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felix FRIDAY 19 novemBER 2010
The opinions expressed on the Comment pages represent the views of the author only.
We all judge people on looks
Black Sheep
“Evolution has
designed human
beings to judge
others largely on
their appearance”
We are all somewhat
superficial. Looks
are an easy way to
gauge the physiological
and genetic
stature of a potential mate (someone
with one non-functional eye and no legs
probably won’t be any good at fending
off savage beasts), and so evolution has
designed human beings to judge other
members of the species largely on their
appearance. We all do it, however vehemently
some of us might try to deny
it. Why else would our favourite magazines
be filled with advice from the arcane
and mysterious world of fashion
about what to wear and, much more importantly,
what not to wear?
Thousands of products designed specifically
to mask the hideous blemishes
and other imperfections that afflict us
litter the shelves of almost any pharmacy
you could name. We strive endlessly
to improve our appearance because we
know how important it is, with wonderful
television shows like Extreme Makeover
actively encouraging us to hack
our repulsive faces apart in the name of
beauty.
For both the less aesthetically pleasing
members of the public and those semihumans
so unbearably hideous that they
refrain from most social interaction
(among whom I sorrowfully count myself),
this almost universal preoccupation
with the cool and sexy is fairly dispiriting.
Shows like Entourage do their
level best to make you feel suicidally inadequate
unless you happen to be a gorgeous
billionaire actor, while the mere
sight of the buxom beauties in Desperate
Housewives sends most women into
a mad frenzy of jealousy.
New toothpastes, moisturisers, and
hair products are marketed to the downtrodden,
unsightly masses, and those
masses, motivated by sheer self-loathing,
buy them in enormous numbers. We
try so insanely hard to make ourselves
look presentable that, paradoxically,
most of our efforts simply exacerbate
the problem, fueling an extremely powerful
low self-esteem engine.
Despite some minor successes in
modifying ourselves, we remain largely
the same, and, unfortunately, so does the
importance of our appearance. What a
conundrum! What on earth is there to
do? Are you destined to become as unhealthily
bitter and angry as it is becoming
increasingly obvious I am? Well, as
an unattractive individual myself, I find
it productive and moderately therapeutic
to channel my resentment and rage into
small, barely read columns in university
newspapers. This somewhat alleviates
the crushing misery of my virtually intolerable
existence. I jest, of course (but,
depressingly, only very slightly).
The search for a happy middle ground
is the goal as far as this issue is concerned.
The opinions of other people
(be they respected friends or anonymous
simpletons) are rarely worth ignoring
entirely or taking so seriously that they
send you into a spiraling depression.
Appearance is important, and people do
make judgements based on it, but take
solace in the fact that different people
often appreciate different looks, one of
which may be yours (sadly for me, the
scruffy, gangly student look isn’t currently
in vogue). There is much, much
more to you, and everyone else, than
your appearance, and if you’re still
not convinced, there’s always Extreme
Makeover.
Photos can make us immortal
I
was back home the other day,
clearing out the attic, where, inexplicably,
a great deal of my
dearest childhood possessions
had wound up; cherished dolls,
ing that if someone remembers you, then
in some way, you’ll still be alive. Admittedly,
not in the way that really counts,
but it’s something.
And that’s what I like about photog-
the good times. But when our grandchildren,
or scouts from an alien race (Or
both), go through these documents of
our existence, I’m sure they’ll reach the
conclusion that we lived in a permanent
knitted by a late grandmother; industriraphy. Photos are a window into our state of bliss and that the Eiffel Tower is
ous railway tracks by Brio and Tomy; past. And it’s not just the great and the only a measuring rule for getting a photo
and enough Lego to fill a skip. I was grand. You can look back in your family straight. It’s repetitive, it’s monotonous,
conflicted. On the one hand, relieved; albums, smile at relatives long-dead and it’s boring. Of course we should remem-
my parents had said they had all been recall their adventures and anecdotes. ber times when we were happy, but we
Rhys Davies
stolen one night by goblins. On the other
hand, betrayed; my parents had lied to
me. And if they lied to me about this,
Photography has offered immortality to
the common man in far greater numbers
than any religious leader.
