Glossary Entry 4/3

Map: Wood and Fels refer to maps as “historically contingent sign systems” (1992). Maps work because they selectively represent interests from the past, and these interests are rhetorically bound and concentrated in class, gender, occupation, etc. [KP]

Wood, D., & Fels, J. (1992). The power of maps. Guilford Press.

Standpoint: In class, we differentiated perspective and standpoint. Perspective can be considered physically–it is an act of looking, an ocular operation. Standpoint, on the other hand, is formed by identity. Our standpoint is so innate to who we are that it is pre-cognitive. Barthes would find that standpoint lends itself to punctum, because punctum draws on our unique identities.

Barthes, R. (1981). Camera lucida: Reflections on photography. Macmillan.

Stop-Write 1

“A photograph’s punctum is that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me)” (Barthes 27).

Working with this definition, for you, what is the punctum of this photograph, if any? Studium?

Glossary Term – Image

Image: A modern understanding of this term points to a material/visual representation, which depicts something–a photograph or sign for example. Lynda Barry uses image to refer to “something which feels somehow alive, has no fixed meaning and is contained and transported by something that is not alive (15).” This definition is closer the the Latin imaginem, which may refer to a “phantom” or “ghost.” The object that performs this in Latin use is imago, referring to an insect that has reached its final form. Can we think of image as the sad person who smiles at a stranger in order to depict a state of happiness? Barry uses the example of a child’s blanket which is an image of safety. Safety has life, has no fixed meaning as we all experience it differently, and is contained in the blanket. This usage comes close to the idea of punctum

Big Idea: Barthes & Sontag

Whether it is because of a memory or an oddity, the punctum is what stands out to the spectator creating an element of recognition. The photographs show pieces of experiences that can be altered (Sontag 2); however, the photographs do not show what is not in the picture, like Barthes remembering fragments of his mother’s movements, but not the rest of the movement or the moment in time (65-66). Neutrality is not a trait of photography as Barthes decries the lack of it in his own body (12); neutrality contradicts punctum.

Brooke Notes: Camera Lucida


Barthes, R. 1980. Camera Lucida. New York, New York: Hill and Wang.


In an effort to discover what photography was “in itself,” French philosopher and critic wrote Camera Lucida in 1980 (3). Although not a photographer himself, Barthes was fascinated by photography, particularly in contrast to other medias like film.

In Part I, Barthes goes on a personal journey; he delves into the ontology of photography, seeking a phenomenological self-understanding. Barthes identifies the three persons (or things) interacting with a photograph: the operator, or the photographer, the spectator, or ourselves as audience, and the spectrum, or the object being photographed. From there, Barthes maps the relations between the three roles. Barthes notes how the operator must intrude upon the spectrum: “they turn me, ferociously, into an object, they put me at their mercy, at their disposal” (14). Honing on his phenomenological response to a photo (“an internal agitation, an excitement, a certain labor too”), Barthes denotes the boundary between a spectator’s studium and punctum. Barthes constitutes studium as “a kind of general, enthusiastic commitment, but without special acuity” (26). In contrast, punctum refers to the “element which rises from the scene, shoots out like an arrow, and pierces me” ; demanding attention, the punctum interrupts the studium (26). In sum, photographs are subjectively meaningless until they “animate” the spectator and spark punctum within her (20).

In Part II, Barthes, noting pleasure to be “an imperfect mediator,” leaves a part of himself aside in an attempt to discover the eidios of photography (60). When viewing a personally meaningful image of his deceased mother, the Winter Garden Photograph, Barthes discovers “something like an essence” of photography (73). From there, Barthes derives the nature of photography from “the only photograph which assuredly existed for me, and to take it somehow as a guide for my last investigation” (73).

Barthes notes the codependence of the photograph and its referent, or spectrum. Photography “can never deny the thing that has been there,” and that the spectrum’s necessary presence is not metaphoric, but rather “the living image of a dead thing” (76, 79). Throughout Camera Lucida, Barthes darkly makes reference to the presence of Death (and concurrently, History) in photography. Barthes even concludes that “Death is the eidos of the photograph” (15).

Interestingly, all intextual photos in Camera Lucida have human spectrum. In order to spark punctum in Barthes, humans must be the subjects, the objects, the spectrum; they are his punctum. “Air,” as Barthes describes, is “that exboriant thing which induces from body to soul–animula, little individual soul, good in one person, bad in another” (109). Humans throughout Time and History ground Barthes’ philosophy of photography.

Barthes warns the reader of society’s concern “to tame the Photograph,” to extricate punctum (117). Barthes instead encourages the reader to pursue “the strictly revulsive moment which reverses the course of the thing, and which I shall call, in conclusion, the photographic ecstasy” (119).


“This fatality (no photograph without something or someone) involves Photography in the vast disorder of objects–of all the objects in the world: why choose (why photograph) this object, this moment, rather than some other? Photography is unclassifiable because there is no reason to mark this or that of its occurrences” (6).

