PUBLISHED IN:
Photography After Photography.Exhibition catalog.
Germany, 1995.
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Lev Manovich
THE PARADOXES OF DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPHY
1. Digital Revolution?
Computerized design systems that flawlessly combine real
photographed objects and objects synthesized by the computer.
Satellites that can photograph the license plate of your car
and read the time on your watch. "Smart" weapons that
recognize and follow their targets in effortless pursuit --
the kind of new, post-modern, post-industrial dance to which
we were all exposed during the televised Gulf war. New
medical imaging technologies that map every organ and
function of the body. On-line electronic libraries that
enable any designer to acquire not only millions of
photographs digitally stored but also dozens of styles which
can be automatically applied by a computer to any image.
All of these and many other recently emerged
technologies of image-making, image manipulation, and vision
depend on digital computers. All of them, as a whole, allow
photographs to perform new, unprecedented, and still poorly
understood functions. All of them radically change what a
photograph is.
Indeed, digital photographs function in a entirely
different way from traditional -- lens and film based --
photographs. For instance, images are obtained and displayed
by sequential scanning; they exist as mathematical data which
can be displayed in a variety of modes -- sacrificing color,
spatial or temporal resolution. Image processing techniques
make us realize that any photograph contains more information
than can be seen with the human eye. Techniques of 3D
computer graphics make possible the synthesis of photo
realistic images -- yet, this realism is always partial,
since these techniques do not permit the synthesis of any
arbitrary scene.[1]
Digital photographs function in an entirely different
way from traditional photographs. Or do they? Shall we accept
that digital imaging represents a radical rupture with
photography? Is an image, mediated by computer and electronic
technology, radically different from an image obtained
through a photographic lens and embodied in film? If we
describe film-based images using such categories as depth of
field, zoom, a shot or montage, what categories should be
used to describe digital images? Shall the phenomenon of
digital imaging force us to rethink such fundamental concepts
as realism or representation?
In this essay I will refrain from taking an extreme
position of either fully accepting or fully denying the idea
of a digital imaging revolution. Rather, I will present the
logic of the digital image as paradoxical; radically
breaking with older modes of visual representation while at
the same time reinforcing these modes. I will demonstrate
this paradoxical logic by examining two questions: alleged
physical differences between digital and film-based
representation of photographs and the notion of realism in
computer generated synthetic photography.
The logic of the digital photograph is one of historical
continuity and discontinuity. The digital image tears apart
the net of semiotic codes, modes of display, and patterns of
spectatorship in modern visual culture -- and, at the same
time, weaves this net even stronger. The digital image
annihilates photography while solidifying, glorifying and
immortalizing the photographic. In short, this logic is that
of photography after photography.
2. Digital Photography Does Not Exist
It is easiest to see how digital (r)evolution solidifies
(rather than destroys) certain aspects of modern visual
culture -- the culture synonymous with the photographic image
-- by considering not photography itself but a related film-
based medium -- cinema. New digital technologies promise to
radically reconfigure the basic material components (lens,
camera, lighting, film) and the basic techniques (the
separation of production and post-production, special
effects, the use of human actors and non-human props) of the
cinematic apparatus as it has existed for decades. The film
camera is increasingly supplemented by the virtual camera of
computer graphics which is used to simulate sets and even
actors (as in "Terminator 2" and "Jurassic Park").
Traditional film editing and optical printing are being
replaced by digital editing and image processing which blur
the lines between production and post-production, between
shooting and editing.
At the same time, while the basic technology of film-
making is about to disappear being replaced by new digital
technologies, cinematic codes find new roles in the digital
visual culture. New forms of entertainment based on digital
media and even the basic interface between a human and a
computer are being increasingly modeled on the metaphors of
movie making and movie viewing. With Quicktime technology,
built into every Macintosh sold today, the user makes and
edits digital "movies" using software packages whose very
names (such as Director and Premiere) make a direct reference
to cinema. Computer games are also increasingly constructed
on the metaphor of a movie, featuring realistic sets and
characters, complex camera angles, dissolves, and other codes
of traditional filmmaking. Many new CD-ROM games go even
further, incorporating actual movie-like scenes with live
actors directed by well known Hollywood directors. Finally,
SIGGRAPH, the largest international conference on computer
graphics technology, offers a course entitled "Film Craft in
User Interface Design" based on the premise that "The rich
store of knowledge created in 90 years of filmmaking and
animation can contribute to the design of user interfaces of
multimedia, graphics applications, and even character
displays."[2]
Thus, film may soon disappear -- but not cinema. On the
contrary, with the disappearance of film due to digital
technology, cinema acquires a truly fetishistic status.
