It’s tempting to try to divine from Roland Barthes’ ‘Camera Lucida’ the secret that will enable you to become a better photographer but such was not Barthes’ occupation nor preoccupation; he simply sought to define photography. Nevertheless, the photographs he favours all contain a detail that pricks his interest, which he terms the ‘punctum’; were a photographer ever to happen upon such a detail that pricked his or her own interest and photograph it, it would be the ‘studium’ of Barthes; that arousal of the photographer that his or her picture telegraphs – its raison d’etre. Once it is positioned in the centre of the frame or features in any other compositional idea its attractiveness wanes for Barthes; it is not giving him the thrill of the chase, or discovery.

It is tempting to believe, then, that one could ensure his or her photograph held a punctum by editing for it, rather than attempting to photograph it. But this too is to miss the punctum’s essence; it is an ‘eye of the beholder’ concern. Show me a good photographer, Barthes, and I will show you a lucky photographer; not so for having pressed the shutter at exactly the right moment or for having it play out in front of the camera, for you still have to get out of bed in the morning for that kind of luck – a misnomer, but lucky to have found his or her audience.

Reading:
‘Camera Lucida’ by Roland Barthes