Look 13–Liverpool Study Visit

Nothing to do with Landscape, but as I’m planning on doing Documentary next, the study visit to the Look 13 Festival in Liverpool seemed a worthwhile Saturday outing. Full details of the festival can be found on its website – which, if I’m honest, is not a paragon of navigability. The theme was “Who do you think you are?” but more on that later.

The formal visit was due to start at 11:00 at the Open Eye gallery which is down on the harbourside – and in a stunning location. I got there 40 mins early which was a bonus as I’ve not been to Liverpool previously (except for a conference 20 years ago where I saw nothing) and was very pleasantly surprised by how dramatic the harbour area is. A sunny day helped in this regard as well – the shots in this post taken from my phone capture the overall feel pretty well.

       

It soon became clear that many of the people loitering with intent were other OCA students, and once we’d coalesced into a group Keith (Roberts) our host for the visit handed out some info and led us into Open Eye for the first of the galleries on the visit schedule. There were two artists on display here Charles Freger and Eva Stenram. Both websites have a significant collection of work on them, but I think Freger’s work is better represented by the images on display at Open Eye than Stenram’s.

Freger’s work reminds me of a Becher/Sander-esque typology, although the poses are slightly less formal and consistent. Series that I found especially interesting were Legionnaires, Wilder Mann and Short School Haka. The first consisted of two rows of waist length portraits. The upper row were all relatively young recruits, bare chested and for the most part striking a pose. The bottom row were soldiers at the other end of their career, with medals beards and full dress uniform. The thing that struck me most was how tired they looked – their eyes suggesting that perhaps they’d seen too much – and the dramatic contrast with the new recruits.

Wilder Mann was a collection of folk-dance costumes from around Europe/Asia. They were all reassuringly crafty and primitive, but I can’t help wondering just what relevance they really have in the lives of the individuals that were wearing them. No such misgivings for Short School Haka though – a series of pictures of teenage boys in school uniform  and engaged in a Maori haka. No sign of self consciousness – the performance clearly meant something to them. Some really inspiring material here.

I was a bit less (but only a bit) convinced by Stenram, who’s series Drapes uses Photoshop to add curtains over the female bodies present in a number of found soft porn images. We had quite a good discussion about the impact of gender on our reactions. They were mildly amusing and reflect a theme which can be found on her website where she has a series in which she has removed the ‘actors’ from outdoor porn shoots leaving just vaguely disconcerting empty spaces.

             

Once we’d revealed more about ourselves than was truly comfortable we moved on to the Bluecoat Gallery for a collection of Sander/Weegee images from the Side Gallery – some of which I’d seen before at the Side – and Identity Documents by Adam Lee – which I somehow overlooked because there was a truly fascinating collection of images from Arabic photographers in the gallery as well. The more I see of Weegee’s work the more I think he has quite a lot to answer for. He may well have played a significant part in forming the way the USA sees itself but he may also have been the first paparazzo. I think there’s a fair chance he’d have been regularly assaulted if he had tried his characteristic approach in the current climate. Sitting at the interface between ‘public interest’ and ‘interesting to the public’ his shots are undoubtedly quite hard hitting slice of life (and death) photos, but at what cost to the subjects and ultimately the reputation of photography as a whole.

Sander I’m a lot more comfortable with – setting aside the somewhat archaic underlying idea that there are “types” of people. I find the images very revealing of a way of life now long gone, full of characters – some respectable – some villainous, and full of tiny historical details about haircuts, clothing, footwear and tools. I could look at them for hours.

I exist (in some way) was a selection of contemporary Middle Eastern photographers who explore issues of identity in the Arab world. In my book pride of place goes to Lamya Gargash with her series Though the Looking Glass, which consists of diptychs featuring individuals as we see them, and as they see themselves, with their self-perceived failures to achieve ideal standards of beauty enhanced by the use of prosthetics. As well as revealing something of the frailty of the subjects the images should lead us to question the ridiculous stereotypes we are fed by the advertising industry. I also admire the bravery of the subjects, and perhaps the persuasive powers of the photographer herself.

Other displays of note included Hijab Series by Boushra Almutawakel and Larissa Sansour’s Nation Estate.

I wish I’d not missed Adam Lee, as on the evidence of his website his work would have played to my prejudice that you can tell a lot about people from their bookshelves and music collections (although he doesn’t cover that last bit).

The final trip of the day was to the Walker art gallery to see Rankin’s “Alive: In the Face of Death”, a double header from Martin Parr and Tom Wood and a curated trip through the archive of commercial photographer Keith Medley. For me this was the least convincing part of the day overall. Starting with what I felt was the best bit, the Medley exhibition showed pairs of photos taken for passport or studio portraits, one of which was used and one of which was rejected. The result is a series which highlights the subtle changes in pose between shots – and very often the stilted similarity between them. It also leads to questions about how we, as viewers, make a choice of preferred shots since it was not always obvious why one might be preferred over another. So far, so good, but it felt a bit downhill from there.

The Rankin exhibition seemed to consist of several separate projects all on the theme of death. The images were, as far as I can tell, technically exquisite and in some ways that was their undoing for me. The treatment worked well for the series of masks made from various objects – which offered more than a nod to Hirst’s “For the love of God”. Attractive, but what did they tell us? Then there was a series of photos of casts of the faces of the rich and tedious– which seemed to say little about them except to foreground their vanity. The centrepiece was a series of “everyday people who know they are running out of time”. As a subject this has huge potential, but I felt the visual treatment left you looking at the picture rather than the person – very contrasty, commercial style lighting, monumental scale - I don’t know, perhaps I missed something – but I got no sense of the personal tragedies and triumph’s behind the images (with the exception of the image on the link above). Sometimes the spirit of the individual would creep out – and I have nothing but respect and sympathy for them – but as a viewer I felt the series suffered a dislocating mismatch between style and content.

I’ve left Tom Wood and Martin Parr until last because I genuinely don’t know what to say. The Tom Wood feature in the BJP a couple of months back was more interesting, and having read so much about Martin Parr perhaps I came to the exhibition with unreasonable expectations, but am I alone in thinking that they’re just well observed and moderately witty snaps of everyday life. Perhaps that’s all they’re intended to be, and context is everything, as they say. I’ve seen it suggested that Parr in particular was among the first to adopt this style for photos of us Brits – and that’s something I can go away and explore – but for the moment I just don’t get it.

