Skirting the Boundaries of Metaphotography

By Kathryn McGuire

I first started consciously thinking about self-referentiality when I was doing a photoshoot of my dad when we were out eating at a restaurant [fig. 10]. I decided to take a series of pictures throughout our meal, as I wanted to capture a story, with each shot being a different aspect of what eating at a cafe or a restaurant may look like (ordering, eating, paying etc). I kept the same framing, and at first, I thought the lack of colour would render my Dad less vibrant, but all it did was force the viewer to observe the forms, shapes and objects more carefully in order to form an opinion on the physicality of the photograph itself; rather than merely looking at the colours and instantaneously figuring out what it is without truly grasping its formal structure.

On the other hand, it seems important to note that the geometric and inconsistent lines within the photograph create a disorderly and unbalanced feeling for the viewer. In fact, when looking at the background of this photograph, a feeling develops of almost an exaggerated visual of trying to choose something off the menu when everything offered looks just as good as the last - spending ages trying to figure out which option will be the best. I believe that my Dad looking over the camera, to me, makes the viewer acknowledge that there is actually somebody behind the camera lens and not just a static object of contemplation. These photos did not just occur arbitrarily, the man in the images did not set up a camera and take photographs of himself eating. Instead, the viewer is invited to imagine a conversation that may have taken place beforehand, as well as the guidelines that the photographer—in this case, myself—gave him, in order to take a “better” shot. Otherwise said, this may make the viewer acknowledge that this is not one person's photoshoot or artwork but is the work of two people, a conscious collaboration between the subject and the photographer. Additionally, the intimacy of the setting makes it seem as if the viewers are intruding on a personal, private moment, therefore rendering them conscious of the creative process that precedes its existence.

After this photoshoot, I started to use and develop this concept in my work more deliberately, even if it was just linking it to my work after the fact [fig. 11]. This is particularly important to me, as it allows me to look outside of my work, to the audience, and actively remind myself why I am creating my art. For instance, I have made it somewhat of a habit to include myself in my photographs, linking myself visually to my thoughts and emotions [fig. 12, 13].

I came across the photograph “Nine Polaroid Photographs of a Mirror” by William Anastasi [fig. 14] whilst conducting my research and delving deeper into what constitutes self-referentiality, at large. What drew me to it over the myriad of other photographs was the optical illusion it presented me with, as I had to almost unpick what I was seeing to understand it. To make it, Anastasi stood upright in front of a mirror and every time he took a photo, he stuck it on his reflection in the mirror, therefore making the photos appear more and more crowded as he went on, the last photograph being the one in question. When looking at it, one is dumbfounded by the amount of detail that can be found in each and every rectangle that it is easy to stare at it ad infinitum. In fact, the way the piece is constructed forced me to think further about its significance, why the artist has created it, and what the audience is supposed to take away from it. One way to interpret this photographic marvel is that Anastasi’s gradual obstruction of the mirror using itself is akin to explaining to a mirror what it is or what it resembles, an impossible task for something that does not have knowledge of its own physiognomy. In fact, the mirror will only begin to understand its appearance being reflective

I think that Anastasi may have created this piece to prompt the audience to look further into their surroundings in life, rather than just accepting things as they are at face value, as Anastasi took what once was an accurate and true depiction of reality, and was able to twist it into an endless maze of repetition, the perceptual gap between the thing itself and what is depicted completely eradicated as a result.

13. Kathryn McGuire, “Autoportrait II,” 2022.

14. William Anastasi, “Nine Polaroid Photographs of a Mirror”, 1967, black and white instant print.