Philip Larkin
[Poet and writer, b. 1922, Coventry, England, d. 1985, London.]

 It was your severed image that grew sweeter,
That floated, wing-stiff, focused in the sun
Along uncertainty and gales of shame
Blown out before I slept. Now you are one
I dare not think alive: only a name
That chimes occasionally, as a belief
Long since embedded in the static past. 

Dennis Grady
[lives in South Pomfret, Vermont.]

 Display of the captive before the camera lens, the condition Crazy Horse so ardently avoided, quickly became a ritual of power. The U.S. Cavalry photographically documented hundreds of captive Indians along their forced marches to penal colony reservations, and such images are commonplace in histories of the West. 

Siegfried Kracauer
[Media critic and sociologist, b. 1889, Frankfurt, Germany, d. 1966, New York.]

 The photograph annihilates the person. 

Secondo Pia
[Lawyer and amateur photographer, b. 1855, Asti, Italy, d. 1941, Milan.]

 Shut up in my darkroom all intent on my work, I experienced a very strong emotion when, during the development, I saw for the first time the Holy Face appear on the plate, with such clarity that I was dumbfounded by it. (On his 1898 photograph which highlighted the alleged face in what is known as “the Shroud of Turin.”) 

Roland Barthes
[Writer, critic, and theorist, b. 1915, Cherbourg, d. 1980, Paris.]

 In front of the lens, I am at the same time: the one I think I am, the one I want others to think I am, the one the photographer thinks I am, and the one he makes use of to exhibit his art. In other words, I am a strange action: I do not stop imitating myself, and because of this, each time I am (or let myself be) photographed, I invariably suffer from a sensation of inauthenticity, sometimes of imposture (comparable to certain nightmares). In terms of image-repertoire, the photograph (the one I intend) represents that very subtle moment when, to tell the truth, I am neither subject nor object but a subject who feels he is becoming an object: I then experience a micro-version of death (of parenthesis): I am truly becoming a specter. 

Francis Bacon
[Artist, b. 1909, Dublin, Ireland, d. 1992, Madrid, Spain.]

 Jesus would have been one of the best photographers that ever existed. He was always looking at the beauty of people’s souls. 

Cecil Beaton
[Photographer, b. 1904, London, d. 1980, Broad Chalke, Wiltshire, Great Britain.]

 [He stared into the camera] like some sort of an animal gazing from across the back of its sty. (On Winston Churchill) 

Christian Metz
[Writer and film theorist, b. 1931, Béziers, France, lives in France.]

 The person who has been photographed, not the total person, is dead, dead for having been seen. 
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