Matter of Time: “My Bangladesh” Photo Series (8)

“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”  (Kurt Vonnegut)

4/5 sec. f. 22 10mm ISO 100

Old Dhaka, Dhaka, 17 February 2020

The representation of reality through art had its beginning with the invention of perspective, which is documented by the architect Leon Battista Alberti in “De Pictura” (1434-1436). It's no coincidence that the Renaissance began in that period and started a new phase of humanity. 

Perspective then, in the paintings, and later in photography, was the way of giving depth, and therefore a third dimension, to the two-dimensional surfaces that are the canvases and the photographs. 

Photography uses every type of stratagem, such as natural frames, diagonal lines, different planes that are lost in the distance, to try to keep faith with its destiny since its birth: to be a faithful representation of reality. 

But this is an utopia. 

As the journalist and photography scholar Michele Smargiassi, said in the title of his book: photography is and will always be “an authentic lie.” 

“By its very nature, photography can only lie,” begins his book.

But this is a too complex subject to deal with now.

Looking at this photo, it makes me think that in the images there is one thing missing: a fundamental element of life. The time.  And it could not be otherwise, since photography is just extrapolating an instant from the temporal flow of time to embalm it, as I wrote about butterflies in the laboratory.

Even painting and sculpture, with “Futurism”, tried to represent time with finite forms. Umberto Boccioni's sculpture “Unique forms of continuity in space” from 1913 is famous for this.

When you are in Dhaka, the first thing that strikes you is the traffic and the incredible number of rickshaws, CNGs and motorcycles that move around you. It's a strange feeling, because maybe you are sitting for hours on a rickshaw and you see this colorful and noisy flow that moves with you, in every direction.

As I said to my friend who was always with me, after a week you start not to notice the sound of the horns anymore, which becomes the dominant note of your every day: it's incessant. After a while, you just oblivious of it.

So, all those hours sitting are actually a waste of time, which results in a lost track of time. It seems to be precisely crystallized in an eternal present, if it weren't for the other rickshaw that move and make you breathe a sigh of relief. Yes, you stuck in the sluggish traffic, but time still passes!

But how can this be understood with photography? How to show this to those who see our images, perhaps sitting comfortably in their room, and who has never been one of these Asian megacities that all experience the same traffic problem?

I tried to photograph the traffic in every way when I was there, but always from my point of view, at street level. It was still a “spatial” photograph; it made it clear how many cars and buses and rickshaws were present at the time. But the idea of time was missing, the temporal dimension that moves continuously but at the same time clogged, suffocated, congested.

Difficult and frustrating.

Then, one morning, wandering around my beloved Old Dhaka, I found myself in this truly chaotic crossroads. I realized that the buildings that faced the street had several floors and terraces, so you could try to look out from one of them. The vision from above was what I missed, or rather, I had already photographed the busy streets, but from the bridges that cross them, so in the end they were only busy streets in one direction and the other.

Dhaka, 13 February 2020

But this was a crossroads, much more interesting.

And in fact, as soon as I looked out from the first floor, I realized that it was as I had imagined. Then on, up to the third and last floor: perfect view, dominating all three streets that converged in the center and a vision from Dante's infernal circle. A continuous flow of colors and sounds.

I changed my lens, with compulsory passage at 10mm wide angle. The photo was interesting, but that third element was always missing, besides the element of depth, or time.

And then I thought it's true, I rarely take experimental photos. Maybe this was the case for playing with the shutter speed.

I always photograph only in Manual mode. I don't know any other way, since my beginnings, since I went out every day to practice photography, alone. Throwing away hundreds of wrong, moved, burnt photos. Then, slowly, one improves and then shooting becomes like breathing, and I only breathe manually.

But if I want to shoot in Time mode, there is no other choice. With Time, I have to work: I reduce the ISO to the minimum, close the aperture, and lengthen the shutter speed as much as possible. Now it's not the light that you want to enter inside you, but the time.

And Time takes time, so the shutter is slow. It's a fraction of a second, but it is really very long, between the moment of the finger pressing the button and the shutter click that closes everything.

It's in that moment of suspension that everything is entering you: every rickshaw, cars, horns, colors, dust. And it's a strange feeling because you can't see anything: the eye in the viewfinder sees nothing, and you must also hold your breath; hold the camera as firmly as possible, without a tripod, because even the slightest breath can make the camera vibrate and ruin the shot.

Then I open my eyes, look at the photo and see what I have been looking for.

Yes, here it is. Time has entered photography. It flows, it's fluid, filamentous, dirty and dusty. That's life.

And it's not a post-production trick. No.

It's simply a request made to your camera: let me see the time.

Among the comments to this photograph, one of them from a woman who had been to Dhaka: “I hear the sounds of rickshaw!” This is the confirmation that the photo has arrived where it supposed to go.

This is my Dhaka.

1/25 sec. f14. 10mm. ISO 250. Old Dhaka, Dhaka, 17 February 2020

Michele Smargiassi: “Un'autentica bugia – La fotografia, il vero, il falso” (Contrasto, 2015)

Italian version