At this point we split up – some went to the Exhibition Research Centre at Liverpool John Moore (it was shut I gathered from one of the group that I bumped into on the station), some went to the Victoria Gallery, but out of an odd sense of loyalty to my local city I tracked down a fringe exhibition by some students from the University of Cumbria who call themselves the 3+2=1 Collective. The work that stood out for me was “Peripheral Strangers” by Julie Dawn Dennis who has tracked down cropped out and enlarged portraits of those strangers who crop up in her family albums. We all have them, the people in the background of snaps taken at the seaside and at parties – and I thought the idea of bringing these to the foreground, almost as a memento of people we’ll never now was a really interesting idea.

It left me wondering what elevates some to the Walker Gallery and relegates others to a dank passageway in the back of a cafe bar. Time? Or Timing?

I’ve written far more about this than I expected. I must say thanks to tutor Keith for narrowing down the viewing opportunities for us, and spreading himself around as well as he could given that there were lots of us and only one of him. Thanks also to my fellow students for the debates and the good company. I have to say that up until this visit I was quite worried about the idea of embarking on the Documentary course, but there are now so many ideas running round that I’m almost looking forward to it.

Another trip to Newcastle

In Newcastle again over the last couple of days for another multi-purpose city break. The real reason for going was that we were marking Marion’s birthday by going to see Ludovico Einaudi performing his latest work “In a time lapse” (example here on his YouTube channel) at the Sage in Gateshead. Add into that some present shopping, a quick trip to the Laing, Baltic Mill and Side gallery and we had a recipe for a busy but enjoyable couple of days.

I’ll leave comment on the concert for others except to say that I enjoyed it very much and that I expect it to be a bit of a contrast to the Black Sabbath concert I bought tickets for in the afternoon!!

The Laing was majoring in its print adverts around town on its display from the Newlyn school which was very pleasant, but didn’t really catch my eye – probably because I’m not a painter. What did catch my eye however was Timecasting by Nick Kennedy – a clever idea which involved attaching pencil leads to wire cradles attached to the second hands of 81 clock mechanisms arranged in a grid on individual pieces of paper and letting them mark patterns as they ran. The blurb suggested that it “can be seen as an experiment in recording time and making it visible through a mechanised drawing process” which is arguably true of any artistic process which does not instantaneously capture an image or represent a single instance in time. I was more intrigued by the alternative premise in the blurb, namely that the process reveals “order from apparent chaotic movement.” Each circular trace – which was reminiscent of spirograph traces of old – showed clear evidence of the 60 ticks per minute being traced by the second hand. Although the little wire cradles bounced erratically at every move, it was clear that there was a pattern to their action.

The following day we kicked off with the Baltic, which was showing 4 different artists – one on each floor. On the top floor Fabric Hyber was showing a series of installations which appeared to me to be about the workings of the environment and mans attempts to control and exploit it – although I should say that nothing in any of the provided statements suggested this – or indeed anything very helpful except to indicate that interacting with the exhibits was to be expected. Unlike Adrian Searle in the Guardian I found it interesting and thought provoking – and it provided some slapstick amusement as well, with a series of sheds that had a couple of surprises in store as you opened the doors. If you’re in or around Newcastle I think it’s worth a visit.

Sadly I couldn’t say the same for the next two floors – a series of installations by David Maljkovic on one and David Jablonowski on the next down. In both cases I could have used an interpreter to help me get something from them. There is a handy little video here which helps (a bit) with the latter, although I think the analogy between concrete/polystyrene blocks and data on the internet is stretching credulity to some degree. Move on – I can’t enjoy/understand/empathise with everything.

The ground floor featured a series of paintings by Marcin Maciejowski re-presenting found images which appeared to question the relationship between painting and photography and examine more closely the purpose of both. Plenty of examples on Google if you want a flavour. I thought the upper image on this page was particularly provoking. I can imagine in the original that it was a series of pictures of wannabe starlets on the red carpet at some showbiz event, but in re-interpreting it he has changed the emphasis to their clothing – recasting them as coat hangers for the fashion industry. All that is – except one couple – who are apparently oblivious to the camera and so to some degree retain their humanity and distance from the marketing machine represented by the other images. But again – that’s just my interpretation – I make no claims for its “correctness”.

Final visit of the day was to Side Gallery which was showing a series by Patrice Terraz on the living conditions of abandoned seafarers. A mix of portraits and location detail shots the series admirably catches the mix of despair, stoicism and hope that must be felt by these individuals trapped in foreign ports by ship owners who can’t or wont pay their wages – and often wont even provide for their basic needs. It had the potential be be another misery tourism piece, but Terraz rises well above that, allowing his subjects to retain a sense of human dignity. These were very real people – in very difficult circumstances, yes – but people not victims. It seems to me that good documentary work – like this -  does not forget that. See it if you can.

Upfront Gallery

Upfront Gallery :

'via Blog this'

I’ve driven past the Upfront gallery dozen of times and promised myself I would pay it a visit. Well today I actually did it – and now I wish I’d done it sooner. their website is/was advertising a “Mixed exhibition of photography, paintings and original lithographs” and that’s what I got.

Immediately I entered the door I was confronted with a large watercolour and ink painting on Chinese paper by Irene Sanderson showing the artist and some cyclists below Blencathra. It’s one of those paintings that looks better if you stand back a little – at which point you have to search quite hard for the people – which was a nice effect – and caught rather well the views you get from another hill of walkers on distant hills. Typically for ink paintings her work was broad brush and expressive – which worked very well for the most part. Although it’s a work in progress the images on her website give a good idea of her style. Her display extended into the cafe so there was plenty of opportunity to enjoy/study it while I was slurping my way through the rather excellent carrot and coriander soup.

Elsewhere in the main exhibition space there was a series of delightful lithographs by Alan Stones. Skein (vi) – a quite minimalist presentation of a skein of departing geese caught my eye – for hopefully obvious reasons – and I was not surprised that in his notes he said that he saw his nature images as being a metaphor for human travel and other activity.

