough to fit within her hand, containing a photograph of a woman. She was young, with long hair, light but not blond, half of which was wound into a loose knot on the top of her head; her gaze was direct, her chin slightly lifted, her cheekbones high. Her lips were set in an attitude of intelligent engagement, perhaps even defiance. Elodie felt a familiar stirring of anticipation as she took in the sepia tones, the promise of a life awaiting rediscovery. The woman's dress was looser than might be expected for the period. White fabric draped over her shoulders, and the neckline fell in a V. The sleeves were sheer and billowed, and had been pushed to the elbow on one arm. Her wrist was slender, the hand on her hip accentuating the indentation of her waist. The treatment was as unusual as the subject, for the woman wasn't posed inside on a settee or against a scenic curtain, as one might expect in a Victorian portrait. She was outside, surrounded by dense greenery, a setting that spoke of movement and life. The light was diffuse, the effect intoxicating.”

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Book:The Clockmaker's Daughter
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“Our photographs are our best proof to others that we lived the things we lived in the past!”

PhotographyMehmet Murat Ildan QuotesPhotographerPhotographProofTurkish LiteratureTurkish QuotesTurkish WritersMehmet Murat Ildan QuotationsOur PastIldan Wise SayingsTurkish Wisdom WordsTurkish PlaywrightsTurkish QuotationsTurkish AuthorsIldan WisdomIldan WordsPhotography QuotesPhotographsPhotography CaptionsPhotographer QuotesPhotography Memory ImmortalityProofsLiving PastPhotograp
Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
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“What do we feel when we look at a good photograph? We just want to be there, right at the exact moment that photo taken!”

PhotographyMehmet Murat Ildan QuotesPhotographerPhotographTurkish LiteratureTurkish QuotesTurkish WritersMehmet Murat Ildan QuotationsIldan Wise SayingsTurkish Wisdom WordsTurkish PlaywrightsTurkish QuotationsTurkish AuthorsIldan WisdomIldan WordsTurkish AphorismsTurkish SayingsTurkish ThinkersPhotography QuotesPhotography CaptionsPhotography QuotePhotographer Quotes
Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
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“În spatele fiecărei fotografii, în afară de plăcere și bucurie, se află teama, teama de timpul care trece, de vremelnicia lui, teama de a vedea și apoi de a nu mai vedea, de a trăi și apoi de a nu mai trăi, de a fi trăit fără să lași vreo urmă doveditoare, vreo amintire tangibilă; în spatele fiecărei fotografii se află teama de a muri și dovada morții noastre.”

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Book:Il ne vous reste qu'une photo à prendre
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“There, there, best to bring it all up,' she said. My memory was in shreds. Imagine a photograph cut into narrow strips then jumbled up. Everything is there, but you can't see the whole picture and even the strips have no bearing on reality. I did know I had consumed a large amount of alcohol. But I must have done something crazier than just being found drunk to have a nurse sitting by my bed. I thought it would be a good idea to say something and planned it for several seconds. 'She's all right,' I said. 'Who is?' asked the nurse. 'Alice. I'm all right now.' As I spoke I wondered if I had said something wrong. didn't sound like me. There were so many voices muttering in the background it was hard to tell.”

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Book:Today I'm Alice: Nine Personalities, One Tortured Mind
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“A drawing of a tree shows not a tree, but a tree being looked at. From each glance, a drawing assembles a little evidence. But it consists of many glances, seen together. If one accepts the metaphor of time as a flow, a river, then the act of drawing—by driving upstream—achieves the stationary. A photograph is static because it has stopped time. A drawing is static because it encompasses time.”

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Author:John Berger
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