Assignment Four - Feedback & Reflection

"This is an excellent piece of work ..." is the opening statement - STOP THERE!!!  Then he says that, in making some suggestions, "I do so with trepidation ..." WHAT!?!?  Just joking, I hope!  Actually, as always, there are plenty of helpful and valid comments.

 

·      He has cleared up a few queries around the Referencing System, which I have taken on board and changed.

·      He suggested that I might have been a bit too 'enthusiastic', at times, in my statements.  Fair comment - I was trying to avoid the academic-style prevarication (at which I'm perfectly capable of excelling) - but I've toned it down, here and there.

·      Then he has a number of suggestions for additional lines of thought, which are all valid and interesting but , as I think he is suggesting, would either be part of a longer piece or an alternative angle in a different essay (or just something else to follow-up on, of course).

·      I'm slightly surprised by a suggestion that the essay should have a line or two relating the subject matter to my own current practice.  That doesn't feel right, in an academic essay - but perhaps I'm wrong.  It seems more appropriate that such reflection would appear in this blog - which started in the last post and will probably continue.

·      And finally, my Learning Log is also 'excellent' but is "... a bit light on actual photographs of your own ...".  I agree with that entirely.  I haven't done anything 'serious' or 'deliberate' since February, when I did a little experimentation with still life in a contemporary style - here.  That's bad news; a photography student who is not producing photographs!  But, as I hinted in the last post, I am in one of those places that seem to blight the creative process.  I have been distracted by researching this essay; partially focused on other things - work/family/upgrading my PC.  But, most of all, I have hit something of a mire, in terms of what I could do, should do, want to do ... etc.

I do relate closely to the areas I discuss in the critical review essay.  Still life and studio work, as a way of exploring my own photographic practice and experimenting with possibilities, does appeal.  But another side of me is wary of going that way and ending up in some frustrating spiral of introversion that leads nowhere, and that no one else 'gets'.  And, it bears no relation to the brief for Assignment Five, so gets me no further in the course context.  That all needs more reflection and discussion with my tutor.

Then, on a lighter note, and to begin to correct for the lack of photographs in my Learning Log, here is one I took at the weekend.

It's in a quiet corner of the gardens at National Trust property, 'Croome', in Herefordshire, which I visited last Saturday, but it could have been anywhere.  I felt that I should have been an Impressionist painter, with hours to spend with my easel, capturing the mood of the light and the colours of the Forget-me-nots.  Even better, I might have sat and reflected, in the warm sun, on the joys and troubles of life. Instead, I paused for five or ten minutes, waiting for the sun to come and go before dashing on to catch up with the rest of the party.  Such is modern life!

[Then, just a few moments before sitting down to type this piece, I read a piece on the sports pages of The Times, by their Chief Cricket Writer, and former England Captain, Michael Atherton.  He is writing words of encouragement to current England opening batsman, Nick Compton, who is struggling for runs, who played an excruciatingly troubles innings in the recent Test Match against New Zealand, and who is in danger of being 'dropped' for this summer's high-profile series of Ashes Tests against Australia.  Poor Nick has had a bad attack of the 'angst'.  Atherton's solution (which he fully acknowledges is no easy thing to achieve, and freely admits he can't explain how to go about) is to rediscover the joy of the game; to find again what was like to be a schoolboy cricketer, hitting the ball with freedom and delight.  There's a message in there for me - and others who get in the creative doldrums.]

Assignment Four: a critical review (plus some “angst”)

I completed this assignment yesterday and submitted it to my tutor.  I’ve been very focused on that over the last month – together with work and family commitments, but I’m now taking the opportunity to reflect on the assignment, but also on a touch of “where am I” and “what am I doing”!

Starting with the assignment, I’ve quite enjoyed researching the still life genre and writing it up.  My title is “The still life genre is alive, well, and relevant to contemporary photographic practice”.  I think what I’ve done is interesting, in relation to current art photographic practice, and I’m broadly happy with the outcome. (Though I have to admit it’s about 10% over the word count.)

Thinking about the process, it has turned out to be more journal and internet based, in the research, than book based.  Most of all, that reflects a relative shortage of ‘serious’ written material on still life photography.  It certainly has, I suspect, in some peoples’ minds, connotations of pretty arrangements at the local camera club.  But I was focusing on “now”, which is another reason that the research was as it was.  There aren’t many books I could have consulted.  These two did feature : "Still Life in Photography" by Paul Martineau and "Stilled: contemporary still life phtography by women" - Eds. Newton & Rolph.  Gallery websites tend to produce quite a lot of good supporting material these days, of course; so I’ve also been sourcing material from National Media Museum, National Gallery, Photographers Gallery and the Museum of Fine Arts Boston, to name just a few.