Alongside Alan Stones were two photographers – Damian Reid – who was displaying a series of Lakeland/northern landscapes of the kind currently popular – all ethereal light etc. He clearly has a passion for his subject and I felt this shot – of a raven landing on a crag – was outstanding. Further on their was a series of shots of Egypt by Mike Shepherd. Looking at his website he has clearly had a larger exhibition at the gallery in the past – which sadly I missed. The images covered very similar ground – and to be honest a similar style – to some of the shots I took while on holiday there a couple of years back, but I specially like his close-up work of wall reliefs – which seemed to capture the actual feel of the sandstone in which they were generally carved.

One last artist I want to mention – Tommy Martin – in the upstairs gallery. Another photographer of Lakeland landscapes, but in a much different style. Where Reid’s landscapes are luminous and mystic, Martin’s are generally darker – with a sense of foreboding. In as much as I understand it, I think he is invoking the sublime in many of his images, woodlands full of mist, mountains in blue twilight, sunbeams breaking through dark clouds etc. He also has one series of four images  - 1 per season – as per the Portfolio exercise on display – which is something of a coincidence.There were a number of other images on display that give me some clues and thoughts as to how I might proceed with Assignment 5 when I get to it.

All in all I’m glad I made the effort – and thanks to the Study Guide on Looking at Artists and Photographers. The advice to “look at everything I can” is something I sometimes struggle with because I perceive that all the worthwhile galleries are 2 hours away. Upfront shows how wrong that idea was and I’m looking forward to their next exhibition already.

If you’re heading past Penrith on the M6 the gallery is only a couple of miles away at most - exit via Junction 41 and take the B5305 towards Wigton.

OCA study day: FORMAT Festival, Derby: 16 March 2013

So, it’s a fairly grey Saturday morning in Derby, and I’m walking from my car to the prearranged meeting place at the University of Derby’s Markeaton Campus. I hazard a guess that the solitary figure I’m following might be heading the same way – say hello and it turns out to be RobTM. And there’s the first benefit of a study day instantly on show – we get to meet the otherwise largely unknown people behind the posts we agree or disagree with, and we get a chance to feel part of the organisation we all signed up to.

Next up in the line of benefits is we get to meet the tutors – in this case Gareth Dent, Jose Navarro and Andrew Conroy - and hear them talking about things they clearly have a genuine passion for. Before they can start on this though they’ve clearly had to go through the unenviable task of whittling down the huge range of material on show to a selection that they can all agree on as worth seeing. They admitted themselves that this was a far from simple job but they obviously agreed on a short list because we were asked to check out 5 artists in advance the day: Daniele Cinciripini, RJ Fernandez, Caroline McNally, Ken Grant and Chris Coekin.

Daniele Cinciripini – the series on show “Ten Minutes” features portraits of workers in Italian factories on their ten-minute breaks. Overall I felt the images chosen for the display were fairly cohesive. The overwhelming sense is one of isolation - or at least a determination to get away from others – and tiredness. Beyond that I’m not sure what they said. Perhaps it’s enough, but I can’t help thinking that somewhere the link between the way they are in their break and the process that put them there is missing.

The other artist in this part of the exhibition we were asked to bone up on was RJ Fernandez, and his series about gold mining in the Philippines. In spite of the relatively large prints the images were quite “snap-shottish”. Jose made the interesting suggestion that this was in fact deliberate – mirroring the lack of care being taken with the landscape, but expressed a reservation that the series did not really reflect the content of the artists statement. It is hard to disagree with this analysis – although the statement did cover quite a broad sweep of issues and there were only 5 images on show. The inclusion of a photo of a diorama seemed to compound this difficulty. On the other hand I found this an interesting series, because in some senses it mirrors the subject matter the limestone quarry photos of Hatkeyama while offering an entirely different treatment, and it does benefit from the extended series on the artists website.

Elsewhere in this part of the exhibition Louis Quail’s “Desk Job” attracted a lot of discussion. I was particularly taken by the presentation – with each of candid prints of office workers being suspended with office stationery clips – perhaps referencing the walls of the typical office pod. Sandra Hoyn’s “Poisonous Business” attracted a fair amount of negative comment for its portrayal of Indian leather workers – yes their conditions are appalling, yes some of the workers are very young and yes it’s an unpleasant and pollution business – but what are we , the viewer, supposed to do about it? I’m unclear how this kind of victim tourism helps anyone – not least because we’ve seen this type of image so many times. Callous? Maybe – but I can’t help feeling that the photographer told her story not their story.

Oddly though, the exhibit that produced the most discussion – initially of the “Is it photography?” type and subsequently about it’s meaning – was the 4-shot sequence produced by Christopher Steel in Lower down the value chain. Documenting just 4 pieces of office trivia it raised a whole series of issues about the way that modern commerce has affected our relationships with others and our need to establish our own identity.

After the University of Derby we moved on to the Deda Dance Centre where we saw Ken Grant’s images of Liverpool families at the seaside. For a variety of reasons I missed most of Andrew’s commentary on these although we did swap thoughts on the possibility that there was some stereotyping in some of the images.Overall though I find this kind of photography hard to engage with – which wasn’t helped by the slightly aged feel to the images.

Else where in Deda we had a solid discussion about Moira Lovell’s We Still Stand – a series of photos of men affected by the miner’s strike of 84-85 (does anyone know why the Format website insists on capitalising this?). The images are very simple small groups of men flash lit against a very dark background. Initially the discussion assumed that these men were strikers, but it soon became apparent that we were bringing our own assumptions to the debate – perhaps because of the simplicity of the images. In fact, the blurb does not even say that they are miners – leave alone ex-strikers. It does say that underlying her practise is an “investigation into awkwardness”, and there is certainly a sense of that in the images. Sometimes there are small groups with one or two standing a little apart – hinting perhaps at unhealed damage to past relationships, or hierarchies that time and change have not overcome.

One artist which caught my eye, but who we didn’t discuss was David Shepherd, with Discarded  - his series of photos on discarded objects recovered from the bottom of Wolverhampton waterways. The essentially random collection of intentionally and unintentionally discarded objects provide a direct link to the people who have worked the waterways over the years and also tell a story of the impact of time on man’s possessions and by implication his works. This was my favourite collection of the whole day.

