Wonderland (For Viola)
The Social Gaze: On Watching and Being Watched
“Today everything exists to end in a photograph.”
– Susan Sontag, On Photography
Sontag’s remarks were deemed controversial in the late 70s. In the digital age of image saturation, however, she’s the disseminator of the gospel truth. Everything today from our casual interests, beliefs, interactions across mediums, and even our personality – exists to end up in a 1080 x 1080 pixel and 4:5 aspect ratio photograph, nestled in a thoughtfully curated grid – for the feasting eyes of the other.
The malleability provided by social media platforms to alter our identities has been a matter of discourse since its inception. Our online personas have never existed in a vacuum. As social creatures, we’re in constant anticipation of the outsider’s gaze, in both awe and fear. The inherent need to be seen is always accompanied by the fearful clasp of judgment tight around its neck. The human herd instinct to seek approval makes most of our behaviour in social settings performative. From the clothes we wear and the movies we watch to the opinions we hold more often than not arise from the need to achieve a sense of belonging – the one slated third in Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs[1].
While the performances persist, it’s only human to slip up at times.
Entrée the power of social media.
Social media platforms like Instagram, Snapchat and X (formerly Twitter) allow us to not only create a production out of our existence but up the ante as well – we get to control who views our performance, along with the parts they get to see.
Here’s a thought experiment. Imagine you’re (doom)scrolling through Instagram when you come across a post by a conventionally attractive, white woman. She’s seated in an outdoor cafe. The sunbeams bounce perfectly off of her black sunglasses. Her profile faces the camera as she peers into her phone’s screen, carefully reapplying her lipstick.
Seems cool enough right? What if you zoom in just a bit?
Those sunglasses are the coveted Tom Fords in Whitney, and her lipstick is the classic Rouge Dior. What else, the bottom half of the picture seems to cut off a pack of Marlboro Lights and what appears to be an incredibly expensive lighter!
There’s at least a fifty per cent chance that you’ll believe you’ve stumbled across the feed of an heiress out to lunch in Italy. Such is the power of branding. The mere association with brands established as luxurious converts a simple photograph into an identity definer, as Professor Nita Mathur notes, “commercial brands and luxury commodities have come to serve as signifiers of identity in society”[2], allowing individuals to construct, deconstruct or reconstruct their social identities.
References
https://psychclassics.yorku.ca/Maslow/motivation.htm
https://sk.sagepub.com/books/consumer-culture-modernity-and-identity
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14JGQ1JWSgc&t=632s
https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbescommunicationscouncil/2023/01/26/why-and-how-to-implement-social-media-branding/?sh=3c975389793b
https://internetprincess.substack.com/p/standing-on-the-shoulders-of-complex
https://academic.oup.com/jcr/article-abstract/32/1/171/1796334?redirectedFrom=fulltext
https://www.wired.com/story/business-gen-z-social-media/
https://creative.salon/articles/features/is-social-media-over-for-the-younger-generation
https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/new-nihilism-how-gen-z-is-embracing-a-life-of-futility-and-meaninglessness-20231016-p5ecra.html
https://www.businessoffashion.com/reports/news-analysis/the-state-of-fashion-2024-report-bof-mckinsey/
more from this issue —
I am the beginning and the end of time.
Shoji slides between this world and
the next. I, the good daughter, steal your
breath as my birth water kisses stone over
stone over stone.
My rocks are skin not sand,
flesh and blue, cracked and smooth.
Today’s sun feathers behind the pines,
and I know the earth tilts, and the days are as
tiny as you feel standing on my shore.
But for now, twilight is eternal, and I,
the good daughter, show you starfish,
five limbed roses dancing just beyond
your toes. I help you save a crab, barnacle
clad, slow your breath to match the moon.
It’s a baptism blessing a carpet of mussels you wouldn’t
dream of eating. In your haunted state, I tour you
through this haunted place. I help you keep your
balance. Cast your eyes to the sky, and we’ll learn
the language of silence.
I, the good daughter, tutor you to fluency with
alien life predating us both. I paint my shore, so
beautiful it hurts, in every corner of your
mind that grows like land when
the ocean recedes.
Flesh and blue, cracked and smooth, stone over
stone over stone. In that breath where night arrives
and you take fright—take my hand instead.
I will leave a sliver of sun to guide you to the
corner of your heart. I’ll whisper promises of salt.
Tomorrow’s sun will feather up on Wonderland—
again and again and again.
Appears in —
Sally Toner
Sally Toner is a High School English teacher who has lived in the Washington, D.C. area for over 25 years. Her work has appeared in Northern Virginia Magazine, Gargoyle Magazine, Watershed Review, and other publications. She lives in Reston, Virginia with her husband and two daughters.
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