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hole" (stenope) through which he looks, limits, frames, and perspcctivizes w hen hc wants to "takc" (to surprise). Tcchnically, Photography is at the intersection of two quitc distinct procedures; one of a chcmical order: the action of lighr on ccrtain substances; the othcr of a physi-cal order: the formation of the image through an optical device. It seemed ro mc chat the Spectators Photograph dcsccnded csscncially, so to speak, from the chcmical rev-elation of the object (from which I receivc, by deferred action, the rays), and that the Operator s Photograph, on the contrary, was linkcd to the vision framed by the kcy-hole of the camera obscura. But of thar cmotion (or of that esscnce) I could not speak, ncvcr having cxpcrienccd it; I could not join the troupe of those (the majority) who deal with Photography-according-to-thc-Photographcr. I possessed only two expcriencc$: that of the observed sub-ject and thar of the subjcct observing ...

Ic can happen that I am observed withour know-ing it, and again I cannot speak of this expericnce, sińce I havc determined to be guided by the con-sciousness of my fcclings. But vcry often (too often, to my taste) 1 havc bcen photographed and knew it. Now, oncc

I feel mysclf observcd by the lens, cverything changcs: I conscimre myself in the process of "posing," 1 instanta-neously make another body for myself, I transform myself in advance into an image. This transformation is an aaivc

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one: I feel rhat the Photograph crcaces my body or morti-fics it, according to its capricc (apology of this mortifer-ous power: ccrtain Communards paid with their livcs for their wiilingncss or evcn their eagerness to pose on the barricades: defcated, they were rccognized by Thiers’s po lice and shot, almost every one).

Posing in front of the lens (I mean: knowing I am posing, even flectingly), I do not risk so much as that (at least, not for the moment). No doubt it is metaphorically thac I dcrive my existcncc from the photographer. But though this dcpendcnce is an imaginary one (and from che purest image-repertojre), I cxpcrience it with the an-guish of an uncertain filiation: an image—my image— will be generated: will I be born from an antipathetic individual or from a "good sort”? lf only I could "come out” on paper as on a classical canvas, endowed with a noble cxpres$ion—thoughtful, intclligcnt, etc.! In short, if I could be “painted" (by Titian) or drawn (by Clouct)! But sińce what I want co have captured is a dclicace morał texture and not a mimiery, and sińce Photography is any-thing but subtle cxccpt in the hands of the very greatesr portraitists, I don’t know how to work upon my skin from w-ithin. I dccidc to “ler drift" over my lips and in my cyes a faint smile whith I mean to be "indefinable," in which I might suggest, along with the cjualities of my naturę, my amuscd consciousness of the wholc photographic ritual: I lend myself to the soda! gamę, I pose, I know I am posing, I want you to know that I am posing, but (to scjuarc the circle) this additional message must in no way alcer the precious esscnce of my individuality: what I am,

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