A bite of lunch and we were on the move again – this time to Quad to see Caroline McNally’s Earth is Room Enough. Coincidentally (or not) this is also the name of a collection of Asimov short stories. It is so long ago that I read them that I can’t say if this has any relevance although the accompanying statement does reference her inspiration by sci-fi films and literature. Whatever – the series presents us with a series of shots of the capping layers on one or more landfills coloured as though they have been cross processed oin some way. There was quite a bit of inconclusive discussion about the reasons for this and even more about whether she suffered from the same problem as RJ Feernandez – ie the pictures did not reflect the aims of the statement. It would certainly take a leap of imagination to extract a critique of consumption based culture. In some ways this is a shame as there is much more powerful and interesting work available on her website.

On with the fairly relentless pace – this time to the Chocolate Factory to see Chris Coekin’s The Altogether in which he takes a series of portraits of the employees of a copper wire factory based on poses from old TU banners. The images are made more poignant by the knowledge that the factory was about to close when the images were taken. I enjoyed this set – along with David Chancellor’s Pelepele it was one of only two sets I recall that presented people in difficult circumstances with any real dignity. Ian Teh’s Dark Cloud’s elsewhere in the Chocolate Factory takes the familiar route trodden by Sandra Hoyn.

What particularly appealed about The Altogether was that although the idea could have across as a bit po-faced the workers were clearly enjoying themselves and hamming it up for the camera – they were equal participants with the photographer.

And so it drew to a close. It was my first photo festival – and certainly wont be my last. The sheer quantity of work on view was something of a challenge and it was certainly helpful that the tutors picked a few for more detailed study – even if their choices did not necessarily coincide with my interests/tastes. So thanks to them for their efforts in making it a thoroughly interesting and enjoyable day.

Study Day: Futureland Now (Laing Art Gallery) and Jim Shaw (Baltic Mill)

Tutors: Gerald Deslandes and Emma Drye

This was a study day in two parts – the first to visit Futureland Now at the Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle. Having attended the seminar which accompanied the exhibition, and in truth learning very little about the artwork itself (lots about the politics of the artists) I was quite looking forward to hearing some informed comment on the images themselves and I’m happy to report that’s what I got. I think this is the first time I have been exposed to a proper analysis of an image and it was quite a revelation to hear a formal discussion of the individual elements of an image in the way that Gerald set them out. I’m not going to dwell on any particular image as it was the method that interested me most – but something I found particularly helpful was the discussion of the sublime, and how elements of it had been incorporated into many of the images – something I had struggled with on my previous visit. I think I have a better idea of what it is now – perhaps even how to incorporate it into my own work – although I do think that the viewer has to bring their own sense of awe to the party. the other thing that struck me was quite how regional the works were – once you understood where the pictures were of, and a little of the history they began to make even more sense. So score one for the OCA over the rather academic approach of the seminar.

After lunch we wandered downhill and across the Tyne to part two of the day at the Baltic Mill, Gateshead. Explaining Jim Shaw is a bit of a challenge – one that Emma gamely accepted. The exhibition was over two floors – the first being largely dedicated to artwork inspired by Shaw’s self-invented religion Oism. Much of it seemed to be the product of a little two much 60s/70s psychedelia with Star Trek kitsch and comic book imagery everywhere. Inevitably the discussion wandered into whether Shaw was actually having a big joke or whether he had a serious point to make about American culture. The second floor was dedicated to a series of huge canvases which reminded me of Roger Dean artwork for a Yes album – so continuing the pyschedelic theme. All I can truly say is that they made me smile – on a wet afternoon in Newcastle that’s no bad thing, and maybe that’s all Shaw intended. To quote the Guardian’s Gerald Searle “A giant octopus floats by, head down, dangling like a testicle. There's a lot to be getting on with in Shaw's copious oeuvre, but only so much I can take in a single visit.”

But – it’s amazing what you pick up – one of the highlights of this part of the day for me was a short discussion with Emma about what makes good and bad "Abstract Expressionism” and in many ways it was this chance to meet like minded people and ask questions/share ideas that made the day. It’s the part of distance learning I find most difficult, and living so far from London means the opportunities are relatively few and far between. My thanks to Gerald and Emma, and the merry band of students for making it a genuinely worthwhile day. Perhaps I should make a belated resolution to try to identify a worthwhile visit in Cumbria.

Moriyama and Klein at the Tate Modern

This was the primary reason for the trip to London that saw me take in Light from the Middle East and Seduced by Art (and in deference to my wife Hollywood Costumes at the V&A and Billy Elliott). And I still don’t really know what to say about it. I came for Moriyama, so Klein was an added bonus, and as his exhibition was first in the layout I’ll start there.

I’ll be honest - my mind ended up swimming a bit from the sheer quantity of work on display so some of these recollection may be a bit vague. My handwritten note as I entered the first room says everything about my initial reaction: “It’s huge! Really Huge” – and it was. The opening room, and the entrance wall contained montages of some of his more famous prints – some produced very large indeed – think 8-10 feet high.  Coming from a country that doesn’t have a gun culture I’ve always found the ‘kid with the gun to his head’ a bit shocking, even though I know it’s a toy, but blown up bigger than life-size, and coupled with a number of other shots on a similar theme that shock is really driven home.

On the opposite wall are montages of smaller images, some of which were familiar – some less so – and this theme was repeated in the next room  - banks of images in his familiar, in your face style. A couple of things jump out here – this was a man who was comfortable in a city, who thrived in a city and just wanted to capture its spirit – and in the process he shows how much cities depend on kids for their atmosphere – a point which struck me again  and again after the exhibition. What would the underground be like without the groups of teenagers? The side streets without kids playing? We’ll probably know in 20 years, because the other thing that struck me was that you’d be vigorously duffed up by someone if you took as many photos of kids in a modern British city – which means our photographic legacy risks being childless.

When you see these photos all pulled together like this it really emphasises why it doesn’t matter that the horizons are wonky, the photos are sometimes blurred and the composition is not classical. It’s about vitality, verve and the sheer joy of taking photos.

Improbably I don’t recall seeing the ”models on the zebra crossing” before – but what a great idea – which he seems to have partially replicated in a film showing further on in the exhibition with a Christ like figure standing on the street corner in what I assume to be New York, and unlike the models (if the notes are to be believed) being soundly ignored by all the passers-by. Unfortunately I didn’t get a name for the film – but I suspect it may be The Messiah as it was fairly closely followed by a  police choir singing part of The Messiah.

