Surveillance and how much data companies collect on us has been in the news for a while now, and hardly a day passes when I don't read a comment or timeline post on FB about this topic. Yet surveillance photography dates back to the 1860s.

In 2016, Jane Aspinwall curated an exhibition at the Nelson-Atkins entitled Surveillance. The oldest image of the 100 shown was from the Civil War, a snap of the activities of Confederate soldiers, which the Union used to telegraph Confederate troop positions to its soldiers in the field. Twenty-two years later, there was a wearable camera with five chambers. Aspinwall noted it sold tens of thousands of units, mainly to a more mainstream market. I don't know about you, but I cannot conceive of that device in that era. As time progressed, new surveillance methods developed throughout society. We now live with little expectation of privacy outside our homes.

Many of us retained human connection during the pandemic via Zoom meetings, calls, and conferences. We looked forward to seeing the people-crowded monitor as our welcome way of keeping community or working while isolating in our little bubbles. It's been over three years since COVID changed lives worldwide. Though many of us now suffer Zoom fatigue, it has also proven to be a boon for those of us, like me, located far from the art world's centers, giving us access to artist talks, workshops, and portfolio reviews from far-flung places. Most recorded conferences alert the participants and notify them whether the recording is for public consumption, private rewatching by the participants, or just for the sponsoring venue's files. 

But what when one of the participants secretly goes beyond simply participating? Where is the line between looking, voyeurism, and spying?

Our sense of anonymity and privacy is part of what Sheri Lyn Behr asks viewers to ponder via her series Life During Zoomtime, from which this image originates. Behr’s long interest in issues surrounding surveillance are evident in other bodies of her work. For this series, she surreptitiously makes screenshots of people in the participant gallery while attending events held using Zoom. The photos include friends and strangers, even herself. She then manipulates the images and builds a new grid with images and text contained within them. Despite the manipulations, it is possible to identify people who unknowingly participated. I recognized myself and others I know (even if I can sometimes only recognize them because of Zoom.)

New Normal challenges us to consider our own assumptions, so I'm not going to comment either way on the ethical issues of this practice. Instead, I hope to bring this work to those who may not have seen it and cause them to examine their assumptions and beliefs about privacy, photography, surveillance, and permission in the current era.

Thanks for bringing this challenging issue to the fore, Sheri. It's a needed discussion.

Artist Bio

Sheri Lynn Behr is an award-winning visual artist and photographer, whose current projects examine photography without permission, perception, and the ever-present electronic screens through which we view the world. Currently based in New York City, her work has been exhibited and featured in publications throughout the world.

More of her work can be found at www.sherilynnbehr.com

Author Bio

Diana Nicholette Jeon is an award-winning artist based in Honolulu, HI, who works primarily with lens-based media. Her work has been seen both internationally and nationally in solo and group exhibitions. Jeon holds an MFA from UMBC.