Essentially, the thrust of my Critical Review essay is that, despite having been seen as a ‘lesser’ genre than, say documentary or landscape, still life thrives and is, if anything, seeing a revival amongst contemporary photographic artists.  I’ve also sought to demonstrate that this is not so unusual or surprising.  The Dutch still life painters experimented with symbolism at a time when the reformed church condemned idolatry.  The early photographers experimented with still life, not least because it stayed still long enough for their long exposures.  The surrealists experimented with still life and collage as they explored the medium’s creative possibilities.  So, today, when the growth of digital and web-based imagery calls into question the whole notion of what a photograph is, no great surprise that many take to their studios and explore that very issue.

My essay makes reference to three artists in particular – Laura Letinsky, Ori Gersht and Lucas Blalock.  I’ve presented Blalock as a ‘typical’ example of a ‘younger’ contemporary photographer – but there are plenty of others.  He is the interviewer in an Aperture article featuring Jeff Wall.  There seems to be a degree of tension (perhaps a bit too strong a word) between Blalock & peers and the previous generation, such as Wall, Gursky etc.  Wall suggests that Blalock’s work demonstrates a degree of “angst”.  Now, I’m picking up on that word.  It’s something I feel I can relate to.

I’ve written in here before about the attraction of doing some conceptual still life work, and have even done one or two tentative experiments.  Researching and writing the essay hasn’t lessened that interest.  When I read about Blalock and others, I feel some affinity with what they’re doing – this video of Blalock and his "99c store still lifes", for example.  I do, genuinely, find the ‘intellectualising’ and ‘theorising’ interesting, too (feels like a confessional!).

But then, another side kicks in and asks the question “Am I in danger of disappearing up my own a***, with too much analysis and soul searching?”  There is a bit of me wonders if it’s really ‘copping out’.  Get out there and make some proper pictures, Stan!!  Push yourself into some documentary work; find some people subjects; get in touch with the real world; and various other such thoughts!

Assignment Five beckons; and it is going to force me to face up to this dilemma.  The brief, in the course notes, is very much directed towards photojournalism.  It is, essentially, about photographing an event and seeking to ‘market’ the outcome to publications and organisations.  It is a direction that goes totally against the grain of where I am just now (not the marketing bit, by the way, OK with that).

Part Five of the course is titled ‘Professional standards’, which is a wholly desirable topic and an area where I definitely have some developing to do.  But do I want to pursue it by covering some local event and marketing my photos to the local press or magazines?  I don’t.  But – would it actually be of more benefit to me if I did stick to the brief and make myself do it?  Yes, it’s been done countless times before by others and I may come away frustrated that I’m not doing something original or something that excites me – but that might do me good!

I can’t resolve this at the moment, but I’m going to have to if I want to keep up the momentum. I feel the “angst”!!

[Actually, I do have an idea washing around that might possibly get me out of it; though it isn’t an easy one and might be a step too far.  What if I produced a series of images about an ‘event’ without actually being there??]

Study Visit – Open Eye Gallery, Liverpool

This was my first visit to the Open Eye Gallery.  It is a smart, modern, relatively new gallery space, perhaps on the small side but certainly adequate for the shows we say on Saturday.

Liverpool One - above the Open Eye

There were two exhibitions:

Mishka Henner

The works on show comprised:

·         A selection of his books, and those of other artists relating to image appropriation;

·         A selection of images from his ‘Less Americains’ book, presented as framed prints on the wall;

·         Extracts from his ‘Photography is ...’ book, presented as a single, continuous text print on the wall;

·         3 pieces from his new work ‘Precious Commodities’.

It was the latter that interested me most, but a word about 'Less Americains' first.  This was originally created as a book, based on Robert Frank’s 'Les Americains'; and I have to say that, for me, it works better in that form.  On the wall, the selection of 12 or so prints demonstrated the graphic qualities of Henner’s ‘reduced’ versions of the originals, but I’m not sure they achieved a lot more.  The concept of manipulating an iconic photobook in this way is a clever one and well-executed.  The witty title and the fact that Henner’s outcome (as a book) is, genuinely, new and different from the original, makes it an interesting and worthy piece of work.  It subverts the value of the iconic image; causes us to look afresh at both versions; and, like most appropriation art, it questions the whole idea of authorship.  But, even as a book, I’m not sure that it stands up successfully on its own.  Maybe it is only of ‘value’ through its relationship with the original?  And, on this gallery wall, the selection of prints does not, for me, move things on any further, maybe is even a step backwards from the book concept.

‘Precious Commodities’ is another thing altogether.  There were four pieces on show, all appropriated via the internet and created from aerial views of oilfields and cattle feed lots in the USA – highly processed, printed to a very high standard, and presented as large-scale colour images.

The main piece comprised around 12 square prints, which seem to come from this body of work - Pumped.  These were ‘nailed’ to the wall, in a grid, to form one single piece, perhaps 3-4 metres by 2-3 metres.  As is clear from the images in the link, the ‘marks’  around these oil wells form patterns, broken occasionally by small rectangular spaces where buildings/wells appear in sharp black, almost as if they have been drawn in with a brush or pen.  The high quality/contrast nature of the colour prints seems to give them a surface texture – resembling stone, or textiles, or an oil painting.  And, standing back to look at the complete work, that is what it most resembles – an abstract oil painting onto which small pen/brush drawings have been added.  (I was reminded of watching Andrew Graham-Dixon at the Rijksmuseum He became hugely enthused – and rightly so – by computer scans that brought up, in fine relief, the surface of Rembrandt’s paintings.)