The next room was dedicated to his city portraits New York, Moscow, Rome and Tokyo. Again his love of the vitality of cities comes through – although I had to conclude that actually cities are more similar than they are different. A particularly impactful section was the Japanese action painter who  as the notes accurately say, looked like he was splattering blood across a huge piece of paper by punching it until his knuckles were raw. It was only close inspection that revealed it was paint. Unsurprisingly Klein reveals in the notes and the accompanying interview clips that he couldn’t find a publisher for his New York book – my gut reaction is it was far too vivid and real, and had too many home truths, for the times.

Rooms 4 and 5 I found a bit less interesting – one was full of wooden panel featuring some of his early abstracts and another largely given over to some abstract photograms – although the Holland=Mondrian 1954 series was a playful take on Mondrian’s abstracts using the lines of barn walls and windows to replicate the grids of the artist.

Moving on we were treated  to excerpts from some of Klein’s movies – Muhammed Ali meeting the Beatles was a wonderful period piece and the craziness of Mr Freedom makes even the Simpsons look sane. Finally as far as Klein goes there was a room with some of his contact sheets blown up very large and painted on. I’d like to pretend that I understood the purpose of this activity – but I’m not sure i do. I can see it as a fusion of his early abstractions with his photographic works, and looking at the notes it was clearly something of a personal expression of joy and freedom for Klein. It also moves photographs out of the realm of being something simply representational and into an object – an idea that one or two of the artists in Light from the Middle East explored, but that only feels like part of it.

There was sufficient work on show in the Klein section for a whole separate exhibition – but my poor saturated brain now had to cope with Moriyama.

“My approach is very simple – there is no artistry. I just shoot freely.”  says Moriyama – and if you were to take individual images from the huge body of work on display you might be tempted to agree, but taken as a whole there is clearly something going on which makes you question what he means by artistry. Does he mean aesthetics? I tempted to say not, because he comes over in is writing and interviews that I’ve found on the web as very well able to express himself, but that just leaves me wondering – which may well be the point.

Moriyama’s strong point is photo books and so most of the images in the 6 rooms were presented as montages or sequences, and seen like this they begin to make some kind of wild sense.  Hunter 1972  is a case in point – billed as a view of Japan through a car window. I can see, doing a lot of driving, how that works. Snatches of people here, an overhead light there, lingering in the memory in an unformed mash-up of all the images you’ve ever seen through your windscreen. As Simon Baker says in one of the essays in the Moriyama catalogue (for some reason the artists didn’t want to share a catalogue) “In these works the photographic image loses its indexical grip on the journey, giving itself over to a delirious revelling in the strangeness of automotive visions: speed, motion, night-time headlights, rain swept windscreens and the world receding in the rear-view mirror.”

Moriyama’s cities are different from Klein’s. They have fewer people to start with – and sometimes the people aren't real, they’re mannequins in shop windows, or wall posters. Sometimes it’s clear which, sometimes it isn’t.  Klein's patch is the busy daytime street – Moriyami’s is the night-time - when the underbelly is even more exposed. You could imagine the pictures displayed as a slide show with the words of Pink Floyd playing in the background – “Moving in silently, down wind and out of sight, you’ve got to strike when the moment is right, without thinking.” Where he does shoot people, they seem to be as individuals or in pairs – with the exception of Accident 10: Sombre Sunday – which is a claustrophobic series of images of a packed beach done in his characteristic near abstract high contrast, so that it reminds me of his supermarket shelves in Provoke.

One down side of this vast range of subject matter and treatments is that it’s very difficult to analyse – even remember – individual images – and those that I do remember are often a result of having see them before so I’ve been looking out for them. But what does stick in your mind is the simply bizarre – the close ups of lips (hoarding or reality?), the woman with the piercings, the headless body (or was it?) the car accidents and shipwreck.

I was interested to see Farewell Photography and after (yet again) having to admit to myself that I didn’t really understand what the collection of print's from water damaged, scratched and torn negatives was really about it was quite a relief to discover that Moriyama has described the book as “pure sensations without meaning”.

And yet – amid all this chaos, in Room 4 we find that Moriyama can be studied and reflective as well. Light and Shadow 1981 and How to Create A Beautiful Picture 1987 are extended studies in light and form, finding beauty in the mundane by the simple expedients of contrasting light and dark and composition. “No artistry”? I’m still not convinced. And further on, in room 5, we find a slide show of photos taken during his time in Hokkaido, the run down surroundings capturing a melancholy feel as he was apparently going through a personal crisis at the time. Nearby was one of my favourites. Over a period of several days he photographed the entire inside of his studio with a polaroid camera, and re-assembled it as a 3-D room-sized mosaic on all four walls to provide an image of his studio which captures time as well as physicality. The change in pace between these later rooms and the earlier stuff was very marked, and left a significant impression on me.

But, lest we think that the hunter is going soft, we finish off with “Stray Dog” – his signature photograph – printed in several different ways and at various sizes. There is undoubtedly something about the dog that makes it unforgettable. Is it dangerous? Is it slavering? Or is it simply beaten down by the city? I guess we’ll never know – but it is clear that Moriyama has been reasonably comfortable to be identified with it to the point where he called his autobiography “Memories of a Dog”.

And so it ends. I could never have guessed from the few individual shots I’ve seen in books that Moriyama’s real interest appears to be memory and time – perhaps that’s what has attracted me to his work and I shall look forward to the next opportunity to see it. Klein was fascinating – but for me at least Moriyama was enthralling and stole the show.

“I think that the most important thing that photography can do is to relate both the photographer and the viewer’s memories.” Daido Moriyama

Seduced by Art: National Gallery

The third of 3 major exhibitions I visited on my recent trip to London. I had originally planned to visit Tim Flach at the Osborne Samuel gallery, but a web preview of the exhibition suggested that very few of the shots that interested me most were actually on display so I plumped for the National instead. I was a bit spoiled for choice as there were also exhibitions by Ansel Adams and Cartier-Bresson also available.

Anyway – Seduced by Art it was. No-one could deny the ambition of the show – which according to their website set out to show “how photographers use fine art traditions,including Old Master painting, to explore and justify the possibilities of their art. [1]

It’s worth a brief pause to examine this statement as it rather coloured my view of the exhibition – not a terribly rational reaction, but true nonetheless. In particular I am irritated by the idea that a photographer needs to “justify the possibilities of their art”. To whom? The curators of the National Gallery?

