Here is a slide of a cat. This image, this cat,
probably long dead and separated from us by the gaping jaws of history, always
seemed to speak to me. ‘Meow’, it said from its unknown past, and
yet at first I couldn’t tell why, aside from the fact that this would be
the noise a cat would make. It is not a very interesting cat it has to be said,
merely a cat. A cat in September 1961 somewhere in America strolling through a
garden being photographed by, we assume, its owner. On the catwalk if you will.
However, a few things about this slide always
intrigued me. To display the slide so the text is readable the cat must be
upside down (the text being that way in order to make it easy to see the
orientation when feeding it into the slide projector in the dark, one assumes).
Once viewed in this bizarre and unfamiliar way the image changes; the cat
prowls across a grass lined ceiling, tail hanging down, both funny and
unsettling. This is coupled with the text itself, the solitary words
‘pussy cat’. It struck me that this was a particularly strange
thing to write on a slide for if this were indeed your cat would you not write
on it the name of the cat itself? Would it not read ‘Fluffy’ or
‘Mrs. Tiddles’ or some other such name?
And if it were not your cat why on earth would
you take a photo of it in the first place? If it were a test or to finish off
the end of a film you would surely discard it or at least forget about it, but
I doubt you would label it. If it were taken because you were a cat lover and
you thought that this was a fine example of a cat, you would more than likely
have its breed or some other information attaining to it, not merely
‘pussy cat’. It is labelled as if it is a reminder; a note to those
operating the projector to make sure he or she doesn’t forget what it is
when they must introduce the slide, as if they were perhaps unfamiliar with the
concept of a cat.
It is for these reasons that this slide, this
perfect jewel, shines so brightly. Perhaps through all my collecting and
hoarding, this was what I was after, the culmination of the search. If I could
keep only one thing, this would be it. If all the slides in the world formed a
labyrinth ‘I knew at the centre I would find nothing but this sole
picture’ , this slide of a cat labelled ‘pussy cat’. Ok, so
maybe that’s a bit overly dramatic, after all in this quote Barthes is
actually discussing a photograph of his dead mother and not a found slide of a
stranger’s cat but it’s not too far off the mark. It is complete;
it is for me the ‘Uber-slide’, perfect in its every drop of
serendipity and punctum.
07725 084 531
www.lukedrozd.com
lukedrozd@hotmail.com
Here is a slide of a cat. This image, this cat, probably long dead and separated from us by the gaping jaws of history, always seemed to speak to me. ‘Meow’, it said from its unknown past, and yet at first I couldn’t tell why, aside from the fact that this would be the noise a cat would make. It is not a very interesting cat it has to be said, merely a cat. A cat in September 1961 somewhere in America strolling through a garden being photographed by, we assume, its owner. On the catwalk if you will.
However, a few things about this slide always intrigued me. To display the slide so the text is readable the cat must be upside down (the text being that way in order to make it easy to see the orientation when feeding it into the slide projector in the dark, one assumes). Once viewed in this bizarre and unfamiliar way the image changes; the cat prowls across a grass lined ceiling, tail hanging down, both funny and unsettling. This is coupled with the text itself, the solitary words ‘pussy cat’. It struck me that this was a particularly strange thing to write on a slide for if this were indeed your cat would you not write on it the name of the cat itself? Would it not read ‘Fluffy’ or ‘Mrs. Tiddles’ or some other such name?
And if it were not your cat why on earth would you take a photo of it in the first place? If it were a test or to finish off the end of a film you would surely discard it or at least forget about it, but I doubt you would label it. If it were taken because you were a cat lover and you thought that this was a fine example of a cat, you would more than likely have its breed or some other information attaining to it, not merely ‘pussy cat’. It is labelled as if it is a reminder; a note to those operating the projector to make sure he or she doesn’t forget what it is when they must introduce the slide, as if they were perhaps unfamiliar with the concept of a cat.
It is for these reasons that this slide, this perfect jewel, shines so brightly. Perhaps through all my collecting and hoarding, this was what I was after, the culmination of the search. If I could keep only one thing, this would be it. If all the slides in the world formed a labyrinth ‘I knew at the centre I would find nothing but this sole picture’ , this slide of a cat labelled ‘pussy cat’. Ok, so maybe that’s a bit overly dramatic, after all in this quote Barthes is actually discussing a photograph of his dead mother and not a found slide of a stranger’s cat but it’s not too far off the mark. It is complete; it is for me the ‘Uber-slide’, perfect in its every drop of serendipity and punctum.