11/9
I recently saw/heard three things which made me think very seriously about the kind art I not only respond to but the kind of art I want to make.
The Harvard Film Archive had a retrospective of films by Bruce Conner (1933-2008) which were some of the most amazing things I've ever seen. He used almost entirely found footage which he edited together to create films that were hilarious, haunting, breathtaking, sad and truly unforgettable. It's like he created his own visual language out of discarded images (educational films, newsreels, b-movies, industrial films, etc) to critique American culture.
William Christenberry's photographs (William Christenberry Photographs, 1961-2005) and talk at MassArt, while being different from Conner, have a somewhat similar sensibility. His interest in the vernacular architecture of Hale County, Alabama seems to mirror Conner's use of found materials. Both create art from what is discarded or overlooked. They find beauty (or in the case of Conner, humor and mystery as well) in things most people wouldn't notice. In Christenberry's work, it's a subtle beauty that stems from what he called his 'emotional involvement with vernacular architecture'. He also said you could always tell an artist who is in love with his subject. He clearly does and even though many of his photographs are made with an old Brownie camera, there is both beauty and elegance.
A few days later Gregory Crewdson spoke at MassArt and he went into great detail to describe how he makes his photographs. Working with a crew between 50 and 60 people, Crewdson makes constructed images that look like film stills. This often includes building sets, using smoke and rain machines, closing off streets, setting buildings on fire, making snow, hiring actors, etc etc. As he went on it seemed like his working process became more and more involved with not only more intricate stage sets, but massive amounts of digital post production. It felt as if it had nothing to do with photography and more to do with working with gadgets and props. Towards the end of his discussion he said he doesn't even like 'touching a camera' and that he wasn't interested in what his photographs mean. This felt like a total cop out because why would someone go to such lengths to produce these images if they weren't interested in the meaning of them (other than the obvious reality that he can sell them for lots of money)? I also felt that for all the dazzle in Crewdson's work (and technically they are pretty amazing) they leave me cold. Once I get past the technical part, there isn't much left. Just an anonymous woman sitting in a car at an intersection with the door open, for example. Wow.
For me Crewdson's work ended up feeling kind of vulgar. The idea of so much time and money being used (wasted?) to make something that is ultimately so unemotional. That when you strip away all the manufactured 'drama' you're left with but nothing but artifice. It's visual junk food. And compared with the powerful simplicity of Christenberry and Conner, the work of Crewdson feels even more empty. It seems like Crewdson has gotten so far away from actual photography and traditional image making, he's lost any connection to what he's trying to say. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about meaning.
The Harvard Film Archive had a retrospective of films by Bruce Conner (1933-2008) which were some of the most amazing things I've ever seen. He used almost entirely found footage which he edited together to create films that were hilarious, haunting, breathtaking, sad and truly unforgettable. It's like he created his own visual language out of discarded images (educational films, newsreels, b-movies, industrial films, etc) to critique American culture.
William Christenberry's photographs (William Christenberry Photographs, 1961-2005) and talk at MassArt, while being different from Conner, have a somewhat similar sensibility. His interest in the vernacular architecture of Hale County, Alabama seems to mirror Conner's use of found materials. Both create art from what is discarded or overlooked. They find beauty (or in the case of Conner, humor and mystery as well) in things most people wouldn't notice. In Christenberry's work, it's a subtle beauty that stems from what he called his 'emotional involvement with vernacular architecture'. He also said you could always tell an artist who is in love with his subject. He clearly does and even though many of his photographs are made with an old Brownie camera, there is both beauty and elegance.
A few days later Gregory Crewdson spoke at MassArt and he went into great detail to describe how he makes his photographs. Working with a crew between 50 and 60 people, Crewdson makes constructed images that look like film stills. This often includes building sets, using smoke and rain machines, closing off streets, setting buildings on fire, making snow, hiring actors, etc etc. As he went on it seemed like his working process became more and more involved with not only more intricate stage sets, but massive amounts of digital post production. It felt as if it had nothing to do with photography and more to do with working with gadgets and props. Towards the end of his discussion he said he doesn't even like 'touching a camera' and that he wasn't interested in what his photographs mean. This felt like a total cop out because why would someone go to such lengths to produce these images if they weren't interested in the meaning of them (other than the obvious reality that he can sell them for lots of money)? I also felt that for all the dazzle in Crewdson's work (and technically they are pretty amazing) they leave me cold. Once I get past the technical part, there isn't much left. Just an anonymous woman sitting in a car at an intersection with the door open, for example. Wow.