Of course, these images (all of which can be seen here) are, potentially, pointing to issues about the environment, land use, food production, and so on.  But one can read the exhibition titles, and the artworks, in another way, I think.  For me, they also seem to be about form; about appropriation; about taking worthless, insignificant ‘bits’ of digital information and turning them into a work of art on a gallery wall.  Yes, the oil, the cattle, the land etc are all ‘precious commodities’, but the title also seems to refer to the perceived value, added by Henner, in turning something meaningless into a work of art.  The use of the word ‘commodity’ refers to the questionable commoditisation of art by the art market.  Does Henner wish to sell these images – presumably (and rightly) so.  Then he is knowingly participating in a market that attaches monetary value to creativity and so the work, perhaps, raises and explores the question of whether the ‘market’ is an appropriate mechanism for determining the ‘preciousness’ of the creative ‘commodity’.  I liked these works a lot; they fascinated me and drew me in to explore their form in detail.  I feel that Henner, too, is fascinated by what he can do with the original, meaningless digital information he harvests from the Internet.

I would also draw comparisons with two other artists that I have discussed previously in this blog – Penelope Umbrico’s Flickr Sunsets and Edward Burtynsky’s Oil.  Umbrico’s appropriated work seems to touch on the same issue of taking the insignificant and meaningless, harvesting the digital crops, and turning them into something meaningful and of ‘perceived’ value.  Burtynsky is another who explores the questions of land use, environment, etc through high-aesthetic images on a gallery wall.  Unlike Burtynsky’s work, Henner’s seems to step right away from the notion of ‘documentary’.  It is not clear what is being presented in the images and, whilst they might lead the viewer to ask the questions, there is also a sense in which they fascinate by their form more than their content.  Are they conceptual pieces, exploring what they are as art rather than what they show of the world?  I think, perhaps, so; and it is probably a sign of that fact that I have, personally, moved on somewhat in my reading and interpretation of images that I read, appreciate, and enjoy them in just that way.

Edith Tudor-Hart

The other exhibition at the Open Eye was quite a contrast - 'Quiet Radicalism'.  Quite a small show, from the Open Eye’s archives, it comprised, perhaps, 15-20 black and white prints, in simple black frames, mainly from her 1930’ photographs of Vienna, London and South Wales, but also including 3 or 4 from 1940/50s.  The interest, here, is as much around her motives and her background as it is about the images themselves.  She came from the ‘committed left’, a communist sympathiser, born in Austria but living in the UK, and connected with the Philby/Blunt Soviet spy ring.  The question was raised, towards the end of our viewing, as to whether or not we ‘liked’ them, with a suggestion that some people ‘dislike’ them because of their association with her political stance and her spying.

For me, they fall into the category of 20s/30s/40s black and white documentary photography, which includes the FSA, Bill Brandt, and so on; and they are ‘typical’.  (There might be formal differences e.g. several images are taken from and elevated viewpoint, which can be compared with Soviet photographer Rodchenko.)  With the benefit of hindsight, one might question whether these images, and those of other comparable documentary photographers, actually made a difference to anything; and there is a sense in which they become historical archives of what the period looked like.  Except that they aren’t of course, because life went on in colour!  Coincidentally, I was flicking through the Sunday Times next day, and came across this colour image of Paris 1944.  How would we read this image differently if it was in black and white?

So – a good visit – I am pleased to have seen the new Mishka Henner work, and it is of immense value to meet and chat with fellow students and two OCA tutors.  Many thanks to Peter H and Keith R for their input.

Exercise – An essay on reviewing photographs

This exercise focuses on an essay in ‘The Photography Reader’, published by Routledge, editor Liz Wells.  It is by Liz Wells herself, and entitled – ‘WORDS AND PICTURES: On reviewing photography’; an essay that, she explains in the opening sentence, has its origins in a piece written in 1992 for a newsletter targeted at ‘photo practitioners’ in the south-west of Britain.

What is the basic argument of Well’s essay?

It is that the challenges of writing about photography are even more complex in the post (post?) modern cultural context and in light of digital developments.  The first context dismantles the former hierarchies of critical authority, whilst the second opens up more diverse space within which the discourse is conducted.  Whilst that fluidity is to be welcomed, she argues, it doesn’t alter the fundamental responsibilities of the critic and even, insofar as criticism may be more subjective and value-driven, puts additional responsibility on the critic to acknowledge his/her subjectivity and values.

Is the essay’s title a fair indication of the essay itself?