I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they’re simply being provocative not least because the opening exhibition, which sets a copy of Delacroix’s Death of Sardanapalus alongside Wall’s Destroyed Room and Hunter’s Death of Coltelli shows clear similarities and the Wall at least appears to be widely recognised as being influenced by the Delacroix.[2]

From this point on however I feel the exhibition begins to try too hard. For example, the comparison of Julia Margaret Cameron’s work with pencil sketches from her mentor lack conviction. Surely the similarity in tonality referenced is as much a function of the low-contrast albumen print as deliberate intent on her part, and she was working in an era when to be accepted as art a photo had to at least look like a painting, or refer to painterly subjects – so perhaps it could equally be argued that she was in a strait-jacket rather than under the influence. Ditto “Two ways of Life” by Rejlander.

While I was looking at Dijkstra’s Girl in a Bathing Costume I was treated to another visitor earnestly explaining to her colleagues that it was no coincidence the the girl’s pose mimicked that of Boticelli’s Venus – a claim repeated in at least one review I have read [3]. Unfortunately for this theory both the girl and Dijkstra have confirmed that the pose was a coincidence, with the similarity only being realised later.[4] This removes neither the beauty of the Boticelli nor the impact of the Dijkstra, and I’m at a loss to understand why this suggestion needs to be made in the face of direct evidence to the contrary – unless there is a suggestion that the Venus archetype is so ingrained in American culture that shy teenagers automatically pose like a Boticelli Venus when faced with a camera.

Elsewhere in the portrait section there was a Gainsborough compared with a Martin Parr and another painting (I forgot to note which) compared with a Tina Barney painting of a rather aristocratic gentleman in his dining room. While these do share similar characteristics it’s difficult to argue anything beyond vague pictorial similarities, which given the limited permutations available for portraits is not entirely surprising – it is a well established practice drawing on hundreds of years of history, just as it was when the old masters did their paintings.[5]

As I was a little pressed for time, I did not have the opportunity to look as closely at some of the images as I would have liked but it would be difficult to forget the impact of the next room, which featured a Struth photo of visitors to a gallery huge on one wall (questioning the reality of what we are looking at – a question I still haven’t resolved) and equally large a Luc Delahaye photo of the aftermath of a bombing raid in Afghanistan juxtaposed with Vernet’s Battle of Jemappes. Again these latter two come under the heading of trying to hard for my tastes. Battlefields have smoke, so it’s no great surprise that there are some similarities in terms of the smoke rising from the fields, but there any obvious “influence” ends. Indeed the exhibition notes quote Delahaye as saying  that there was no direct reference, similarities are a result of “shared pictorial and cultural references”. I would interpret this as meaning that those similarities are as much part of the viewer as the artist. I was more struck by the difference – the 1821 battle is all about people, the Afghan battle is devoid of humans – it’s a remote war.It says something for the mind set that the exhibition had given me by this point that initially I thought the photo was a tableau.

And this for me is the nub of it. Each of the objects on display was interesting in its own right – the paintings and the photographs – but I couldn’t help feeling that photography was somehow being patronised. Both Delahaye and Vernet have something meaningful to say about warfare, and attitudes to warfare, in their periods. Ditto Parr and Gainsborough, Boticelli and Dijkstra in their respective fields. One does not need to be justified or reinvigorated by the other.

I can’t sign off without mentioning Broadhead and Cole’s “Ode to Hill and Adamson” – a time lapse photo series in which a portrait of a woman is created “in the flesh”.. The final images are sufficiently close to the real thing that you would be hard pressed to claim that one was more “true” than the other. As we watch things more and more frequently on screens and mediated through other sources we really do need to take care with what we choose to believe.

 

[1] http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/seduced-by-art-photography-past-and-present – retrieved 10/12/2012

[2] Photographs: Jeff Wall (Pub: National Gallery of Victoria)

[3] http://londonist.com/2012/11/art-review-seduced-by-art-photography-national-gallery.php – retrieved 10/12/2012

[4] http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/18/arts/design/rineke-dijkstra-photographer-has-first-retrospective.html?pagewanted=all – retrieved 10/12/2012

[5] http://fabulousnoble.com/a-brief-history-of-portraiture/ – retrieved 10/12/2012

Light from the Middle East: Victoria and Albert Museum

As it’s name suggests this is an exhibition of work by photographers from the middle east (fairly widely drawn in this context) – either still living in the region or as part of the diaspora. If you can’t get to visit the V&A while it’s showing there is a fairly good selection of the images on show on the museum’s website.

The exhibition takes as it’s opening premise that, because of its accessibility, photography is an ideal medium for photographers confronting the social and political challenges of the region. It then develops this in three sections:

Recording

This covers ground from straight documentary through to images which question the reliability of photography as a documentary process. I don’t doubt the ability of documentary photography to make very strong political points, but I’m not kind of animal so I was more attracted to some of the more ‘staged’ images. Mitra Tabrizian’s “Tehran 2006” is a case in point. It is very reminiscent of Jeff Wall – a tableaux designed to make a particular point. It consists of a group of Iranian citizen’s somewhat artificially going about their ‘daily business’. The lighting hints at the staged nature of the shot, and to my western eyes the surroundings seem odd – as the museum notes suggest, they are strangely lacking in real infrastructure. The other thing that leaps out at me is the picture of the religious/political leaders staring down from the large bill-board on the right – keeping a careful eye on their citizens.

Tal Shochat’s ‘Trees’ are another example of documentary photography which is not quite as it seems. The trees are carefully groomed and lit, with a huge artificial backdrop sop that in the final analysis it isn’t quite clear if I’m looking at a model or the real thing (it’s the latter). The absence of scale adds to the confusion, only partially resolved when the titles give the clue to the kind of fruit on the tree.

Taking deception to the point of an optical trick, Ahmed Mater’s Magnetism I and II (unless my memory fails me completely these were the only two on display) looks at a passing glance to be a shot of pilgrims in Mecca. A closer inspection reveals them to be iron filings circling a magnet – an obvious metaphor for the draw of religion and the desire to undertake pilgrimage.