For me Crewdson's work ended up feeling kind of vulgar. The idea of so much time and money being used (wasted?) to make something that is ultimately so unemotional. That when you strip away all the manufactured 'drama' you're left with but nothing but artifice. It's visual junk food. And compared with the powerful simplicity of Christenberry and Conner, the work of Crewdson feels even more empty. It seems like Crewdson has gotten so far away from actual photography and traditional image making, he's lost any connection to what he's trying to say. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about meaning.
10/6
One of the things I've heard over and over from certain faculty members is to 'get out of your comfort zone'. This has always bugged me and continues to do so because the assumption made by these people is that I/you/we are in fact 'in a comfort zone' or have been doing the same thing artistically over and over and over for years. We have never ever tried anything new. How would any of these people actually know what our respective comfort zones are? What also makes this cliche 'get out of your comfort zone' infuriating is that often these same faculty members have either been doing the same thing themselves for years or recommend other artists who have (Cindy Sherman, The Becher's etc).
They also seem to think that by simply using a new film or shooting color/b&w instead of what you're currently doing is the answer. For me, getting out of the so-called comfort zone is to do a different kind of photography than what you normally do. Not just change film and/or move to color but do something that makes you actually look at something new or have a different approach visually. If you continue to shoot the same kinds of things but just in black and white instead of color (or vice versa) how does that really change anything? You simply become proficient with another technique while doing the very same thing.
Right now I'm in the early stages of something that has made me as uncomfortable as I've ever been. I'm photographing total strangers on the street in the city where I live. That alone wouldn't be too difficult except in my case most of these people are new immigrants and many of them don't speak English or are initially skeptical as to why this white guy wants to take their photograph. So each time I want to take someone's portrait I have to ask their permission and explain why I'm doing what I'm doing. Every single time. It takes all my nerve to sometimes just leave the house, let alone approach total strangers. But, when I get permission and when these portraits work out well, it's an exhilarating experience. Worth every rejection and every uncomfortable moment along the way.
They also seem to think that by simply using a new film or shooting color/b&w instead of what you're currently doing is the answer. For me, getting out of the so-called comfort zone is to do a different kind of photography than what you normally do. Not just change film and/or move to color but do something that makes you actually look at something new or have a different approach visually. If you continue to shoot the same kinds of things but just in black and white instead of color (or vice versa) how does that really change anything? You simply become proficient with another technique while doing the very same thing.
Right now I'm in the early stages of something that has made me as uncomfortable as I've ever been. I'm photographing total strangers on the street in the city where I live. That alone wouldn't be too difficult except in my case most of these people are new immigrants and many of them don't speak English or are initially skeptical as to why this white guy wants to take their photograph. So each time I want to take someone's portrait I have to ask their permission and explain why I'm doing what I'm doing. Every single time. It takes all my nerve to sometimes just leave the house, let alone approach total strangers. But, when I get permission and when these portraits work out well, it's an exhilarating experience. Worth every rejection and every uncomfortable moment along the way.
9/14
It's a little tricky coming to terms with trying to do a documentary type photo project (in this case street portraits in the city of Chelsea, MA where I live) since it seems that this kind of work is discouraged in MFA programs. That somehow, documentary work is no longer valid; especially portraiture. This goes against much of what I believe in, since so much photography now leaves me cold and so much portraiture feels contrived. the overly produced, highly stylized imagery that feels closer to commercial photography than art photography. It also feels cold and distant, and so often there seems to be no connection between the artist and subject. Where the people photographed appear more like specimens.
This contradicts a lot of the art that I have always responded to, especially photography. I recently saw the documentary film, 'Man on Wire' and it was fantastic. A simple film about the French high wire walker who walked between the twin towers in 1974. There was something incredibly powerful and moving in just seeing the still photographs of him up high between the towers or lying down on the wire. It gave me chills and made me realize, once again, how intensely interested I am in photographing the world around me. Other people can take care of the self portraits or the intimate portraits of family members, I want to go out and look at the unknown and the unfamiliar. I'm more interested in the real than in the conceptual. Todd Papageorge (director of Yale's graduate program in photography) addresses this by saying, 'there's a failure to understand how much richer in surprise and creative possibility the world is for photographers in comparison to their imagination'.
This contradicts a lot of the art that I have always responded to, especially photography. I recently saw the documentary film, 'Man on Wire' and it was fantastic. A simple film about the French high wire walker who walked between the twin towers in 1974. There was something incredibly powerful and moving in just seeing the still photographs of him up high between the towers or lying down on the wire. It gave me chills and made me realize, once again, how intensely interested I am in photographing the world around me. Other people can take care of the self portraits or the intimate portraits of family members, I want to go out and look at the unknown and the unfamiliar. I'm more interested in the real than in the conceptual. Todd Papageorge (director of Yale's graduate program in photography) addresses this by saying, 'there's a failure to understand how much richer in surprise and creative possibility the world is for photographers in comparison to their imagination'.
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