I think the essential ‘message’ here is that a title is to be read in relation to context as well as content.  Taken totally out of context (a bit unlikely), the title might be interpreted as referring to an instructive and informative piece on the approach to ‘reviewing photographs’ and relating words to photographic images; whereas it is actually a reflection on the challenges facing critical reviewers in the late 20^th century.  In that sense, I guess the title could have been more specific.  But, she does explain its origins in a piece for photo practitioners and it does, here, appear in a Photography Reader, within a chapter entitled ‘Contexts: gallery, museums, education, archive’.

To what extent does the writer rely on Postmodernist doctrine?

If one reads the underlying and fundamental message to be that the critic still has a ‘responsibility’ in reviewing photographs, and that aspects the that responsibility remain beyond the emergence of postmodernist thinking, then it might be argued that this does not, wholly, rely on the doctrine itself.  Insofar as the new challenged she identifies for the reviewer are partially related to technological developments, those conclusions too might be reached without reference to postmodernism (though the doctrines do, in part, take account of and incorporate that breaking down of hierarchical structures through, for example, diverse communications channels).  However, much of her fundamental argument seems to centre around the additional challenges and responsibilities faced by critics since “Postmodern theory insisted that things are fluid, things fall apart, there is no centre” (page 433, final paragraph). In other words postmodernist doctrines supply the crucial underlying context within which much of her argument is developed.

The essay raises the issue of the qualifications and duties of a critic.  How important do you believe it is for a critic of photography to have deep knowledge of the practice of photography?

Wells does have something to say about the qualifications and duties of a critic (perhaps more about the duties than the qualifications).  Responsibilities include – feedback to the artist; the historical marking of particular exhibitions or events; engagement within debates about ideas and practices; mediating work to a broader public.  She goes on to say that, for critics to be constructive, they also need to be self-analytical, paying attention to the implications of what they are saying, and not simply reproducing established assumptions.  That means they must also acknowledge subjectivity, political tendencies, assumptions about readers, and even mood on a particular day.  Good writing, she says, involves knowing what they value and why they value it.  She acknowledges that most critics are driven by a fascination with their subject.

However, she also quotes Bill Jay’s views about criticism – revealing (according to Wells) his conservatism.  According to Wells’ version of Bill Jay’s view, criticism should introduce photographers you didn’t know about; expand your appreciation of a photographer’s work; place images in a historical context; place them in context of the artist’s culture; and throw light on process.  This, we are told, demands superior knowledge and insight.  The critic’s writing should be informative, elevating and useful.

So – Wells is presenting us with two quite different views – Jay’s ‘traditional’ conservative view of the critic’s (more limited and specific) role and her own, broader, more fluid definition, which incorporates the postmodernist doctrines mentioned above.

A thorough answer to the question posed would require some definition of what is meant by ‘deep knowledge’ and ‘the practice of photography’.  The former might include some/all of photographic history; art history; visual culture; in-depth awareness of the photographer, his/her background, purpose/intent, previous work, relation to other contemporary practice; sound knowledge of photographic process (technical and creative); broad understanding of cultural/political context; depth of knowledge about curatorial practice; a thorough appreciation of the art market; and so on and so forth!  One might argue that the best critical writer will have all or most of the above, and more.  A ‘professional writer’, one might say, should be striving to bring an up-to-date knowledge of all that is relevant to his/her writing about photography, whilst, ideally, retaining some degree of independent thinking, originality of view, and personal passion for their subject.

At another extreme, though, anyone can, to an extent, read and critique a visual text.  Wells’ article is certainly directed towards the ‘serious’ critic/reviewer, but, if we accept the notion that postmodern thinking shifts the creative process towards the ‘reader’, perhaps any response is a valid one and we are all, potentially, critics.  Herein, I guess, comes the notion of hierarchy, values and, potentially, the market.  Is any critical writer, fundamentally, and whatever independence they claim or maintain, essentially imbuing the subject of their writing with value, by which, potentially, the creator of the work gains commercial advantage.  In a capitalist system, the critic (along with the gallerist, curator, museum, academic etc) is playing a ‘market-making’ role.  Developing a ‘depth of knowledge of the practice of photography’ may well involve a thorough ‘steeping’ in everything that is ‘current’, and is likely to involve the critic getting very close to the ‘players’ in this market place, which can be exactly the approach that maintains the hierarchies and structures against which postmodernism appears to ‘rail’.

If the definition of ‘deep knowledge of the practice of photography’ is a narrow one – implying, in essence, (as might be inferred from Bill Jay’s view, as represented by Wells) that the critic should be a practicing photographer, then I think my answer would probably be ‘No, that type of knowledge isn’t important and certainly isn’t essential.  However, unless one is taking the extreme and not very productive view that anyone can critique a photograph, then the assumption that a critic brings some element of expertise and knowledge to their role implies some understanding, at least, of how photographers go about creating their work. And, if we were to broaden the critic’s scope, making him/her a commentator on visual culture, they may well need at least some understanding of painting, sculpture, print-making, video production etc.  There is little value in arguing that only a deeply knowledgeable practicing artist can critique art.  And critiquing purely on the qualities of process is to miss the point of creativity.