The final exhibit to really catch my eye in this section was a video installation of human imprints on the desert – giving the lie to it’s uninhabited reputation – but shown from the air without scale or significant reference points (Jananne Al-Ani, - 'Shadow Sites II'). Run with what I assume to be ambient noise from desert landscapes the looped video is eerie and somewhat disconcerting viewing, again making the point that it is often difficult to determine what an unsupported image is telling you.

Reframing

This section looks at a number of artists who have appropriated images or techniques from the past to make points about contemporary issues. Youssef Nabil’s hand coloured studies of Yemeni sailor’s who have settled in South Shields was a touching study of one of the oldest Muslim communities in the UK. Its hand colouring conveyed a sense of otherness and tradition. In contrast, Hassan Hajjaj  uses modern fashion photography techniques to illustrate the clash between contemporary consumer culture and tradition. “Saida in Green” was made even more effective in this context because it was one of the few photos in close proximity to a “Do not touch” label, which seemed to highlight the implications of the veil being worn by the subject – I can’t be sure that this was accidental – but it was not the only such label in the exhibition space.

The final photograph I really noted in this section was a series of watch-towers photographed in typical Becher-esque style. Monochrome, similar lighting, similar composition. The exhibition notes suggest that this resemblance is superficial - they are not as uniform or clear as the work of the Bechers, but this is understandable given that they are military facilities in an area of ongoing tension and conflict. What I struggled with more was that they are credited to Taysir Batniji – who, as the exhibition notes state, was unable to take the photos himself because of travel restrictions from west Gaza – so he delegated the task to local photographers. The only sense in which I can see that Batniji is the artist is if – and I can’t make my mind up on this – the context which raises these issues is the whole point of the image.

Resisting

An interesting choice of title for a section which consists largely of images which have digitally or physically manipulated. The notes suggest that this activity is questioning the truthfulness of photographs, but I feel the exhibition is well beyond that simple question at this stage. The earlier sections were much more effective at making that point – this section felt to me as if it were about the ability of photographs to convey messages even after manipulation, or when the clarity and detail for which photographs are generally admired have been removed. As a case in point Taraneh Hemami’s “Most Wanted” features a series of portraits which have been blurred and damaged to the point of total anonymity, yet they are still recognisably the western stereotype of Muslims with veils and headscarves. In some ways this undermines one of the claims of this part of the exhibition – that photographs are fragile things in the hands of photographers and censors alike. The messaging of some of the images in the previous sections is much more subtle and insidious, whereas in the defaced and damaged images the changes are manifest.

Conclusions

Overall this was a fascinating and, I felt, well selected exhibition. No one part of the region received undue attention, and there was a varied range of techniques, interests and perspectives on show.

I went to this exhibition a little unsure what to expect – mostly I feared that it would be a long series of documentary images about tension in the middle east. There was  of course, a measure of that. It would be rather odd, given the social and political circumstances, if the range of conflicts that cover the area did not feature quite highly. And yet they did not dominate. Instead there was an interesting and well developed theme about the un-reliability of photography as a documentary medium which implicated not only the censor and the photographer but the viewer as well.

Futureland Now – Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle upon Tyne

Futureland was a 1987 exhibition at the Laing Art Gallery in Newcastle upon Tyne to mark 150 years since the beginning of photography. It featured the photographic work of two visual artists, John Kippen and Chris Wainwright. If the blurb is to be believed it was apparently quite influential – sufficiently so that the gallery felt it was worth a re-run, as Futureland Now. There’s a very good review in the Newcastle Journal which features quite an in-depth interview with the two artists. To accompany the exhibition there was a Symposium to investigate “how recent photographers negotiate the aesthetics and politics of place”. The symposium included a structured conversation between the two artists, and presentations from a half-dozen academics and practising landscapers including Liz Wells and Jem Southam. It was this that had persuaded me, and fellow student Michael to give up our Friday evening and Saturday for our studies.

First up – on Friday evening – was the conversation between the two artists, catalysed/chaired by David Chandler (who like Liz Wells is a Prof at the University of Plymouth). The conversation was quite wide ranging and provided a fascinating insight into the way photography was developing as an art form in the 80’s. There was much talk about the way photo galleries provided a working space between commercial photography and art galleries, and some gnashing of teeth that that ground had been lost as a result of funding cuts – leaving photography largely to art galleries who were equally stretched.

It was clear that both artists saw there work as a response to the political realities of the time, and what they saw as the unravelling of social structures, and this, as it runed out, set the tone for some of the discussions the following day. In particular one of the key themes was the idea that Landscape could be as much a political comment as Social Documentary photography, particularly if you took on board the idea of being able to re-photograph the archive to highlight environmental and social change.

Saturday morning began with a historical overview from Eugenie Shinkle of Westminster University. She set out the development of the predominant aesthetic of the time ‘New Topographics’ and then came to the rather unexpected (for me) conclusion that this exhibition did not fit into that context. Her argument for this was that the UK relationship with landscape was very different from that of the US, where New Topographics had developed, and as a consequence these two artists had developed a very different response to the same questions: What should a documentary photograph do? What stance should the photographer take? and What should the output look like?.

Mike Crang – a geography related Prof from the University of Durham – followed this with a discussion that was billed as a look at the cultural geographies of the NE region, but was actually an attempt to show that such distinctions were becoming hard to make as a result of a growing internationalism and connectedness. He sought to provide some answers to the questions “Where is here?” and “When is now?” His highlighting of the internationalism of trade used two examples- shipbuilding/breaking and clothes recycling.

Noting the irony that the NE now broke ships rather than built them he highlighted the environmental and social impact of ship breaking in Bangladesh, referring to some of Burtynsky’s photographic work in this area. He also highlighted how most clothes recycled in the UK found their way to the far east for re-weaving.

Finally he made the point that because of this degree of entanglement any suggestion of an internal NE identity was a falsehood – he picked out Beamish as an example of this type of faux nostalgia and punctured the popular myth that Newcastle was about ship-building and coal mining. The reality is/was that Newcastle has always been a consumption centre and the largest employment sector in the city has always been mercantile and retail.

