Virginia Woolf and the problematic nature of the photographic image

Twentieth Century Literature, Spring, 1994 by Helen Wussow

[Stephen] also said that he did not care to tell everything even to those who were dearest to him. He would, however, have been the first to admit that a biographer rarely penetrates far below the surface, and that he yet performs a useful office if he is fairly diligent, moderately intelligent, and scrupulously sincere. (2-3)

This comment is an interesting one for a biographer to make. Even more remarkable, however, is Stephen's own opinion "that a biographer rarely penetrates far below the surface." Stephen was famous for the insightful biographical sketches he wrote as general editor of the Dictionary of National Biography. It is noteworthy that this famous biographer felt that his own life would not be of interest to others "because it was so little interesting to him" (Maitland 6). "Stephen," says Maitland, "effaced, or seemed to efface, himself" (4-5). Maitland reassures his readers that Stephen is an absorbing, unexplored subject for a biography, at the same time arguing that his subject is already revealed. Yet he sees his role as raising "a veil, which hides nothing that is not honourable and beautiful," and he emphasizes that "not only have I nothing to conceal about Leslie Stephen, but that he had nothing to conceal about himself" (6, 3). Maitland's reassurances appear ironic in the face of Stephen's belief; if there is nothing to "conceal" has not all been revealed? What is the "veil" that needs to be raised? Stephen believed that his life was of no interest. Perhaps behind the veil resides nothing--nothing, at least, that can be captured within the frame of a biographer's words.

Leslie Stephen's role as elusive biographical subject is supported by the images Maitland uses to augment his text. When opening The Life and Letters of Leslie Stephen, the viewer is immediately presented with the man, or, in any case, the image of the man. However, in the list of "Portraits" following the table of contents there are two subtle errors that suggest that the enclosing of the biographical subject is not without its pitfalls. Although the text beneath Figure 5 reads "from a photograph by Julia Margaret Cameron," the list of plates contradicts this and claims it is "From a painting by G. F. Watts, R.A." (ii, ix). Similarly, the plate which faces page 196 is designated as "from a painting by G. F. Watts, R.A.", whereas the index contradicts this message and describes the plate as "From a photograph by Julia Margaret Cameron" (197, ix). Like his daughter's creation, Orlando, Stephen as biographical and photographic subject is equally hard to apprehend. In contrast to Barthes' description of the image as "a 'floating chain' of signifieds," in Maitland's biography it is the linguistic message which proliferates, and the reader/viewer must rely on the photographic image to serve as "a kind of vice" to keep the texts from ceaselessly multiplying as they vacillate between their contradictory selves.

As indicated above, Woolf suffered moments of dissatisfaction and occasional depression while writing Roger Fry: A Biography. In a diary entry for May 3, 1938, she expresses her disillusion with the project: