Nadejda Pavlova, series Algorithm of Fears (2016)
ALGORITHM OF FEARS
article: Nadejda Pavlova
“Which is better: to be loved or to be feared?
The answer to this question is
that it would be best to enjoy both,
but if one must choose,
it is better for a ruler
to be feared than to be loved.”
— Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527)
Surveillance cameras. Bulletproof glass. Iron bars. Security guards checking even the soles of our shoes.
We are witnesses and participants in a daily manifestation of fear. Every household in the world receives information about increasing terrorist threats, financial crises, depletion of natural resources, and yet-unfulfilled predictions of the end of the world. These news reports inevitably fuel our sense of impending doom.
If we analyze the fears that fill almost every level of our lives, we might reach the conclusion of Norwegian philosopher Lars Svendsen (b. 1970): “A paradoxical feature of the culture of fear is that it emerges in a time when we live more securely than ever before in human history.” He also states, “Fear is not only something we are exposed to against our will, but often something we voluntarily expose ourselves to in an attempt to overcome our banal and boring daily existence. If fear is a result of boredom, and boredom arises from security, then the fear that permeates our culture is not real fear. Such fear is manufactured.”
Fear becomes a magnifying glass through which we perceive the world. Who needs it? It is contagious, and anyone can be infected. Without a doubt, fear is a powerful tool for selling through mass media. It can sell anything: insurance, real estate, health coverage, medication, plastic surgery, political beliefs… Everything disguised under the words: security, health, beauty, luxury.
And while real fear makes our bodies stronger, sharpens our minds, and helps us escape real dangers, excessive fear—constantly imposed on us in everyday life—leads to inefficiency. The sense of security, health, beauty, and luxury can easily be threatened, triggering instant, uncontrollable fear. It prevents us from assessing situations rationally and making the right decisions. “This shows that fear is preferred over real thinking. A person who thinks is less afraid. The philosophy of fear is based on the fear of philosophy,” says Lars Svendsen.
How Do Photographs Influence Fear?
“Why do people call photographs shocking? Why do they say this picture is horrifying? The shocking thing is not the photograph itself but the event it documents. It is the event that is horrifying, or rather, the way the viewer perceives it.”
— Oliviero Toscani
Shocking photography uniquely illustrates the fears of the observer—fears instilled for centuries, controlling the mind and numbing the senses.
Shock is more in the way of perception than in the content itself. We live in a cruel world where instincts can be controlled only if human beings recognize and break free from their fears. The pursuit of hyper-aestheticizing reality cripples the viewer, making them incapable of perceiving the raw, unembellished, and true nature of an event or object. A visual world where women have no wrinkles, nature has no shadows, and babies are always smiling leads to a sterilization of perception. The image of an “ugly” reality, where someone is fighting for their life or losing it, causes shock, confusion, and rejection.
Here, I want to share an example of a triptych of my photographs and the way it is perceived by viewers. The title is “I Believe and I Live” (2004).
The first photograph shows a woman sitting, arms crossed over her bare body. The next day, she is scheduled for her second surgery for breast cancer. Her body will never be the same again, and her life will change forever. She knows what lies ahead—she has already walked this path once before.
The second photograph is taken days after the surgery. She is in the same pose, but her chest is wrapped in bandages.
In the third photograph, the pose remains unchanged, but one of her breasts is missing. A rough scar, with freshly removed stitches, has taken its place.
In each of the photographs, she wears a large cross made of non-precious metal, over 200 years old.
She has always worn it. She has always believed—in a good outcome, in the goodness of people, in accepting fate as part of the journey, not as a punishment. She does not fear her mortality. She leaves behind much love and faith. Her faith is contagious, and some viewers can feel it.
Others find the photographs shocking, technically inadequate, and compositionally flawed. I have heard various comments such as:
“How awful,”
“Poor woman,”
“How can they show something like this?”
“This series is shocking,”
“The technical execution could have been much better,”
“A disturbing series,”
“For God’s sake—show some delicacy, even in the ugliest scenes, there can be aesthetics, as long as it is presented with taste and discretion…”
But the photographs are not shocking, nor is the situation an exception. Many women in Bulgaria and around the world share a similar fate.
What is truly shocking is the horror this triptych brings to the minds of some viewers. The fear of such a situation is so paralyzing that it prevents some from seeing a person who has preserved her dignity and faith while overcoming a life challenge. Instead, they see only a victim. A victim they could become. And that is the scariest part.
A society that raises consumers is built not on faith but on systematic paranoia. And fear is a tool for control.
— Nadezhda Pavlova, 26.01.2016, Bansko
