As Others See Us
A social experiment that asks the question: Who do you think I am?
Last month, Kate Imbach published a piece called Fairytale Prisoner by Choice: The Photographic Eye of Melania Trump, which explores the author’s suppositions about why Melania Trump “won’t show up for her job.” Imbach built her case by analyzing the First Lady’s Twitter photos as though they were a “body of work.” In the essay, she determines that Melania Trump is “Rapunzel with no prince and no hair, locked in a tower of her own volition, and delighted with the predictability and repetition of her own captivity.”
The piece got under my skin. Political affiliations aside (and not really relevant), it bothered me that someone could try to characterize a woman and her motivations through a small set of images. It seemed a new permutation of what women have faced for centuries: being judged, categorized and condemned through the scantiest of evidence.
But the essay did something else, too. It really made me wonder:
How much can we tell about a person from their social media photos?
To find out, I did two main things:
- I asked several friends to connect me with friends of theirs who had not met me, so they could analyze my photographic eye and send me their opinions about my life based on photos I’ve shared on Facebook.
- I looked back on two years of daily life snaps, searching for photos that represent the kind of everyday image I might choose to capture but, for some reason, not publish.
I wasn’t sure what I’d find. But I suspected it would be illuminating.
Somebody’s Watching Me
Adding strangers to my friends list for this social experiment made me uneasy. I didn’t think friends of friends would bite too hard, but they could say anything. Each time I clicked that little “plus” button, on came a prickly, dizzy feeling — the same as how I feel when looking out and over a precarious ledge. My husband asked if he had done something that upset me. He hadn’t; I was simply cranky while I awaited my verdicts. Considering I have nearly 700 Facebook friends (who can judge me all day and night, if they want), and knowing I am a writer who puts her thoughts out for all to see, it was an unexpected reaction.
I might have felt the same had I asked random people to rummage through my apartment. Strangers inspecting my sock drawer, analyzing my choice in toothpaste, peering into the medicine cabinet: That would rouse understandable irritability. But was it understandable that the knowledge of invited strangers rifling through my online photos could make me irritable too?
I thought about the other side and what the volunteers would go through. The thing is, though, that voyeurs never have to admit if anything makes them feel uneasy. It’s in their silent, invisible station as observers that they find power.
And in this case, all they had to do was judge me.
Facebook Forensics
Over the past 3,500 days, I have shared about 3,000 photos. That’s close to one per day for 10 years, on average, and my volunteer voyeurs had access to all of them. If my Facebook photos are anything like wearing my heart on my sleeve, then they’d encounter a heart-patterned body suit.
Most of my photos are of my family. Most of the rest depict places I’ve visited during my world travels. Here is a sample, all of which are photos I have taken, except for two shots of me that are clearly not selfies.
The Verdicts
Was the trapdoor to my soul wide open all this time and I just didn’t realize it? You can help be the judge.
Here are what four people had to say about my life in pixels and a few comments on their assessments. Names have been changed.
Nancy, a 49-year-old American woman, remarried with three biological daughters:
“Visually, I can see you are a very beautiful woman. You have an extremely warm smile that tells me you are not conceited and open to everyone. For some reason, I think you are a dancer. You are in love with your husband and your children, and they couldn’t be more important to you. You have a quirky sense of humor and love to have fun and enjoy being around people. I also think you are creative and don’t seem to be afraid to try new adventurous things. Your children look so happy, so I think you are affectionate and don’t hold back emotions.”
Nancy has made some accurate observations and then a few that are partially true. When she sent her comments, she apologized for possibly being “too generic,” but that was the aim of the exercise. To my mind, there could be no truly specific conclusions to make without insider knowledge. The photo analysts were creating whole pictures with limited puzzle pieces — generic descriptions would be all I could ask for.
Of most interest to me: She notes that I appear to be “open to many people.” Try as I might, I don’t seem to be able to send this message out in person. Many people, including some who became my closest friends, thought I was reserved and arrogant until they got to know me. (I am the worst dancer you will ever see, by the way. Sorry, Nancy.)
Julie, 20-year-old American woman, unmarried, no kids
“I really enjoyed the pictures from your sister’s in Maine! I can tell just by looking at them you like photographing everyday things that people pass by but might not take the time to really look at the beauty in them — like a simple sign or some flowers. I also loved the candids I saw in a few albums! The unposed moments often turn out to be the best pictures in my opinion. All of the different places you have been to, I can see the different cultures in all of the photos because you did a wonderful job at not just capturing the sunsets, which is what most people go for, but you captured the town also and did it in a such a flattering way. My opinion is that you like to take your time, enjoy every moment that you’re in and really soak in the different environment and culture that you travel to! I loved looking at all of the pictures!”
Julie, the youngest stranger, focused on my photos in terms of their enjoyability rather than what they mean about me, but she did draw some conclusions. She believes I do a good job of enjoying every moment —an impression given perhaps by the sheer number of photos. But in reality, enjoying each moment is something I want to work on, and maybe putting down the camera more often is a way to achieve just that.