Classical cinema has turned into the priceless data bank, the
stock which is guaranteed never to lose its value as classic
films become the content of each new round of electronic and
digital distribution media -- first video cassette, then
laser disk, and, now, CD-ROM (major movie companies are
planning to release dozens of classic Hollywood films on CD-
ROM by the end of 1994). Even more fetishized is "film look"
itself -- the soft, grainy, and somewhat blurry appearance of
a photographic image which is so different from the harsh and
flat image of a video camera or the too clean, too perfect
image of computer graphics. The traditional photographic
image once represented the inhuman, devilish objectivity of
technological vision. Today, however, it looks so human, so
familiar, so domesticated -- in contrast to the alienating,
still unfamiliar appearance of a computer display with its
1280 by 1024 resolution, 32 bits per pixel, 16 million
colors, and so on. Regardless of what it signifies, any
photographic image also connotes memory and nostalgia,
nostalgia for modernity and the twentieth century, the era of
the pre-digital, pre-post-modern. Regardless of what it
represents, any photographic image today first of all
represents photography.
So while digital imaging promises to completely replace
the techniques of filmmaking, it at the same time finds new
roles and brings new value to the cinematic apparatus, the
classic films, and the photographic look. This is the first
paradox of digital imaging.
But surely, what digital imaging preserves and
propagates are only the cultural codes of film or
photography. Underneath, isn't there a fundamental physical
difference between film-based image and a digitally encoded
image?
The most systematic answer to this question can be found
in William Mitchell's recent book "The Reconfigured Eye:
Visual Truth in the Post-photographic Era."[3] Mitchell's
entire analysis of the digital imaging revolution revolves
around his claim that the difference between a digital image
and a photograph "is grounded in fundamental physical
characteristics that have logical and cultural
consequences."[4] In other words, the physical difference
between photographic and digital technology leads to the
difference in the logical status of film-based and digital
images and also to the difference in their cultural
perception.
How fundamental is this difference? If we limit
ourselves by focusing solely, as Mitchell does, on the
abstract principles of digital imaging, then the difference
between a digital and a photographic image appears enormous.
But if we consider concrete digital technologies and their
uses, the difference disappears. Digital photography simply
does not exist.
1. The first alleged difference concerns the relationship
between the original and the copy in analog and in digital
cultures. Mitchell writes: "The continuous spatial and
tonal variation of analog pictures is not exactly replicable,
so such images cannot be transmitted or copied without
degradation... But discrete states can be replicated
precisely, so a digital image that is a thousand generations
away from the original is indistinguishable in quality from
any one of its progenitors."[5] Therefore, in digital visual
culture, "an image file can be copied endlessly, and the copy
is distinguishable from the original by its date since there
is no loss of quality."[6] This is all true -- in principle.
However, in reality, there is actually much more degradation
and loss of information between copies of digital images than
between copies of traditional photographs. A single digital
image consists of millions of pixels. All of this data
requires considerable storage space in a computer; it also
takes a long time (in contrast to a text file) to transmit
over a network. Because of this, the current software and
hardware used to acquire, store, manipulate, and transmit
digital images uniformly rely on lossy compression -- the
technique of making image files smaller by deleting some
information.[7] The technique involves a compromise between
image quality and file size -- the smaller the size of a
compressed file, the more visible are the visual artifacts
introduced in deleting information. Depending on the level of
compression, these artifacts range from barely noticeable to
quite pronounced. At any rate, each time a compressed file is
saved, more information is lost, leading to more degradation.