should also recall when we were sad or
angry, when we were lonely and sick,
to complement and contrast. Only then
what other pillars of my reality are built But there is a twist to this, a hellfire to can we remember ourselves and be re-
on quicksand. Father Christmas? The this eternity. Photos, especially now, in membered as people, living, breathing
Tooth Fairy? Say it ain’t so!
the days of digital and disposable cam- humans – not some horrible all-smiling
But parental deceit aside, I also came eras, have become...repetitive. Open any monstrosity from a Batman serial.
across a set of photographs I had at packet of holiday snaps and I guarantee What I’m saying is that photos should
Sixth Form. Proper photography; with that the majority of photos will be of be our biographies. And unlike written
darkrooms, heady chemical fugs, and families smiling in front of each and biographies, they’re notoriously easy to
bearded men swearing at size zero su- every minor landmark, with the occa- make. All we have to do is live – somepermodels.
As I drifted from print to sional mother reclining on a sun-bed in thing I find comes naturally to most peo-
print – out of focus, blurry and overex- the shade.
ple. The man with the camera will do the
posed – I came to realise something. I Exhibit B, Facebook, that testament to rest.
love photography.
our age. Select an album at a random and They’re also more powerful. They say
Despite centuries of bizarrely be- have a quick e-flick through. You will a picture says a thousand words, and I
decked fellows in pulpits assuring them see a group of friends, with some varia- think they’re right. Do you really need
that there is an afterlife of an eternal tions and substitutions, in a club, bar, or words when you see photographs of the
persuasion, men have sought immortal- party somewhere, smiling, cheering, and Twin Towers or 7/7? Or how about when
ity – usually vicariously through great generally indicating how they’re having the Berlin Wall came down? Or that one
works. The Pyramids at Giza, defeat- a grand old time. Now, go to the next with Einstein sticking his tongue out?
ing the French (at anything) or even A album. See anything different?
And with that, there’s nothing left for
Clockwork Orange. The gist of this be- I’m not saying we shouldn’t record me to say but – CHEESE!
“What I’m saying is
that photos should
be our biographies.
And unlike written
ones, they’re easy to
make.”
17
COMMENT
Thanks to the NUS
rioters, we all look
like morons
As a general principle I hate
protests. I would happily bet
you my life savings, the savings
of my future children, and the
eternal souls of all of my ancestors
that in a large enough
sample of protestors, 50%
haven’t got a fucking clue what
they are protesting about.
That is not to say that you
can’t have intelligent protests.
The Science Is Vital protests
outside Westminster in early
October were intelligent, wellorganised,
and above all, realistic.
If protests were cars they
would definitely be of German
make.
Extending the metaphor, the
recent NUS protest would be
the rusty old banger you buy
from a man called Joe who
perpetually squints at you,
when your financial situation
has gone through rock bottom
and is plummeting toward
shit creek. This isn’t because
I fundamentally disagree with
what the protests were about,
though for the record, I do. It is
because I thought that as the
‘academically elite’, we could
come up with better placards
than ‘Fuck Fees’, and not resort
to violence.
It is true that the rioters were
a small minority. But that’s not
the point. The general public
will only remember thuggish
students pictured smashing
windows and being morons in
general.
The NUS could have asked
the students to withdraw from
the Millbank building, to distance
themselves from the
extremists. Or you know, actually
have adequate numbers of
organisers to prevent this sort
of situation.
We are all going to be tarred
with the same brush by the
public. The NUS march hasn’t
shown ‘unity’, or that students
are ‘serious about the issue of
the cap’, but that a number of
students are inarticulate, thuggish
brutes. No doubt any day
soon the headline ‘Students
Cause Cancer’ will be an exclusive
in the Daily Mail, and
old ladies will complain to local
radio stations about how ‘students
are dragging this country
down’.
Ian Wei