By Corey Fields
On social media, posts always get better engagement when there is a thumbnail image to go with it. Ours is a distracted and fast-paced society, and the speed at which we scroll through Facebook may be indicative of how we speed past each other. We sometimes only stop for those intriguing, shocking or bias-confirming thumbnail images.
Perhaps you’ve seen that news blooper video with a thumbnail image of an attractive female anchor who actually never appears in the video, or that highly biased political hit piece with a thumbnail image of your hated politician in an embarrassing pose. Of course, in the age of photo editing technology, images we see online are all too often deceivingly edited or conveniently cropped.
In our subconscious mind, thumbnail images frame how we read or interpret the content. The trouble is, although thumbnail images are often captivating, they are only sometimes representative and occasionally not even relevant.
The shutter speed of a camera taking a picture is incredibly fast, capturing a moment in time that can be as little as one sixteen-thousandth of a second. That click has the power to capture a glancing moment that would not have been visible to the naked eye in real time.
We all know that “a picture is worth a thousand words,” but do we consider how much power we have to use an image for truthfulness or deception; for healing or for harm?
Ronald K. Foster, a Methodist pastor and photographer in Severna Park, Md., has been working on a project titled, “Framing Holiness: A collection of essays and photos.” I heard him present on his project at the Louisville Institute’s Winter Seminar. He began by exploring how some of the world’s greatest photographers used that brief moment in time not to embarrass, provoke or stereotype but to capture the richness and depth of people’s lives.
Examples included Dorothea Lange and her work capturing the struggles of families in difficult economic circumstances, the most famous being “Migrant Mother.” Lange’s photography was highlighted in Anne Whiston Spirn’s 2008 book, Daring to Look, which Foster said had a strong impact on him. He said the title is “an apt phrase to describe. .. the unarming, disturbing, and conscience-pricking potential of both good photographs and good prayers.”
A few years ago, Foster stumbled upon his own similar opportunity. His church had been hosting guests all week as part of a rotating winter shelter program for the homeless. Foster was there, taking generic pictures that protected the guests’ privacy. But at one point, he says, a couple asked him to take their picture. He did so, and gave them a copy.
It immediately seemed to intrigue other guests. Foster found himself taking many more portrait-style pictures of these homeless individuals and families. Some were reluctant to ask, but quickly said yes when he offered.
Accompanying each of Foster’s photos was a story. He had taken the time to connect with the guests and hear about their life and struggles. The pictures were powerful. They were taken in love. They were taken with care. They were taken with insight into what came before and what may come after.
Foster’s description of one couple was particularly striking. They told him how they fell in love and how they had fallen on hard times after the husband finished serving with the Navy. They badly missed their children, whom family members were raising while they tried to get back on their feet. They wanted their picture taken. Foster writes:
I felt like I was taking prom pictures for a couple of 17-year-olds, though the worn lines on their faces reminded me otherwise …. They put on the best clothes they had with them, brushed their hair, and in her case, added a little make-up. It seemed like my invitation to do a portrait of them had transported them back in time, if only fleetingly, to a point where things were more hopeful and their imagined future more kind.
When we think about different people or events, we often operate with a “thumbnail image” that we allow to capture the essence and define reality. But that reality is never exactly the same from one to the next. The greatest barrier to us in realizing the complexity of reality can be the image we’ve chosen to represent that reality. Our volatile, fearful, and too often prejudiced world needs followers of Christ who are willing to find and share the deep story that goes beyond thumbnail images.
What is your thumbnail image of the homeless? Are they irresponsible people who are reaping the consequence of idle hands, or are they people who want to self-sustain but are caught in a cycle?
What is your thumbnail image of immigrants? Is an immigrant a fence-jumper with illegal drugs in his back pocket, or a hard-working family man who brought his loved ones here for safety and security?
What is your thumbnail image of the LGBT community? Is a lesbian someone who participates in loud parades by day and promiscuous sex by night, or someone who works 60 hours a week and struggles to find any free time, just as you do?
What is your thumbnail image of police? Do police engage in harassment and abuse, or are the police brave heroes who face danger at every turn? In the midst of all the recent, explosive debates and protests, what worries me most is how many people seem to think that only one can be true. (In February, This American Life aired a two-part series called “Cops See It Differently.” I cannot recommend it highly enough.)
Images are powerful, but they can be deceiving. An amazing opportunity to learn — and perhaps even heal — is presented to us when we are willing to ask the question, “At what am I looking?” Such an approach to the other is the beginning of loving one’s neighbor as oneself.