There is a special significance of ‘windows’ in the world of literature and how much can one differentiate between literature and photography when the two of them attempt to not just create something, but to make it as such that it outlives itself and turns out to be true to John Keats’ words- “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Both literature and photography of any kind and specific to any genre tend to tell a story. The only difference between the two is that in literature, we create visual imageries of whatever meaning we infer from the given words while in a photograph, a visual speaks for itself and makes us formulate some meaning out of it.
In literature, a ‘window’ signifies a person looking out, from a space which is generally confining, towards a world full of endless possibilities, a world full of free air and freedom in it. In photography as well, the subject has a meaning. In this case, our reference is to the ‘window’ from the acclaimed “View from the Window at Le Gras (1826),” an epic moment in the history of photography as it happens to be the first architectural photograph ever taken. The man behind the lens is responsible not just for freezing this moment but also for inventing a process known as heliography- an invention that took photography to another level- and since then, the field has only positively progressed.
The man we’re speaking of is a French photographer Jo