“Most [photographs] provoke only a general and, so to speak, polite interest: they have no punctum in them: they please or displease me without pricking me: they are invested with no more than studium. The studium is that very wide field of unconcerned desire, of various interests, of inconsequential task […] the studium is the order of liking, not of loving […] to recognize the studium is inevitably to encounter the photographer’s intentions, to enter into harmony with them, to approve or disapprove of them, but always to understand them, to argue them within myself, for culture (from which the studium derives) is a contract arrived at between creators and consumers. This studium […] allows me to discover the Operator, to experience the intentions which establish and animate his practices” (27-28).

“I had to conceive […] how Photography’s Referent is not the same as a referent of other systems of representation. I call ‘photographic referent’ not the optionally real thing to which an image or a sign refers but the necessarily real thing which has been placed before the lens, without which there would be no photograph […] Photography can never deny the thing that has been there” (76).

“The photograph possesses an evidential force, and that its testimony bears not on the object but on time” (89).

“It [photography] is a denatured theater where death cannot be “contemplated,” reflected and interiorized; or again: the dead theater of Death, the foreclosure of the Tragic, excludes all purification, all catharsis” (90).

“Society is concerned to tame the Photograph, to temper the madness which keeps threatening to explode in the face of whoever looks at it. To do this, it possesses two means. The first consists of making Photography into an art, for no art is mad […] the other means of taming photography is to generalize, to gregarize, banalize it until it is no longer confronted by any image in relation to which it can mark itself, assert its special character, its scandal, its madness […] This is what is happening in our society, where the Photograph crushes all other images by its tyranny: no more prints, no more figurative painting, unless henceforth by fascinated (and fascinating) submission to the photographic model […] one of the marks of our world is perhaps this reversal: we live according to a generalized image-reperoitore. Consider the United States, where everything is transformed into images: only images exist and are produced and consumed […] when generalized, it (the Photograph) completely de-realizes the human world of conflicts and desires, under cover of illustrating it” (119).


  1. Can non-human spectrum spark punctum?
  2. What does punctum feel like in you?
  3. How would Barthes react to photos on social media (like Instagram)?
  4. Why camera lucida? What not camera obscura?

Big Ideas

Because photographs are static images, the viewer of the photograph has the ability to study the image for an unrestricted period of time, allowing him the opportunity to experience both the punctum and studium of the photograph in ways he would not be able to with moving picture films (Barthes 26). The photograph captures and reproduces time and allows society to understand culture and time in ways that were previously impossible (Sontag 13). [LW]

Glossary Terms (1/23)

Studium: Barthes defines studium as the general effect or interest a photograph leaves on its spectator – “a kind of general enthusiastic commitment… but without special acuity” (Barthes, 26). It often supplies some form of context, be it political, cultural, historical, or the like. Barthes claims the studium displays the photographer’s intentions. [js]

Punctum: Barthes defines punctum as an element of a photograph that “breaks,” or punctures, the studium – “a detail i.e., a partial object” (Barthes, 43). The punctum has an expansive quality, evoking the spectator to add something of her/his own imagination to the photograph. It may be an item of clothing, or a particular expression, or some other part of a photograph – either way, it is not coded like the studium and is not an intentional aspect. [js]

Reading Question: Barthes (1/23)

Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. Translated by Richard Howard, New York, Hill and Wang, 1980, p. 56.

Examining this photograph, Barthes argues that Queen Victoria sitting regally on the horse is the studium because it is the “historical interest” that draws in the viewer and leaves a general impression of liking or disliking the photograph (57). He also argues that the Scotsman holding the bridle is the punctum because this detail “‘brings out’ the Victorian nature,” though this nature is not named (57).

I’ve struggled with these two terms–studium and punctum–throughout Camera Lucida because I am unsure of their origins. The way Barthes identifies the elements of the photograph above seems to imply that studium and punctum simply exist, and have been captured by the photographer. Studium and punctum are supplied and/or created by the photograph itself. Other excerpts from the book seem to support this argument.

Yet, I can’t help but think that studium and punctum are much more subjective than Barthes is articulating and illustrating here. For instance, if someone could not place the woman on the horse in her historical context, he might not be drawn into the photograph, or if he focused on other detail than the holding of the horse’s bridle, the photograph’s punctum would be different. Earlier in Camera Lucida, Barthes even mentions that he interprets photographs with his studium (28), which suggests that viewers, or spectators, are the ones that bring studium and punctum to a given photo. These two concepts are created through an individual viewing and interpretation of a photograph.

With these two conflicting interpretations, I’m left with the following question (that I had throughout the entire first part of Camera Lucida): Where are studium and punctum located in the photo-viewing interaction? I.e. Who/what creates a photograph’s studium and punctum?