The Tube

Before television sets used LCD screens to generate images, they utilized cathode rays. The internal machinery shot a beam of electrons against a reactive screen to create visuals. The technology was widely implemented in TV and computer screens until cheaper options, like LCD screens, undercut the market.

Cathode-ray televisions operate by creating a vacuum inside a glass container. Inside the vacuum is an electron gun, which fires electrons at a phosphor screen. This causes a small burst of light, which is repeated at incredibly high speeds via a deflection system, causing the gun to fire and “print” across the television’s frame horizontally and vertically, much like ink across a page.

The technology emerged in 1926, with approximately 40 lines of resolution (about 53 pixels). By 1928, resolution had improved to 100 lines of resolution (about 133 pixels). By this time, researchers could successfully display human faces on screen.

Because of the vacuum housed within, televisions from this era are often quite bulky with thick glass and reinforced structures. If the vacuum were to rupture, the set would be at risk of imploding as the surrounding air would rush to fill the empty space. The resulting change of pressure could shred other elements of the set and throw shrapnel into surrounding areas.

While cathode-ray tubes were once the dominant display technology, they have largely been replaced by flat-panel displays such as liquid crystal displays (LCDs) and light-emitting diode (LED) displays, which are thinner, lighter, more energy-efficient, and, of course, safer.

About this photo.

I took this photograph with a television that may be older than I am. Compositionally, this image could be considered a dual exposure, but it’s technically one shot. I set the camera to a longer shutter speed and caught the cameras within the show switching to different actors. The show/film being photographed is unknown.

I’ve created images using this technique multiple times, yet I’m not really sure what I want to say with the results. It’s corny to comment on the influence of TV, or “screens” in general, especially when they’ve been latched to mainstream society in one form or another for nearly 100 years.

Still, it’s interesting to me that "content” (originally called “programming”) used to be something literally fired at viewers from a gun. The protective shielding within the device turns those projectiles into figures we idolize, events we witness, and stories we cherish. I suppose it’s not that different from modern TV’s or phone screens. Then again, prying open a smartphone and prodding its innards wouldn’t cause the thing to implode in your hand.

Being built in such a way that literal implosion is a risk makes the TV’s screen seem like some elaborate self-defense mechanism, like a deep sea creature that can horrifically disfigure itself as a means of survival. You can almost imagine a wildlife documentary doing a segment on one. “When provoked, the beast creates fantastical images as a way to distract predators. If that fails, it expels its young by fatally collapsing its intestinal tract in a ghastly final attempt to perpetuate the bloodline.” I’d watch that.

It’s a real Wizard of Oz ending to this newsletter to emphasize that the physical core of these old TVs isn’t actually anything at all. It’s empty. It’s a vacuum, the exact opposite of anything and everything. There’s not even a wizard in there to hand out cliches. Oh joy. What a perfect place for the tepid life lesson.

If there’s anything to glean from “screens” and our relationship to them, it may be that it’s all - still - just light. We’re still looking for shapes in the campfire. What is “programming” if not a reaction to what we think we see in the digital flames?

Thank you for your time.

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