Nov 30

An Insoluble Problem

Written by George Batzanopoulos

We can imagine the awe of the first man admiring nature. Enchanted by the spectacle unfolding before him, he feels the need to contain it. And so, he conceives the camera.

This will give him the ability to halt the flow of time and appropriate the moment. In this way, he will express his love for nature. With each closing of the shutter, a facet of her becomes his own. The certainty offered by the permanence of each photograph reinforces his belief that he can subjugate nature. Complete control over her, the ultimate expression of his love.

Under the illusion of completeness given by photography, he becomes addicted to possession. Unable to assert himself over his primitive instincts, he imprisons his love in the cell of possession and condemns her to remain in the idealised form he first encountered her, preventing any transformation that characterises human emotion. As time passes, though his love appears externally unchanged, internally, it is dead. Drunk, he now seeks possession rather than the initial spectacle that moved him.

The first man could free himself from the above condition if he knew that the moment he falls in love, he also kills his love. Possession, as a natural manifestation of attraction, cannot be avoided. To preserve his initial awe, he must appease his primitive self. Moderating a spontaneous emotion will initially hurt him, but the controlled friction will not erode his enthusiasm, giving space again to the unknown. Curiosity about it will stimulate his wonder for nature, and with imagination, he will explore it like the first time.

Therefore, the first man is called upon to establish a middle ground. A middle ground between knowledge and ignorance. Enthusiasm and repression. Possession and freedom. His problem is insoluble. He is in a stalemate, facing a dilemma to which every answer is inadequate.