One may argue that this situation is temporary and once
cheaper computer storage and faster networks become
commonplace, lossy compression will disappear. However, at
the moment, the trend is quite the reverse with lossy
compression becoming more and more the norm for representing
visual information. If a single digital image already
contains a lot of data, then this amount increases
dramatically if we want to produce and distribute moving
images in a digital form (one second of video, for instance,
consists of 30 still images). Digital television with its
hundreds of channels and video on-demand services, the
distribution of full-length films on CD-ROM or over Internet,
fully digital post-production of feature films -- all of
these developments will be made possible by newer compression
techniques.[8] So rather than being an aberration, a flaw in
the otherwise pure and perfect world of the digital, where
even a single bit of information is never lost, lossy
compression is increasingly becoming the very foundation of
digital visual culture. This is another paradox of digital
imaging -- while in theory digital technology entails the
flawless replication of data, its actual use in contemporary
society is characterized by the loss of data, degradation,
and noise; the noise which is even stronger than that of
traditional photography.
2. The second commonly cited difference between traditional
and digital photography concerns the amount of information
contained in an image. Mitchell sums it up as follows:
"There is an indefinite amount of information in a
continuous-tone photograph, so enlargement usually reveals
more detail but yields a fuzzier and grainier picture... A
digital image, on the other hand, has precisely limited
spatial and tonal resolution and contains a fixed amount of
information."[9] Here again Mitchell is right in principle: a
digital image consists of a finite number of pixels, each
having a distinct color or a tonal value, and this number
determines the amount of detail an image can represent. Yet
in reality this difference does not matter any more. Current
scanners, even consumer brands, can scan an image or an
object with very high resolution: 1200 or 2400 pixels per
inch is standard today. True, a digital image is still
comprised of a finite number of pixels, but at such
resolution it can record much finer detail than was ever
possible with traditional photography. This nullifies the
whole distinction between an "indefinite amount of
information in a continuous-tone photograph" and a fixed
amount of detail in a digital image. The more relevant
question is how much information in an image can be useful to
the viewer. Current technology has already reached the point
where a digital image can easily contain much more
information than anybody would ever want. This is yet another
paradox of digital imaging.
But even the pixel-based representation, which appears
to be the very essence of digital imaging, can no longer be
taken for granted. Recent computer graphics software have
bypassed the limitations of the traditional pixel grid which
limits the amount of information in an image because it has a
fixed resolution. Live Picture, an image editing program for
the Macintosh, converts a pixel-based image into a set of
equations. This allows the user to work with an image of
virtually unlimited size. Another paint program Matador makes
possible painting on a tiny image which may consist of just a
few pixels as though it were a high-resolution image (it
achieves this by breaking each pixel into a number of smaller
sub-pixels). In both programs, the pixel is no longer a
"final frontier"; as far as the user is concerned, it simply
does not exist .
3. Mitchell's third distinction concerns the inherent
mutability of a digital image. While he admits that there has
always been a tradition of impure, re-worked photography (he
refers to "Henry Peach Robinson's and Oscar G. Reijlander's
nineteenth century 'combination prints,' John Heartfield's
photomontages"[10] as well as numerous political photo fakes of
the twentieth century) Mitchell identifies straight,
unmanipulated photography as the essential, "normal"
photographic practice: "There is no doubt that extensive
reworking of photographic images to produce seamless
transformations and combinations is technically difficult,
time-consuming, and outside the mainstream of photographic
practice. When we look at photographs we presume, unless we
have some clear indications to the contrary, that they have
not been reworked."[11] This equation of "normal" photography
with straight photography allows Mitchell to claim that a
digital image is radically different because it is inherently
mutable: "the essential characteristic of digital
information is that it can be manipulated easily and very
rapidly by computer. It is simply a matter of substituting
new digits for old... Computational tools for transforming,
combining, altering, and analyzing images are as essential to
the digital artist as brushes and pigments to a painter."[12]
From this allegedly purely technological difference
between a photograph and a digital image, Mitchell deduces
differences in how the two are culturally perceived. Because
of the difficulty involved in manipulating them, photographs
"were comfortably regarded as causally generated truthful
reports about things in the real world."[13] Digital images,
being inherently (and so easily) mutable, call into question
"our ontological distinctions between the imaginary and the
real"[14] or between photographs and drawings. Furthermore, in
a digital image, the essential relationship between signifier
and signified is one of uncertainty.[15]
Does this hold? While Mitchell aims to deduce culture
from technology, it appears that he is actually doing the
reverse. In fact, he simply identifies the pictorial
tradition of realism with the essence of photographic
technology and the tradition of montage and collage with the
essence of digital imaging. Thus, the photographic work of
Robert Weston and Ansel Adams, nineteenth and twentieth
century realist painting, and the painting of the Italian
Renaissance become the essence of photography; while
Robinson's and Reijlander's photo composites, constructivist
montage, contemporary advertising imagery (based on
constructivist design), and Dutch seventeenth century
painting (with its montage-like emphasis on details over the
coherent whole) become the essence of digital imaging. In
other words, what Mitchell takes to be the essence of
photographic and digital imaging technology are two
traditions of visual culture. Both existed before
photography, and both span different visual technologies and
mediums. Just as its counterpart, the realistic tradition
extends beyond photography per se and at the same time
accounts for just one of many photographic practices.
