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July 23, 2014
eye contact (n.)
A bit of an odd phenomenon, this thing called eye contact. There's no actual contact (read: from Latin contactus "a touching, "to touch" con+tangere) involved - just a reciprocated seeing.
When there is no other form of physical contact with a person happening (be it for lack of language, words, or proximity,) no talking or touching or interacting, when the only form of contact is through the eyes, it produces a very unique effect. That deep-set feeling from staring back into another's pupils is really profound, dare I say, existential: They're seeing you just as you are seeing them. Kind of simple, but very... well, not simple at all.
Though I've always been aware of this special connection that happens when you lock eyes with another being, I really saw it in a whole other light when I was travelling in India.
Something about Indian people, which I hadn't experienced during any other travels before, was this incredible confidence that locals have: They look strangers straight in the eyes. I'm talking about an unrelenting, deep, serious staring. For extended periods of time. With no facial expression but one that says, "I see you."
It's the kind of eye contact that initially makes you uncomfortable. "They don't know me. Why are they looking at me?" It almost feels rude, like they're prying open your soul, seeing something that you don't show to the world, perhaps something you don't even know exists inside of you. So, in defense, you look away...and then, when you sneak a curious look back, you find that they're still looking at you. And they don't flinch; serious face still there, forging a tunnel into the depths of your being. You blink and cower.
A few times, I tried attaching to this drawn-out moment of eye contact some kind of additional nuanced response with my face - a nod, a smile, some type of more socially-normative form of expression to acknowledge this other person staring back at me. But rather than a polite Canadian reciprocation of a nod or a smile, most times, I received nothing in return but that same "I see you" stare - as though just offering my eyes should have been enough. And then I realized, it was.
After a while, I got used to it; I began to almost prefer it. The time it took to have that awkward feeling creep up on me became longer. A few days into my trip, I was testing myself, daring myself to confidently return the gaze, to respectfully reciprocate whatever length of eye contact was set by the other person. I undoubtedly always faltered first, moving my gaze away. But I tried.
After about a week or so into my trip, of travelling about, camera in hand, observing Indian everyday living, it stopped being a game I waited to be invited into. I started actually searching for faces to find that eye contact myself - so that I could be acknowledged - acknowledged as the stranger that I was.
Otherwise, my presence felt a ruse.
I didn't deserve to witness their lives because I knew as well as they did, that to me, these everyday activities were not so "everyday." I was enthralled by the activity around me: the washing of clothes, the building of chairs, the sweeping of storefronts, of shaving beards and frying up dough. I started to feel guilty watching these (their) moments unfold in front of me, without some form of acknowledgement from them of my being there, an unspoken consent if you will, that here I was, observing and undoubtedly judging with a stranger's eyes. It felt odd watching, let alone pointing my camera lens. But I only started to feel this way after the first few times I was laid bare, exposed....by eye contact. I had been caught and there was no going back - unless to look back.
See, the thing with eye contact is that it pinpoints you as one who is witnessed, not solely as one who is witnessing. When you're travelling, it's easy to think it's all there for your taking, that it's all there to entertain you, with scenes unravelling in front of your eyes for your particular enjoyment because you came all this way to see this. But really, you're the outsider, the one entering a world that is always happening whether you're there to witness it or not. When someone catches you doing that, stares you down (whether intentionally or not), you realize this truth, and you never want to go back to being that ignorant one-way observer.
You need to expose yourself if you are really to see anything. Establish connection with the place by establishing eye contact with its people. You'll find that you'll not only see something different, you'll also see those things differently. They'll be more real to you, because you will have been more real to them.
When there is no other form of physical contact with a person happening (be it for lack of language, words, or proximity,) no talking or touching or interacting, when the only form of contact is through the eyes, it produces a very unique effect. That deep-set feeling from staring back into another's pupils is really profound, dare I say, existential: They're seeing you just as you are seeing them. Kind of simple, but very... well, not simple at all.
Though I've always been aware of this special connection that happens when you lock eyes with another being, I really saw it in a whole other light when I was travelling in India.
Something about Indian people, which I hadn't experienced during any other travels before, was this incredible confidence that locals have: They look strangers straight in the eyes. I'm talking about an unrelenting, deep, serious staring. For extended periods of time. With no facial expression but one that says, "I see you."
It's the kind of eye contact that initially makes you uncomfortable. "They don't know me. Why are they looking at me?" It almost feels rude, like they're prying open your soul, seeing something that you don't show to the world, perhaps something you don't even know exists inside of you. So, in defense, you look away...and then, when you sneak a curious look back, you find that they're still looking at you. And they don't flinch; serious face still there, forging a tunnel into the depths of your being. You blink and cower.
A few times, I tried attaching to this drawn-out moment of eye contact some kind of additional nuanced response with my face - a nod, a smile, some type of more socially-normative form of expression to acknowledge this other person staring back at me. But rather than a polite Canadian reciprocation of a nod or a smile, most times, I received nothing in return but that same "I see you" stare - as though just offering my eyes should have been enough. And then I realized, it was.
After a while, I got used to it; I began to almost prefer it. The time it took to have that awkward feeling creep up on me became longer. A few days into my trip, I was testing myself, daring myself to confidently return the gaze, to respectfully reciprocate whatever length of eye contact was set by the other person. I undoubtedly always faltered first, moving my gaze away. But I tried.
After about a week or so into my trip, of travelling about, camera in hand, observing Indian everyday living, it stopped being a game I waited to be invited into. I started actually searching for faces to find that eye contact myself - so that I could be acknowledged - acknowledged as the stranger that I was.
Otherwise, my presence felt a ruse.
I didn't deserve to witness their lives because I knew as well as they did, that to me, these everyday activities were not so "everyday." I was enthralled by the activity around me: the washing of clothes, the building of chairs, the sweeping of storefronts, of shaving beards and frying up dough. I started to feel guilty watching these (their) moments unfold in front of me, without some form of acknowledgement from them of my being there, an unspoken consent if you will, that here I was, observing and undoubtedly judging with a stranger's eyes. It felt odd watching, let alone pointing my camera lens. But I only started to feel this way after the first few times I was laid bare, exposed....by eye contact. I had been caught and there was no going back - unless to look back.
See, the thing with eye contact is that it pinpoints you as one who is witnessed, not solely as one who is witnessing. When you're travelling, it's easy to think it's all there for your taking, that it's all there to entertain you, with scenes unravelling in front of your eyes for your particular enjoyment because you came all this way to see this. But really, you're the outsider, the one entering a world that is always happening whether you're there to witness it or not. When someone catches you doing that, stares you down (whether intentionally or not), you realize this truth, and you never want to go back to being that ignorant one-way observer.
You need to expose yourself if you are really to see anything. Establish connection with the place by establishing eye contact with its people. You'll find that you'll not only see something different, you'll also see those things differently. They'll be more real to you, because you will have been more real to them.
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