When asked to describe the most “normal” human being, what do most people think of? In the early 19^th century, photographers began to capture the likeness of asylum patients and other ill individuals on film, usually against their will. These photographs were intended to highlight the abnormalities of the subject, and by pinpointing features that the individuals shared, photographers hoped to see if visual characteristics could immediately identify “the Other.” The very beginnings of this concept can be seen in the work of Louis Agassiz. In an attempt to “provide visual evidence to his theory that the races were created separately at different times and in different parts of the world,” Agassiz commissioned a colleague, J.T. Zealy, to photograph slaves from a North Carolina plantation in front view and profile.[1] These images we intended to highlight features that were not considered to be the Eurocentric idea of beauty, such as a broader nose or prominent brow. Within the same decade, medical doctor Hugh Welch Diamond photographed mentally ill patients because he believed their “diseased brain” could easily be distinguished through their eyes and expression.[2] Because photography is able to capture a moment in time, it was regarded in the Victorian era as being one of the most erudite ways to show fact. Diamond himself claimed that capturing patients in photographs “gives permanence to [their] remarkable cases…and makes them observable not only now but forever.”[3] Because photography was such a new invention in the Victorian era, the general public was unaware of the ways that a photograph could be manipulated to portray whatever the photographer wanted to show as true. It was not considered that a subject might be pestered into frustration or instructed to act a certain way to create a false truth. This manipulation of the viewer has been used for centuries, as court painters were often instructed to create a more tolerable likeness than their less-than-palatable subject, but the notion of persuasion in an image was seemingly not possible. Unfortunately, this meant that photographers could bring out the worst in their subjects or show them in an unflattering manner and use the product as evidence for their bigoted or ignorant theories.
            As stated, since photographs were considered to be unaltered and unbiased representations of the truth, they began to hold value as legitimate scientific evidence. Because phrenology and physiognomy could technically be supported with photographic evidence, they began to hold value as something more than a pseudoscience, although we know today that these theories are exaggerated and false. Photographers who were focused on these methods of identification were influenced by the idea of Positivism, which states that there are understood laws of humanity and society that can be uncovered with logical proof. Essentially, there is a justifiable reason for everything that need not be explained through metaphysics or religion. This concept is most noticeable in photographs taken of inmates in the 1840s. By creating composite images of criminals, photographers and scientists alike hoped to distinguish what facial and cranial features made someone more liable to have a questionable moral character. According to Allan Sekula in his essay The Body and the Archive, “criminal identification photos…are designed quite literally to facilitate the arrest of their referent.”[4] Mugshots, as they are now called, are used by the police to identify criminals, and the hope was that by making these individuals known, the authorities would be able to stop them before committing more crimes in the future. We continue this practice today to keep criminals in their place and hopefully deter them from committing a future offense.
In 1846, the identification photos of inmates from two New York prisons were collected by photographer Mathew Brady at the request of Eliza Farnham, who wanted to argue that certain traits made people destined for moral corruption. Ten adults and eight children were identified: the adults were classified by race or ethnicity, but the children were not. Although it may not have been intentionally malicious, identifying the adults by their race stigmatized them immediately, and it seems like Farnham knew what she was doing by intentionally not categorizing the children. This experiment was the first of many in photography fueled by physiognomy, which is the belief that each facial feature has a “characterological significance”.[5] Physiognomy is most often used to create a truth centered around a series of photographs or a composite image of people from the same racial, ethnic, or professional group. Sometimes this practice yields fascinating and mostly harmless results. One sociologist who took a more optimistic approach to this practice was Adolphe Quetelet. Instead of belittling features of people he considered to be inferior, Quetelet created the concept of l’homme moyen, or the average man, that was the ideal of strength and beauty. Instead of trying to concoct the perfect individual or devalue social outcasts, the average man was intended to detect what was abnormal and find ways to eradicate such deficiencies in society. Although Quetelet was not racially focused, this concept eventually melded into the practice of eugenics. Unfortunately, due to the atrocities of World War II, any benefits that eugenics could have possibly had will be lost forever, as the practice is now permanently connected to Nazism. While composite images of the most average human being are still created and shared today, eugenics in the twentieth century has been known to only “operate with brutal certainty in its negative mode… through the sterilization and extermination of the Other.”[6]
In the nineteenth century, two men led the way as social scientists who used photography to prove their independent theories: Alphonse Bertillon and Francis Galton. Bertillon created the mugshot: he would write notes and take portraits of the individuals and put them on cards, which were then filed. “He sought to identify repeat offenders” for the police, which he did by comparing precise measurements of criminals facial and bodily features.[7] Galton, on the other hand, made composite portraits of people within groups to distinguish the “average man” among the group. It’s also important to note that Galton is considered to be the father of eugenics. Included is a typical identification card from Bertillon and a composite image from Galton for comparison purposes.

Bertillon’s criminal identification card is of a Eurocentrically handsome sailor with a desirable flat brow, defined jawline, and straight nose. His crime was that he violated the “White Slave Act,” meaning he was involved in prostitution. Unsurprisingly, he was later let off without much punishment. Galton’s composite photo, considered a “landmark in composite photography,” shows the typical “Jewish type,” which in this case is a young boy.[8] The prominent nose, deep set eyes, and dark hair are all features that were used to isolate and target people during the Third Reich. Both projects have Positivist influence, as their photos are used to justify physiognomic theories about specific behaviors. Both Bertillon and Galton use images to convey a reasoning behind identifiable aspects in people who can be considered either good or bad. However, Bertillon takes a more straightforward, logical approach while Galton is critical in his analysis of the subjects. Bertillon’s works examine the different characteristics of supposed criminals and tries to make connections, but Galton is more accusatory in his theories about certain races or ethnicities.
The concepts discussed in Sekula’s landmark essay are still identifiable in today’s world, though perhaps not as obvious as they were in the past. The use of particular lighting and set-ups in criminal identification photos is constantly up for debate, as many news outlets will show white criminals in favorable, approachable images while people of color are shown as aggressive and stoic. Photographs are no longer considered to be unbiased representations of truth, as photo manipulation and staging has become so widespread that true candid shots are no longer the norm. No one has more control over their public image than the Kardashian family, and one of their members was recently involved in a scandal because an untouched photo of her was shared on the internet without her permission. She demanded that the photo be taken down, and although she was criticized for her reaction, many public figures react similarly when unfavorable images of themselves make rounds on the internet. This begs the question: should people have a say in how they are represented in photography? For the sake of autonomy, the answer should be yes, but unfortunately Sekula’s essay solidifies the fact that no one will ever have complete control of how they are perceived through the medium of photography.