So, I edge towards the view that the reader reads that with which they are presented, and explores the process of creation in order to further develop the reading and understanding of a visual text (as opposed to the view that the reader learns about the practice of art and is then in a position to read).  A professional reviewer, who is committed to photographic art (or visual culture in general, or whatever), will develop enough understanding of creative practice and (in our current economic system, at least) the market, to ensure that they can effectively practise their own profession.

Assignment Three – New Version

Following the feedback from my tutor, I have produced what I feel is a much improved and hopefully more ‘professional’ version of my video in response to Paris Photo.  I’ve taken on board most of Jesse’ comments, used some better editing software – and spent a few more hours on it, of course!

Here’s what I’ve done:

·         Purchased ‘VideoPad’, a more versatile piece of video editing software than the ‘freeby’ that I worked with originally, and used elements of the original video to help me learn my way around it – effectively creating the whole format again, from scratch.

·         Listened to the soundtrack again, and come to the conclusion that it works, and that it provides a good structure around which to re-do the video.

·         Reviewed all my original images again, making a similar but slightly different selection, based on the fact that I knew I was working towards this video, as opposed to the original ‘generic’ selection.

·         Taken on board many of Jesse’s suggestions, such as:

§  Reduce the number of zooms and be careful about using ‘portrait’ format images (fewer used, and better control of the way they’re panned in the new version);

§  Don’t repeat images (only one repeat in this version);

§  Come up with a better title – hopefully achieved;

§  Deal with the ‘glitches’ – the new software seems to be much more effective a generating the video file;

§  Improve the precision and rhythm – just one quibble here, I wanted to have about eight ‘rapid fire’ images at towards the end, but even the new software couldn’t handle it;

§  Incorporate some other images and pick up on some of his cropping/zooming suggestions.

·         To help plan the new version, I printed all the selected images at 2”x3”, cut them up and arranged into a narrative sequence that worked best with the soundtrack.

·         I left that new version for a few days (whilst I was away in London, during March) and came back to it ‘cold’.  Whilst happy that it was an improvement, I felt it need a stronger start – recalling the message from Peter Rudge at the Leeds Workshop and the need to get the viewer’s attention in the first few seconds – and perhaps a cleverer ending.

·         Another piece of advice from Jesse was to look at some of the experimental videos on Vimeo.  There are a lot, and a very varied bunch, but it was the avant-garde category that most caught my attention; and I guess my own video might, loosely, fall into that category.

·         Since then, I‘ve been quite busy and it has nagged away in the back of my mind.  I’ve even occasionally been tempted, once again, to abandon the whole thing.  However, it is now ‘topped and tailed’ in a way that I think works successfully.  The three images at the start, with the short soundclip (downloaded, free of charge) do have a bit of an avant-garde influence, reflecting the Vimeo research.  The ending could be a touch ‘Monty Python’, perhaps even a bit ‘naff’, but Jesse did comment on the irreverence of my approach and I think the ending maintains that.

So, the new version is available on YouTube & is being shared with my tutor.  I’ve had enough of it for the time being.  I’m reasonably happy with it; certainly think it is a vast improvement on the original; and will now press on to other things, perhaps revisiting again when Assessment time approaches.  But, any comments and suggestions will be gratefully received and stored away until then

17th-19th March – London – Various Exhibitions

This was an intense three days!  We took in the following galleries/museums, with multiple exhibition visits in some cases (not all of which are going to be blogged here – but it will be a long post anyway!):

ICA – Juergen Teller – ‘Woo’

National Portrait Gallery – Man Ray – ‘Portraits’ (+ some other bits and pieces)

British Museum – ‘Ice Age Art’

Somerset House – ‘The Wool House’

Somerset House – ‘Landmark: Fields of Photography’

Somerset House – The Courtauld Gallery

Photographers’ Gallery – Laura Letinsky – ‘Ill Form and Void Full’

Photographers’ Gallery – ‘Perspectives on Collage’

Photographers’ Gallery – Geraldo De Barros – ‘What Remains’

As if that wasn’t enough, on our way to the ICA on the first afternoon, as we passed through Admiralty Arch onto the Mall, we were followed:

It was St Patrick’s Day & I shudder to think what the hundreds of Irish revellers in nearby Trafalgar Square, some of whom were already well into their bottles of Bushmills, made of this character.  We escaped into the nearby ICA to be confronted by three enormous images of Vivienne Westwood without clothes!  It was a tough decision, but we stayed where we were, ‘safe’ with Juergen Teller!

1.   Juergen Teller – ‘Woo’

Juergen Teller is not normally my ‘thing’; but it was the last day of this exhibition and I decided it was a good opportunity to at least have a closer look at his work.  Overall, I found it surprisingly interesting at all sorts of levels (which probably reflects the diversity of his work). Info about the exhibition is here.