If this is so, Mitchell's notion of "normal"
unmanipulated photography is problematic. Indeed,
unmanipulated "straight" photography can hardly be claimed to
dominate the modern uses of photography. Consider, for
instance, the following photographic practices. One is Soviet
photography of the Stalinist era. All published photographs
were not only staged but also retouched so heavily that they
can hardly be called photographs at all. These images were
not montages, as they maintained the unity of space and time,
and yet, having lost any trace of photographic grain due to
retouching, they existed somewhere between photography and
painting. More precisely, we can say that Stalinist visual
culture eliminated the very difference between a photograph
and a painting by producing photographs which looked like
paintings and paintings (I refer to Socialist Realism) which
looked like photographs. If this example can be written off
as an aberration of totalitarianism, consider another
photographic practice closer to home: the use of
photographic images in twentieth century advertising and
publicity design. This practice does not make any attempt to
claim that a photographic image is a witness testifying about
the unique event which took place in a distinct moment of
time (which is how, according to Mitchell, we normally read
photography). Instead, a photograph becomes just one graphic
element among many: few photographs coexist on a single
page; photographs are mixed with type; photographs are
separated from each by white space, backgrounds are erased
leaving only the figures, and so on. The end result being
that here, as well, the difference between a painting and a
photograph does not hold. A photograph as used in advertising
design does not point to a concrete event or a particular
object. It does not say, for example, "this hat was in this
room on May 12." Rather, it simply presents "a hat" or "a
beach" or "a television set" without any reference to time
and location.
Such examples question Mitchell's idea that digital
imaging destroys the innocence of straight photography by
making all photographs inherently mutable. Straight
photography has always represented just one tradition of
photography; it always coexisted with equally popular
traditions where a photographic image was openly manipulated
and was read as such. Equally, there never existed a single
dominant way of reading photography; depending on the context
the viewer could (and continue to) read photographs as
representations of concrete events, or as illustrations which
do not claim to correspond to events which have occurred.
Digital technology does not subvert "normal" photography
because "normal" photography never existed.
3. Real, All Too Real: Socialist Realism of "Jurassic Park"
I have considered some of the alleged physical differences
between traditional and digital photography. But what is a
digital photograph? My discussion has focused on the
distinction between a film-based representation of an image
versus its representation in a computer as a grid of pixels
having a fixed resolution and taking up a certain amount of
computer storage space. In short, I highlighted the issue of
analog versus digital representation of an image while
disregarding the procedure through which this image is
produced in the first place. However, if this procedure is
considered another meaning of digital photography emerges.
Rather than using the lens to focus the image of actual
reality on film and then digitizing the film image (or
directly using an array of electronic sensors) we can try to
construct three-dimensional reality inside a computer and
then take a picture of this reality using a virtual camera
also inside a computer. In other words, 3-D computer graphics
can also be thought off as digital -- or synthetic --
photography.
I will conclude by considering the current state of the
art of 3-D computer graphics. Here we will encounter the
final paradox of digital photography. Common opinion holds
that synthetic photographs generated by computer graphics are
not yet (or perhaps will never be) as precise in rendering
visual reality as images obtained through a photographic
lens. However, I will suggest that such synthetic photographs
are already more realistic than traditional photographs. In
fact, they are too real.