This was followed by Liz Wells (another Plymouth Prof) who compared and contrasted Burtinsky’s Oil with Sekula’s Fish Story. She made the case that Burtinsky’s use of the sublime and pictorial approach overwhelmed the message of the images – it was art for the gallery wall, rather than as a social critique. “Stunning and predictable” was one critical quote she used to describe it.

By contrast she found the work of Sekula more interesting and valuable for it’s complexity. The work was not easy – and that was the point, because it dealt with difficult issues. This really was photography as a social practise.

The morning session concluded with a tour of the exhibition and plenty of opportunities to talk to the various speakers and the artists themselves. I have to confess to be ready for the break – my head was full of new and interesting ideas to take on board. As an aside I was also glad of a break from the occasionally trite and always irritating political throw-aways – the digs at supermarkets and energy producers and the ill disguised hatred of corporate culture. I began to wonder at one stage if someone was about to suggest that the role of photographers was to paint “Four legs good, two legs bad” on the wall of the corporate barn.

After lunch Martin Newth from Chelsea College of the Arts took us on a stroll through a range of aesthetic strategies, illustrated by his own work and the work of a number of other artists including Sarah Dobai, Jem Finer and others. The formal proceedings concluded with a talk by Jem Southam (another Plymouth Prof!) who talked about the background to some of his photographic series.  He felt his practise  was essentially about walking through the landscape in a historic sense, capturing the changes that have been wrought by man and nature. He thought this mode of working was the British equivalent of the American road trip.

The day concluded with a discussion which opened with the question – does taking a photo change anything? I’m not sure we got an answer beyond the faintly optimistic “We hope so – or what’s the point?”

Overall this was an excellent day and a bit. I have a raft of new leads to chase down, a couple of new ideas for projects and a growing conviction that there is vastly more to Landscape photography than is hinted at by the course notes. My challenge now is to go and put some of it into action.

Jeff Wall: Photographs - The Art Gallery of W.A.

The Art Gallery of Western Australia Website:

There are lots of positive things to say about Australia - not least of which is that they have a range of excellent museums and art galleries in their major cities. For the second week of my hols I was in Perth, and as luck would have it the Art Gallery of Western Australia was showing Photographs by Jeff Wall, a selection of 26 of his major works.This post is an initial reaction only  as I've not yet had a chance to really study the images in the catalog - other than to note that its production values seem extremely high.

For those not familiar with his originals (which included myself before the visit) Jeff Wall produces very large transparencies which he displays in light boxes. This gives them enormous visual impact. In a related vein many also exhibit a very different viewing experience close up compared with when viewed from further back. Subsequent reading indicates that this is deliberate - Wall uses a large format camera to allow for just such an effect. In some cases it would be possible to view areas of the image as separate photos - which reflects the manner in which at least some were made - A Sudden Gust of Wind (After Hokusai) - for example.

I was surprised at the lack of landscape images as Liz Well's had made specific mention on Wall in Land Matters. The only example was a piece called 'Coastal Motif' which seemed difficult to relate to the other images in the show. And there is my only real criticism - there was a bit of a shortage on interpretive material which made it difficult to work out what was happening. Sure I can, and did, use my own brain, and I've subsequently discovered a quote from Wall as follows:

"I'm aware that the subjects I choose do have meaning, but over the years I've found that understanding these meanings is less important for me. My burning issue is how to make the next picture good."

But for all that I find the images easier to fit together now I've had a chance to research their background. I still have some more to do in this area - showing in a side room wasan artists talk from when the photos were shown at the Tate - it's over an hour long so I guess a glass of red and a quiet evening are required.

I'll finish this post with my favourite - several shots stick in my memory - not least the previously mentioned  After Hokusai, but I think the first shot I saw - "The Door Pusher" - has the edge, simply because I wasn't visually prepared for the scale and colours of the presentation. The review in that link says:

"The next room turns to panoramic landscapes, and we look for an obscure detail that might give us a clue to a hidden meaning but wind up with the familiar feeling that there is something we are missing."

and this seems to capture my lasting reaction very well. And maybe it's the feeling that I'm missing something that will keep me coming back for more.

Footnote: Am mildly disturbed that the guy in the last review describes the subject of "The Door Pusher" as a deviant. It could have been me many years ago!!

The Wonders of Ancient Mesopotamia, Melbourne Museum – 22 August 2012

Living in the country you need to take every opportunity to see decent museums and galleries. Last time I visited my brother there was an Impressionist exhibition in the National Gallery of Victoria. This time around the Melbourne Museum had borrowed a superb range of Mesopotamian artefacts from the British Museum.

The displays that struck me most were the wall carvings. I’ve seen similar before in pictures but never really thought about them in great detail – they often seemed like random collections of images – a kind of early ‘Where’s Wally?”designed to make the commissioner feel good about themselves. However the interpretive displays brought them to life – in particular they way they act almost like a comic strip to tell a story.

Two stick in my mind – the first is a lion hunt which is (if my memory serves) a series of four panels arranged one above the other with a primary image at each end (so about 8 primary images in total) which tells the story of the hunt and the death of the lion from beginning to end. As with Chinese scrolls there is no central viewpoint and so no use of perspective.

This lack of perspective is carried into the very large wall panel featuring the battle of Til-Tuba which is – to the untrained eye – very confusing. The original artist has made life easier for his viewers by providing little captions around the image to help them pick out the key incidents. Although it lacks ‘realism’ in the modern western sense, the lack of perspective gives a very good impression of the confusion and carnage which must have reigned on the battlefield at the time.

So what does this have to do with photography? I’m not quite sure but I’m developing a growing suspicion that the single-viewpoint nature of photography is a significant challenge to telling a story.

Art In Yorkshire - Exhibitions - David Hockney: Bigger Trees Near Warter

Art In Yorkshire - Exhibitions - David Hockney: Bigger Trees Near Warter:

'via Blog this'
Not actually started – or even registered for this course yet but wanted to record this here as it has sparked a couple of ideas for me. Visited this exhibition in April 2011 and never got around to writing it up. Given that it consists of a single image (even if it contains 50 sub-images)  Bigger Trees Near Warter leaves a lasting impression. It seems to follow  in some senses from Hockney’s photo-collages of the mid-eighties, and seems also to hint at some ideas for landscape photography which also chime with some of the earlier Surrealist photography of Atget.
To be honest I haven’t really thought this through in any detail – I simply don’t want to lose the thread.