·         First up, are the three enormous nude portraits of Vivienne Westwood (albeit flanked by Kurt Cabain and guitar to the right and a fluffy kitten to the left!). The colours are vivid, mainly from her hair and the cushions/throws.  The poses reflect so many other portraits from the classical painting to the ‘lads mag’ – but there is something you can’t help enjoying/respecting/admiring about this representation of a confident and, seemingly, comfortable woman in her seventies as the subject. I did not, to be honest, seek to ‘read’ these images. It would be possible analyse them in all sorts of ways, but I’m not convinced that this was the intention of the creator, the subject, or the gallery.  They are probably best appreciated as ‘sensational’ i.e. designed to produce a strong reaction.  Close examination suggested that they had been, perhaps, ‘blown up’ a touch further than was desirable – I’m talking about print size here!  But they are probably intended to be viewed from a walkway on the other side of the room,

·         Opposite, on that walkway/balcony, and in complete contrast to the Vivienne Westwood portraits, was a series of smaller prints, combined with text, about his mother in the woods – ‘Irene Im Wald’.  Actually, the accompanying text, which appears sporadically at the bottom of some of the images, begins by telling the story of an early experience he had when he first came to London, before moving on to open up some hints about his family’s history, some tale about his mother, father and uncle.  In common with much of the exhibition, the presentation style is not of the highest standard – personal and ‘snapshot-like’, bleached out prints, that have a sense of something aged and fading, from the past.  It works in this series, which I enjoyed, but less so in other areas, I would say (more later).

·         Then to another contrasting style of presentation in the ‘Reading Room’, where the walls are plastered with images, reminiscent of a teenager’s bedroom.  It’s an intimate space, with a table in the middle with copies of his books, to browse.  There are dozens of images on the walls, ‘carelessly’ arranged, mixing subjects, genres, styles.  Referring back to where I started this note about him I don’t much enjoy a lot of what Teller does, but this was an effective way to present his cross-genre, open-ended, and (I think!) honest approach to what he does.  I had been distinctly suspicious of his tendency to photograph his own nakedness; but I’m less sure now that it is pretentious or shocking.  Maybe it’s just something he does?

·         And then upstairs, ere two rooms with ‘gallery’ prints.  The first had a mix of, mainly, portraits e.g. Kate Moss in a wheelbarrow, Bjork and her son in a steamy Icelandic pool, Juergen’s backside on a grand piano, being played (the piano!) by a naked Charlotte Rampling, and so on.  Most puzzling for me in this room (and it was also true of the ‘Irene Im Wald’ prints) was why so many of them were printed in a kind of band across the middle of the paper – white borders top and bottom, but full bleed to the edge left and right. They were then simply stuck to a board backing (and beginning to bubble in one or two cases) and presented in plain white (cheap-looking) frames.  This was clearly deliberate, but the result looked a bit like the output of an amateur photographer who was struggling to get the printer to co-operate (Me! A couple of years ago!).  For me, the effect was to downgrade what was being presented – and one is drawn to the conclusion that this was the intention.  Teller could have his images printed to the very highest quality, should he wish, so he must have made this choice.  I can reflect, and have reflected, but I’m not sure I know why.

·         Probably the best of all, for me, was a monumental portrait of Marc Jacobs, maybe three metres high and taking up more or less the whole of one wall in the final room.  In contrast to some of the other work, it was beautifully composed, printed and framed.  One of three large portraits in the room, it certainly had an ‘iconic’ quality about it, reminiscent of a classical portrait of Christ.  The others, of similar size, were of an elderly mad in bed, with balloons, and a young man in his underpants apparently covered in soil (but I might have got that wrong).

Overall, I came away with a positive impression of Teller’s versatility and creativity, but still with a lot of reservations.  I’m glad I saw the work, but there is an awful lot of it that leaves me un-moved.  But then I don’t think he’s someone who would want to be pigeon-holed, so he’s likely to have that mixed impact on most people.  Getting to where he is involves as much drive and personality as it does talent and skill (as much not necessarily more); for which he deserves respect, even if one doesn’t like his work.  He puzzles me and niggles me – but that probably means he’s getting the result he wants!

2.   Man Ray – ‘Portraits’ – National Portrait Gallery

There are, in this exhibition, over 150 original prints on display – from the early 20^th century to the 1960s, but mainly from the 20s and 30s.  Described s “... the first major museum retrospective of this ... artist’s photographic portraits ...” (in exhibition literature and at the link above), the exhibition brings together work that usually resides all over the world e.g. the Pompidou Centre in Paris, MOMA in New York, and Elton John’s personal collection (wherever that resides), to name just three sources.  In that respect, it could be regarded as a significant global cultural event, worthy of attention.

There are lots of well-known Man Ray portraits – Lee Miller, Kiki, etc – original prints made by Man Ray.  It is also good to have the chance to examine original copies of the famous ‘VU’ magazine.