Tom, a 46-year old American man, married, no children:
“For this exercise I decided to peruse only your mobile uploads album. (I went back over two years.) I figured that I know what I would find in an album of profile pictures or vacation pictures and wanted to see the kind of stuff you would post on an ordinary day.
Two things strike me about these photos: The first is that they are almost always of other people. Specifically, what I believe to be your family. There are two children who appear over and over and I am assuming that these are your children. There is a man who appears repeatedly and I assume that he is your romantic partner. These people are photographed in loving and idealized ways, yet you are very rarely in the photos with them.
When I first see you in a photo, you appear with a camera around your neck. Your look is almost apologetic, as if you are saying, ‘Here’s me. But don’t worry, I’m going to get right back to documenting my family.’ If I were a reckless person given to heedless judgments, I would say your photos exhibit someone in danger of losing herself because she has given so much to her loved ones. You appear in relatively few photos, and when you do there is often an apologetic tone to your expression: ‘Sorry to be a bother, but here’s a photo of me if anyone cares.’
The other thing that strikes me is how many of your photos have to do with childhood. There are far more photos of the children than of the man. There are photos of children’s things, like toys or even what appears to be children’s menu at one point. You even took a photo of an ad that has a tagline reading something along the lines of “When You Are Ready To Grow Up”. If I were a terrible person who made snap judgments about people based on their social media posts, I would wonder if you were secretly pining for a lost sense of innocence.”
Tom’s response made me cry. He delved deeper with his analysis, although he is hesitant about passing judgment based on social media content.
Tom picked up on my obsession with childhood. I think that is a fair judgment to make and one that has directly to do with the sadness I experienced when I was a child. I serve my children in a way that no one did for me, and he has seen that come through not only in the many photos of children, but in the relative lack of photos of their mother.
One part of the interpretation that was off is being in danger of losing myself. It may seem counterintuitive, but I believe that becoming a mother has helped me define who I am and what my values are. In order to be the best parent I could be, I had to figure out these values and at a relatively young age, too: I was barely 25 years old when my eldest was born. Further to this, as a working mom, I am motivated to excel because of my children — not just in spite of them — and this also helps with building up and maintaining my sense of self.
Amy, 34-year-old married white female. Newly remarried step-parent, no biological children.
“Not knowing you, I would say you are very family orientated. Your family is very important to you. Your friends are close to you; however I predict your true circle of loyal trustworthy friends is small. You are well-traveled and appreciate culture. A well-developed vocabulary and your children are on or above grade level for their age. Your family does not struggle financially, and I would suspect both you and your spouse both have higher education. You live in a very nice home and can afford fine things, however by no means a Kardashian lifestyle. Per your modeling pictures, you are very comfortable in your skin. You are a photographer and a great one at that. You understand angles and perceived images; however you are genuine in your intent and purpose wholeheartedly. Your family is aware of GMOs and the importance of organic foods.”
Amy notes that my family must not have financial problems. That’s largely true. But, as both my husband and I are entrepreneurs, we are aware that at any moment things could tank, and then we would have financial trouble. We both come from families for which money was a struggle, and therefore there is financial anxiety humming in the background — even if in photos it’s undetectable.
In some ways I’m reminded of Melania Trump, just on a lesser scale, with these comments. Like me and my husband, Melania came from more meager means. Her multiple photos taken from her tall tower in NYC (which Imbach interpreted as proof of superiority) could relate to disbelief about where she has wound up financially. Or, she might photograph that scene as a way to feel more possession over something that she feels doesn’t really belong to her, or that might one day be gone.
What’s that word we use to describe taking photos? Capture.
Flowers and Telephone Poles
I was in Kittery last summer, where I took these shots of telephone poles and flowers and other signs of human life or nature in Maine while out for a stroll. Julie and Amy referred to them in their assessments:
What both women detected in these images of the things “most people pass by” was a sense of wonder, whimsy and nostalgia. And they wouldn’t be wrong. But there’s more.
When I was on this walk, I was by myself and visiting my home country for the first time in three years. My husband and children were in Thailand, where we live, and I had many things on my mind and felt a general sense of melancholy. Taking these photos shifted my focus from my worries for the time being.
Sometimes we capture images that are the opposite of how we feel, in order to maintain a kind of balance. We can’t fully appreciate happiness without feeling sadness, after all. We need to remind ourselves of both.
Photographs can also give us a sense of control over something, which made me suspect deeper meaning in the pavement pictures. As it turns out, I have a terrible fear of crossing the street. Someone very dear to me died this way — could that be why I was photographing pavement? To feel that I have power over the street? Or to observe it safely from the image stored in my camera, rather than with a direct gaze? (If you want to read the back story of my fear of crossing the street, please see “To the Moon and Back.”)
Not even photographers know what impels them every single time they press the shutter button. After photos have been processed and uploaded, we can process images again in our minds and reflect on the many possible reasons why we framed what we framed, shot what we shot, captured what we captured, and cropped what we cropped.
