The Logic of the Lure - An “Archive” of Desire/An “Archive” of Proximity

Artist Blog by Debmalya Roy Choudhuri

“Entirety exists within me as exuberance in an empty longing, in the desire to burn with desire” - Georges Bataille, On Nietzsche

I am not just an observer, but also the very subject of this desire through which I seek the other.

To photograph, for me, is to further this desire, to give it a semblance of love, an unspoken promise of togetherness, friendship, and intimacy. And to also come closer to the void that engulfs us all today. This duality is an integral part of our being. Photography creates a mystical lure that keeps me pulling toward it as much as toward the other. Perhaps, personally, the “aura” in photography exists beyond the logic of the pure representation that art and photography often are burdened with the task of. This “aura”/”lure” is an innocent and curious sensation. This lure is born out of a certain urgency and a certain primal sense of being.

The complexities and contradictions of the human mind have always influenced what I do. Through this desire for others and the attempt to chase encounters, I admit to my own alienation and the necessity for a human connection to restore my sanity.

Desire in today’s world often comes with a negative connotation. The expression of desire is often controlled, repressed, commodified, and yet subject to scrutiny. I attempt to understand this desire for life in a more personal and spontaneous way. Desire, not only in the sexual sense of the word. Desire as the force of life. Desire is not precise nor can it be contained. Desire liberates us from forces that corrupt us. Desire leads to love and helps develop a certain allyship with the other. Often through being an image of oneself, one reinvents this desire and takes ownership of one’s position in the world. This is what makes life more precious.

Without this desire, there is no understanding of photography for me. If life itself is flawed, then why expect a perfect photograph? Photographs are only the extension of my life, as fragile as it may be. Ambiguous in meaning, sometimes tender and sometimes violent. The only thing that matters is the next image and the wish to keep building this archive of encounters, an archive of desires, and an archive of solidarity.

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