For some reason, the exhibition led me to reflect on the photograph as ‘object’ – presumably because that is exactly what we were viewing.  What did these photographs record?  What is their significance?  For example, we have several portraits of Lee Miller – a beautiful woman; a fine and influential photographer; an experimental collaborator with Man Ray.  What do the portraits actually tell us about her?  Or even about Man Ray, for that matter?  Perhaps I was ‘just that way out’, but I found myself wondering what it was all about!

Certainly, though, it was a fascinating and unique opportunity to see these original prints all together in one place.  It was also ver busy – hundreds of people at £12 a ticket.  If nothing else, it demonstrated the power and popularity of photography.  Why, though, did all these people want to go and see his portraits on a Sunday afternoon?

For me, it’s the fact that he is seen as such a different and influential 20^th century artist, placed right at the centre of that Dada/Surrealist ‘turmoil’, which was itself concurrent with so much drama in the 3^rd and 4^th decades of the 20^th Century.  But, in this particular case, what did we all get from viewing these original prints?  That we had seen them? Just that?  These photographs are regarded as significant ‘objects’, icons brought together for us to pass by and pay homage, but do they tell us much about the subjects, the artist, the times, ourselves? What is their value, besides rarity?  I’m not going to try and answer that, but the exhibition made me ask the question.

3.   Landmark: Fields of Photography – Somerset House

Somerset House

This is a big (literally) exhibition, comprising between 150 & 200 (often big) prints of images by c70-80 artists.  It is put on by the Positive View Foundation, who also did the recent 'Cartier Bresson: A Question of Colour' exhibition here.  It is, on the whole, well-presented, with some reservation about lighting large prints hung over high fireplaces in this impressive, but occasionally quirky, location.  You do need the map to find your way around, if you’re going to do it logically, since the exhibition is spread out amongst 17/18 interconnecting rooms and arranged into 10 different themes. It’s a good, sound survey of current activity in landscape photography, and includes plenty of contemporary work.  Despite the comments about lighting and quirkiness, the location itself has a fascination; the prints are excellent; and the curation is good.

I was a bit wary of the thematic approach.  The ten themes are Sublime; Pastoral; Witness; Landmark; Scar; Datum; Control; Delusion; Hallucination; and Reverie.  And there is a definition of each, supplied in the accompanying leaflet.  To be fair, Landscape is a difficult genre to pin down (if pinning down is a worthwhile objective) as some of our OCA Forum discussions have demonstrated, and this approach deserves credit for a novel but reasonably effective structuring of its ‘Fields’, as referred to in the exhibition sub-title.

Presenting work by such a wide range of artists is always going to be a challenge, too.  Since so much contemporary photographic work is produced in series but there are, at most, 2-3 examples of most people’s work, they are, inevitably, out of their context.  That doesn’t mean they can’t work, but the casual visitor here, seeing one image from Robert Adams, say, or Joan Fontcuberta, is hardly likely to get much appreciation of who they are and what their work is about.  But, on the whole, the presence of contemporary photographers such as Mark Power, Ed Burtinsky, Nadav Kander, Simon Roberts, Simon Norfolk ... and several others ... does produce a degree on consistency of approach.  Burtinsky, though, is a good example of the limitations of a big, multi-artist exhibition.  I happily spent close on two hours viewing his 'Oil' show at the Photographers’ Gallery, last year, with much consider and reflect on.  Here there is just a pair of prints, one of which is used in the publicity.  I must say that I did enjoy seeing some examples of Mark Power’s work, in full exhibition context for the first time.

The very last room was, I would say, most stimulating for me, and probably the most ‘current’.  There was a massive installation of 4x6 prints of Flickr 'Sunsets' by Penelope Umbrico, for example – mor about the contemporary photographic image than about landscape, perhaps, but good to have seen it.  I also liked Pierre Radisic’s 'Man Who Fell to Earth' (Click his name at this link, where several of the images from the exhibition are viewable) – apparently a brand new work, I learn via his Facebook page.

So, this was another worthwhile visit with some good things to take away, even if there are a few reservations about the premise.

4.   Laura Letinsky – ‘Ill Form & Void Full’ – Photographers’ Gallery

Laura Letinsky’s still life work is probably going to feature in my Assignment Four Essay, so a) it was good to have the chance to see this exhibition and b) I shall probably get into more detailed analysis at that stage.  This is her most recent work, produced 2010-11, comprising large scale images of ‘constructions’ created in her studio, from images of foodstuffs, cutlery, glassware, cut from magazines, plus elements of her own earlier images, and cut/torn paper.  It is the way that her work has moved forward, since 2009, from ‘actual’ still life images.  All her work, since photographing couples in their homes at intimate (not necessarily sexually intimate) momnts in the 1990s, demonstrates a very interesting and intelligible progression – but anyone coming ‘cold’ to these images might, perhaps, regard them as hard to appreciate – beyond their immediate aesthetic appeal, that is.