Private Collection
What is private is often alluring, just by nature of being something we aren’t meant to see. When I was a little girl, my mother wore a perfume by Estee Lauder called “Private Collection.” Drawn in by the name, written in pretty, blue cursive on the the box, I would sneak into my mother’s bedroom, slip the sleek perfume bottle from her dresser, and lift the gold cap to breathe in what I thought was the spicy-sweetness of secrets.
In a way, the strangers who browsed my Facebook photos were granted access to a semi-private collection of mine, normally reserved for those I’ve met in person. But they didn’t see every photographic record I keep. So now I want to give all of you — most being perfect strangers — a glimpse of my actual private collection (where the other notes of my life are) by publishing photos I have never before shared.
I have paired them with selected quotes from Nancy, Tom, Julie and Amy:
“When I first see you in a photo, you appear with a camera around your neck. Your look is almost apologetic, as if you are saying, ‘Here’s me. But don’t worry, I’m going to get right back to documenting my family.’”
“Visually, I can see you are a very beautiful woman … For some reason, I think you are a dancer.”
“Per your modeling pictures, you are very comfortable in your skin.”
“You have an extremely warm smile that tells me you are not conceited and [are] open to everyone.”
“I would wonder if you are secretly pining for a lost sense of innocence.”
“You are in love with your husband and your children, and they couldn’t be more important to you.”
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
With results of my photographical autopsy in hand, I thought about what images mean in our society today. What exactly have photographs come to represent: Are photos the real life? Are they just fantasy? And are social media photos a type of personality inventory?
At one end of the spectrum, we have photojournalism. These photos are supposed to mirror reality closely. Their intent is to document, to record history. This dedication to reality does not bar professional photojournalists from composing shots to evoke emotion, though — think photos of wounded soldiers; the faces of global leaders; Olympic victories; and the aftermath of natural disasters. Nonetheless, in terms of still photography, journalistic imagery is the closest we can come to slices of reality.
On the other end, we have high-fashion and fantasy photography. These photos may require elaborate setups, makeup and costumes, all of which alter appearances in the first place. Photo editors (sometimes in cahoots with illustrators) then manipulate the images for artistic and emotional reasons and to varying degrees of detachment from present-day reality. The intent is often to create artistic, imaginative and / or sexualized photos, and we should understand that these are meant to be imaginings.
The stylized, inspirational food photography we see in magazines could be a possible mid-point. Food stylists ensure a dish looks the best it can before the photographer gets to work: They wipe away splatters and artfully place sprigs of garnish and vases of flowers just so. And, to reduce unattractive shine and shadows, the dish is shot in the best possible light.
Sometimes though, especially in advertising, food photography captures an inedible sculpture made in the likeness of food. In these cases, the photo is a realistic-looking piece of fiction — the kind of image that confuses us the most.
With an art of the masses, for which social media feeds are overflowing galleries, it is even harder to interpret photos. We have the vague idea that the photos people post are supposed to represent their lives, but we don’t know each person’s intent with each photo. We can’t know how widely, accurately and deeply social media photos are meant to represent an individual, and for this reason we cannot fairly treat social media photos as personality inventories.
The trouble is, we make judgment calls anyway, even when the aggregate effect of a person’s social media photos can be as confusing to our brains as the sight of inedible food sculptures.
The Melania factor
The people I invited to make guesses about me and my lifestyle had access to every one of the thousands of photos I have posted on Facebook, and their observations were sometimes accurate. The most incisive comments spurred me to think not just about what I share online and why but also how I live my life — and how I might continue living the rest of it.
But these photos are my view of my life, with a few instances of others viewing my life from nearby. They are curated, edited, culled: From them, even my “private collection” above, no one can be certain what happens in my mind, in my heart or behind my bedroom door.
And that is sort of the point.
As with Melania Trump’s much-scrutinized personal Twitter feed, I am a cipher to those around me. I may leave conscious or inadvertent clues behind that point to larger truths about me — like all of us who post photos do — but in the end my images are just that: my image. Any efforts to assemble a true psychological profile from someone’s public photo feed will be at best fragmentary and, at worst, an injustice to and a caricature of the person being assessed.
While some people may be able to read psychological traits and characters into a large collection of images, honest narration is the only path toward full understanding. We need context and clarity to interpret anything. Otherwise, we risk lathering up theories that are either partially true or far from the truth entirely.
More imagery is being created now than at any time in human history. We wander the world with our phones and our cameras, capturing what’s around us, turning the camera outward and inward. All of us decode each other’s messages and images every day, and when we do so we are limited by our optics — by our life experiences, choices, desires, anxieties and perspicacity. Because of this, artistic interpretations will forever entangle the artist’s inner workings with those of the beholder.
An interpretation, then, is perhaps a type of art, too, open to interpretation itself—and, in the end, a snapshot in its own right. A glimpse, a taste, a hint, but perhaps very little more.
Shannon Frandsen, a writer, photographer and the editor-in-chief of Wanderlust Magazine in Thailand, grew up in Hyannis, Massachusetts. She lives in Bangkok with her husband and two daughters.
All photos, unless otherwise noted, ©2017, Shannon Frandsen.
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