"Born in 1953 in Paris, Sophie Calle is a writer,
a conceptual artist, a photographer, a movie director or even detective.
She might be a little of each, according to the characters that she
interprets, the rituals she imagines, the parts of her life that she
tells and the feelings that she shares. The artist often explores the
investigations methods and her work , most of the time, consists in the
association between photography and text. Sophie Calle creates her own game rules, in order to "Make life better",
to give life a structure. For her first project in 1979 she decides to
follow a stranger, and this chase brings her to Venice. " Suite
Venitienne" is the result of this shadow. For most of her works it is only in a second part that she leads them
into the art sphere. Her installations are the conclusion and the effect
of situations which are entirely staged by the artist and lived in an
autobiographic way. "
source: BIO
The discussion we had in class about voyeurism led me to rethink of Sophie Calle. When I applied to the program at SCAD I had her work very much in mind as one of my greatest influences. Interestingly, since then, I have not produced any work that resembles anything that Sophie Calle has ever done and I haven't been looking at her work either. So I thought it would be interesting to go back to her work now and remind myself what I love about it so much. It didn't take long for me to reconnect and remember. It was/is the blending of autobiographical writing with photography. I have always had a fascination with "real" life. This is why I wrote my master's thesis on journal writing and self-growth and why I wrote my dissertation on the personal writings of 20th century authors. Does the interest in these subjects make me a voyeur? Absolutely. But I am more interested in seeing into people's minds, into understanding their emotions then anything else. I'm not so interested in what they're eating, who they are speaking with, what they look like naked, etc.
I think that because I am a shy person it was easier for me to take these texts to the back corner of a library, immerse myself in these intimate writings in order to unveil and understand a person, than it is to pick up a camera and follow someone around. But sometimes you can't have access to texts. Some people don't write and some keep their journals well locked away (like me). I have one regret as far as this is concerned...one missed opportunity for an interesting photographic project (maybe I will go back to it one day). When I lived in Paris I would go to the same restaurant about three times a week at the same time of the day. It is a cafeteria (similar to Piccadilly) and open all day (restaurants in France often close between meals). I went there because between 3:00-4:30 there would always be "les fous" (the crazies) eating their lunch. I assumed that the cafeteria was giving them the left-overs for free and that's why they were always there at the same time. Most of them were homeless...some with suitcases or bags, some with shopping bags full of their belongings. They were not together, did not sit together, but were all there at the same time eating. Some looked absolutely normal until they started suddenly having conversations with the non-existent lunch mate across the table; long, detailed conversations. I was fascinated. I was kind of obsessed actually. Sometimes they would speak to me and the conversation was basic...normal...and then they would turn around and keep talking to an invisible person. I really began to love these people. I recognized them from week to week and occasionally spotted them on the street in the same neighborhood. To me, these people were the most interesting people of Paris. These people had a sense of humor. They were kind. They were human. They were, in some cases, handsome. And, they were all men. Surprisingly this became a pleasure for me...my personal moment, disconnected from the rest of the world. Sometimes I questioned why I was so interested...maybe I'm crazy...because I started to feel that their conversations weren't that weird. If I were alone in the world, I would probably start doing that too...I'd probably just invent a friend and talk to him/her. But I think I found it beautiful that these people were simply existing, making sense of their world in this big, chaotic city where friendliness is not a pastime. Now as I look back I think I should have taken pictures. I should have striked up more conversations, I should have followed them out of the restaurant (then it probably wouldn't have seemed so beautiful anymore). How many times have I wanted to photograph something and didn't have the audacity to pick up my camera and do it? Too many times.
The fact that Calle was/is able to bring together both a passion for photography and literature is what I found profoundly moving and inspiring about her work. Half of my life had been focused on writing and literature and now the focus is on photography and imagery. When she was asked in an
interview
why she took up the camera in the first place she said that it had to
do with pleasing her father. He was an art collector with a particular
interest in conceptual art and she wanted to seduce him. This spoke to me as well. I began to write as a way to connect with my father. Most of my life, we wrote letters back and forth. He was an avid writer...I admired him infinitely and wanted him to admire me as well. My father always knew of my passion for photography and my resistance to it as a serious profession for practical reasons (he was more in line with following your passion). He listened to me agonize over doing what I love versus doing what will get me a job, but he never suggested one over the other (letting his child learn on her own, I guess). I finished my dissertation 3 months after he died and closed the door on that life, deciding to finally do what my father probably knew I would eventually do...follow my passion. Unfortunately, the last letter was written years ago, but I know what his response would be..."finally".
So...remembering Sophie Calle was a good thing for me.
________________________________________________________________