Let’s start there, in recording my own reflections on this exhibition specifically. Quality, exceptional quality, is where I would begin.  Beautifully executed, large-scale prints, a soft matte finish on them, and unglazed, so there is a genuine opportunity to interact (not touch, of course, though it’s tempting!) with the surface of the work – important, I think, in fully appreciating it.  They are all simply framed in white and, in the excellent atmosphere of the ‘Barbara Lloyd Gallery’ on the fourth floor of the Photographers’ Gallery, the effect, for me, was quite magical (not a word I use often!).  Even the casual viewers I saw wander in, glance round quickly, and then leave (and I can understand that) cannot have failed to sense that this work is ‘serious’, ‘important’, something of beauty, something created with deep thought and care.

Then, in total contrast to the quality of the presentation, we move to the subject matter – essentially, scraps of paper!  Some are cut from magazines, some roughly torn or folded, many taped together with (still visible!) invisible sticky-tape, some with hints of ambiguous smears or stains.  And where the cut-out images are of food, it is often half-eaten, or showing signs of age and deterioration.  Essentially, what is pictured is insignificant.  But it has been assembled with purpose, clearly, and is rendered significant by the very quality of the presentation – if in no other way.

As with her earlier still-life images of ‘post-meal’ tables, to which these obviously relate, there is always a sense of something over and passed.  We are looking at what remains; human presence was there, very clearly – chiefly, in this case, the presence of the artist.  She has selected, cut, assembled, taped, and left clear signs of all that activity.  And so we’re led to the conclusion that these are images about images.

Alongside the ‘careless’ (apparent and intentional, not literal) assembly of the subject matter is the ‘careless’ (same qualification) perspective, framing and balance.  There is always something uneasy and unnerving about the formal qualities – angles of view, composition, etc – giving the viewer a slightly uncomfortable feeling, but also encouraging engagement.  Frequently, I found myself trying to ‘dis-assemble- what she had put together – in my mind – and work out just what was going on with angles and relationships within the image.

Colour is worth a mention, too.  It is rich, saturated and consistent – but only in parts of the composition.  Much is monochromatic, in an even (mostly) and natural-feeling light.  The evenness of the light is certainly part of the project, though it doesn’t often impose itself on the image.  As with subject and composition, the colour also reflects back to her earlier still-lifes.

One might reflect on just what these are – collages, perhaps, maybe even sculptural structures, maybe still-lifes.  She mentions somewhere (I’ve read various articles – might have been in BJP) that there are three levels of ‘image’ present in this work – the original image(s) themselves; what she made in the studio; and then the physical phenomenon that we are looking at in the gallery.  And they are very different – she even points out that, in her studio, you would never actually observe what her camera actually sees.

So - complex, confounding and compelling – I have really enjoyed beginning to delve into her work and it is very fortunate that this exhibition coincided.  There is much to reflect on; much to puzzle over; much to research and read.  I enjoyed it – as is probably clear!

5.   Perspectives on Collage – Photographers’ Gallery

Eight artists are represented in this exhibition – all using photographically-based collage.  I don’t propose to go into detail on any, but to mention a few, those works that particularly struck a chord.

Firs up is German artist Nicole Wermers – a nice link to Letinsky, because she ‘appropriates’ material from magazines and catalogues – but this time, they are from interiors, design catalogues etc, often furniture.  The original material seems, in this case, to have been of high quality, glossy prints etc, and she cuts and rearranges them into what the exhibition leaflet describes as ‘semi-modernist abstractions’.  Certainly, there seem to be echoes of Bauhaus.  There is a beautiful and seductive element to the work, and I think this issues of seduction by design and image is at the heart of the work.

“Anna Parkina’s work defies categorisation”, so says Aesthetica Magazine in this article.  Described as a Russian avant-garde artists, she works in sculpture, painting and performance, as well as photography.  In this display of her work, we saw a series of collages, assembled from her own images, with a filmic quality about them – shades of the 1960’s avant-garde; mackintoshes and architecture.  They worked well and would, I’m sure, be worthy of more in-depth investigation when I have the time.

Of the others, I responded positively to Canadian artist, Roy Arden, who I might also investigate further, but was not especially keen on Peggy Frank’s arrangement of books on the gallery floor, or Clunie Reid’s combination of appropriated internet images, stickers, crudely-drawn marker-pen figures and shapes – but I have to admit that I haven’t spent a great deal of time trying to investigate further.

6.   Geraldo De Barros – ‘What Remains’ – Photographers’ Gallery

The third exhibition at the Photographers’ Gallery featured Brazilian artist/designer Geraldo De Barros, who apparently engaged with photography at different points in his career.  What is particularly interesting was the way he went beyond the simple photographic image and used multiple exposures, camera rotations, over-painting, scratching, cutting-out, and layering (physically) to create abstractions.  His second and much later engagement with photography came about as he used his old negatives and prints to create new collages.  Again – interesting to have seen his work – further confirmation of the potential in moving beyond the actual image, going past the simple notion of recording, moving to expression through construction.

So – a marathon trip to London – but a highly rewarding one, rich in stimulation, inspiration and thought provocation.