Selfies and the innovation of self-mythmaking
Looking at Narcissus's conundrum as a design problem, he faces two main issues: lack of control, and impermanence. The selfie seems to solve both of them
The mere mention of Paris conjures up images of lovers: walking along the Seine, kissing, maybe sharing a croissant. But on this trip, it has been the mass-demonstration of another kind of love that's struck me. It shouldn't have. Selfies are, by now, so ubiquitous that they are no longer even embarrassing (as in the decadent Rome of Cavelli's opera Eliogabalo, "where everyone is guilty, everyone is innocent"). In Japan this Spring, I saw more signs regulating selfie sticks than bicycles. Here in Paris, they're more easily procured than miniature replicas of the Eiffel Tower.
The bewitching appeal of self-love is hardly new. In Ovid's Metamorphoses, wise Tiresias rhetorically asks Narcissus:
"Why try to catch an always fleeting image
Poor credulous youngster? What you seek is nowhere
And if you turn away, you will take with you
The boy you love. The vision is only shadow,
Only reflection, lacking any substance."
Looking at Narcissus's conundrum as a design problem, he faces two main issues:
1. Lack of control - Narcissus's image is "nowhere," eluding capture
2. Impermanence - Narcissus's image is "always fleeting," eluding documentation
I think the selfie is so successful as an innovation because it seems to solve for both of these long-standing problems with Narcissism. It provides the subject with the impression of control over his or her self-image as actor-director, coupled with the ability to "immortalize" it on the internet.
CONTROL
Selfies give us the impression of control on two levels: first, directly from our perspective, and second, recursively from the perspective of others, dreaming of the illusions we will create in others' dreams.
As the ultimate manifestation of images "known to be false but felt to be true," selfies glamorously highlight some details while obscuring others to reinforce our own specialness.
The fantasy of someone else fantasizing about you is an even more cunning trick of mind. While, as Virginia Postrel points out, "Glamour is not something you possess, but something you perceive," the recursive perception of another's perception offers the illusion of possession--an illusion that can be seemingly quantified and insatiably fed by "likes," and archived for posterity on Facebook or especially Instagram, everyone's personal museum, digital formaldehyde.
IMMORTALITY
Selfies thus offer intimations of immortality on our own terms; they are a modern form of mummification. It's really no wonder that people are, increasingly, willing to risk dying for the perfect shot, and actively want to plan for their "digital afterlife."
Evan Carroll, the founder of Loggacy, a digital afterlife platform, explains that "the emergence of online digital legacy tools, that provide us with the opportunity to record our lives online and leave an everlasting legacy, provide a meaningful solution to the...conundrum concerning 'immortality.'"
That's a lot of provisions. The thing is, we're not preserving a record of our lives--selfies are carefully-staged simulacra, not faithful representations. Archiving them offers the promise not of self-history, but metamorphic self-mythology.
I'm reminded of a book I vaguely remember from childhood, where the main character is a little boy in search of perfection. He eventually finds it, if I remember correctly--and it's this boring room filled with people doing nothing. Perfection, he realizes, is way overrated; flowers are glamorous, but it's way more fun to be a boy.