1. The achievement of realism is the main goal of research in
the 3-D computer graphics field. The field defines realism as
the ability to simulate any object in such a way that its
computer image is indistinguishable from its photograph. It
is this ability to simulate photographic images of real or
imagined objects which makes possible the use of 3-D computer
graphics in military and medical simulators, in television
commercials, in computer games, and, of course, in such
movies as "Terminator 2" or "Jurassic Park."
These last two movies, which contain the most
spectacular 3-D computer graphics scenes to date,
dramatically demonstrate that total synthetic realism seems
to be in sight. Yet, they also exemplify the triviality of
what at first may appear to be an outstanding technical
achievement -- the ability to fake visual reality. For what
is faked is, of course, not reality but photographic reality,
reality as seen by the camera lens. In other words, what
computer graphics has (almost) achieved is not realism, but
only photorealism -- the ability to fake not our perceptual
and bodily experience of reality but only its photographic
image.[16] This image exists outside of our consciousness, on a
screen -- a window of limited size which presents a still
imprint of a small part of outer reality, filtered through
the lens with its limited depth of field, filtered through
film's grain and its limited tonal range. It is only this
film-based image which computer graphics technology has
learned to simulate. And the reason we think that computer
graphics has succeeded in faking reality is that we, over the
course of the last hundred and fifty years, has come to
accept the image of photography and film as reality.
What is faked is only a film-based image. Once we came
to accept the photographic image as reality the way to its
future simulation was open. What remained were small details:
the development of digital computers (1940s) followed by a
perspective-generating algorithm (early 1960s), and then
working out how to make a simulated object solid with shadow,
reflection and texture (1970s), and finally simulating the
artifacts of the lens such as motion blur and depth of field
(1980s). So, while the distance from the first computer
graphics images circa 1960 to the synthetic dinosaurs of
"Jurassic Park" in the 1990s is tremendous, we should not be
too impressed. For, conceptually, photorealistic computer
graphics had already appeared with Fˇlix Nadar's photographs
in the 1840s and certainly with the first films of the
Lumi¸res in the 1890s. It is they who invented 3-D computer
graphics.
2. So the goal of computer graphics is not realism but only
photorealism. Has this photorealism been achieved? At the
time of this writing (May 1994) dinosaurs of "Jurassic Park"
represent the ultimate triumph of computer simulation, yet
this triumph took more than two years of work by dozens of
designers, animators, and programmers of Industrial Light and
Magic (ILM), probably the premier company specializing in the
production of computer animation for feature films in the
world today. Because a few seconds of computer animation
often requires months and months of work, only the huge
budget of a Hollywood blockbuster could pay for such
extensive and highly detailed computer generated scenes as
seen in "Jurassic Park." Most of the 3-D computer animation
produced today has a much lower degree of photorealism and
this photorealism is uneven, higher for some kinds of objects
and lower for others.[17] And even for ILM photorealistic
simulation of human beings, the ultimate goal of computer
animation, still remains impossible.
Typical images produced with 3-D computer graphics still
appear unnaturally clean, sharp, and geometric looking. Their
limitations especially stand out when juxtaposed with a
normal photograph. Thus one of the landmark achievements of
"Jurassic Park" was the seamless integration of film footage
of real scenes with computer simulated objects. To achieve
this integration, computer-generated images had to be
degraded; their perfection had to be diluted to match the
imperfection of film's graininess.
First, the animators needed to figure out the resolution
at which to render computer graphics elements. If the
resolution were too high, the computer image would have more
detail than the film image and its artificiality would become
apparent. Just as Medieval masters guarded their paiting
secrets now leading computer graphics companies carefully
guard the resolution of image they simulate.
Once computer-generated images are combined with film
images additional tricks are used to diminish their
perfection. With the help of special algorithms, the straight
edges of computer-generated objects are softened. Barely
visible noise is added to the overall image to blend computer
and film elements. Sometimes, as in the final battle between
the two protagonists in "Terminator 2," the scene is staged
in a particular location (a smoky factory in this example)
which justifies addition of smoke or fog to further blend the
film and synthetic elements together.
So, while we normally think that synthetic photographs
produced through computer graphics are inferior in comparison
to real photographs, in fact, they are too perfect. But
beyond that we can also say that paradoxically they are also
too real.
The synthetic image is free of the limitations of both
human and camera vision. It can have unlimited resolution and
an unlimited level of detail. It is free of the depth-of-
field effect, this inevitable consequence of the lens, so
everything is in focus. It is also free of grain -- the layer
of noise created by film stock and by human perception. Its
colors are more saturated and its sharp lines follow the
economy of geometry. From the point of view of human vision
it is hyperreal. And yet, it is completely realistic. It is
simply a result of a different, more perfect than human,
vision.
Whose vision is it? It is the vision of a cyborg or a
computer; a vision of Robocop and of an automatic missile. It
is a realistic representation of human vision in the future
when it will be augmented by computer graphics and cleansed
from noise. It is the vision of a digital grid. Synthetic
computer-generated image is not an inferior representation of
our reality, but a realistic representation of a different
reality.
By the same logic, we should not consider clean,
skinless, too flexible, and in the same time too jerky, human
figures in 3-D computer animation as unrealistic, as
imperfect approximation to the real thing -- our bodies. They
are perfectly realistic representation of a cyborg body yet
to come, of a world reduced to geometry, where efficient
representation via a geometric model becomes the basis of
reality. The synthetic image simply represents the future. In
other words, if a traditional photograph always points to the
past event, a synthetic photograph points to the future
event.
We are now in a position to characterize the aesthetics
of "Jurassic Park." This aesthetic is one of Soviet Socialist
Realism. Socialist Realism wanted to show the future in the
present by projecting the perfect world of future socialist
society on a visual reality familiar to the viewer --
streets, faces, and cities of the 1930s. In other words, it
had to retain enough of then everyday reality while showing
how that reality would look in the future when everyone's
body will be healthy and muscular, every street modern, every
face transformed by the spirituality of communist ideology.
Exactly the same happens in "Jurassic Park." It tries
to show the future of sight itself -- the perfect cyborg
vision free of noise and capable of grasping infinite details
-- vision exemplified by the original computer graphics
images before they were blended with film images. But just as
Socialist Realist paintings blended the perfect future with
the imperfect reality of the 1930s and never depicted this
future directly (there is not a single Socialist Realist work
of art set in the future), "Jurassic Park" blends the future
super-vision of computer graphics with the familiar vision of
film image. In "Jurassic Park," the computer image bends down
before the film image, its perfection is undermined by every
possible means and is also masked by the film's content.
This is then, the final paradox of digital photography.
Its images are not inferior to the visual realism of
traditional photography. They are perfectly real -- all too
real.
NOTES
1. Lev Manovich, "Assembling Reality: Myths of Computer
Graphics," AFTERIMAGE 20, no. 2 (September 1992): 12-
14.
2. SIGGRAPH 93. ADVANCE PROGRAM (ACM: New York, 1993),
28.
3. William Mitchell, THE RECONFIGURED EYE: VISUAL TRUTH
IN THE POST-PHOTOGRAPHIC ERA (Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT
Press, 1992).
4. Ibid., 4.
5. Ibid., 6.
6. Ibid., 49.
7. Currently the most widespread technique for
compressing digital photographs is JPEG. For instance,
every Macintosh comes with JPEG compression software.
8. For almost a century, our standard of visual fidelity
was determined by the film image. A video or television
image was always viewed as an imperfect, low quality
substitute for the "real thing" -- a film-based image.
Today, however, a new even lower quality image is
becoming increasingly popular -- an image of computer
multi-media. Its quality is exemplified by a typical, as
of this writing, Quicktime movie: 320 by 240 pixels, 10-
15 frames a second. Is the 35 mm film image going to
remain the unchallenged standard with computer
technology eventually duplicating its quality? Or will a
low quality computer image be gradually accepted by the
public as the new standard of visual truth?
9. Mitchell, THE RECONFIGURED EYE, 6.
10. Ibid., 7.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.
13. Ibid., 225.
14. Ibid.
15. Ibid., 17.
16. The research in virtual reality aims to go beyond
the screen image in order to simulate both the
perceptual and bodily experience of reality.
17. See Manovich, "Assembling Reality."