NORA LANDES ASKS, “IS THERE LIFE ON MARS?”

When we look at a photograph of a Martian crater sent to Earth by one of the NASA rovers, we claim to know something about the distant planet where this photograph was taken. We believe so devoutly in photographic truth that we allow it to serve as a prosthetic for human experience. It is with blind faith that we rely so heavily on the confirmatory power of our eyes; so much, in fact, that in this age of technical images, we often take for granted just what it is we are looking at. At its most basic level, the digital photograph in front of us is an arrangement of pixels, bits, and bytes. The image we perceive is little more than a collage of information, and a fictitious one at that.

What happens to a digital image in the liminal space between point A and point B? It is only in the human mind computer that the millions of data particles, fractured and reconstructed during the process of transmission, are compressed, analyzed, and imbued with any coherence. Digital photographs are traces of this process of data abstraction. What they present to the viewer is merely an illusion of representation.

We have come to falsely equate data with knowledge. If, where digital media are concerned, data is not reliably representative of the subject it is meant to convey, what does it show us? It is this idea that Nora Landes explores in the images which comprise her recent body of work Is There Life on Mars?. Her pieces consider the unknowable void between the process of creating a digital image and the final product, calling into question the validity of the medium itself. Using a scanner to track the movement of Mylar and other reflective or iridescent materials, Landes seeks to harness, even emphasize, the abstraction at the core of digital art. Her work does not conform to the notion that an artistic product is the end result of a process, but rather attempts to solidify that which is gestural, fleeting, and immaterial.

As ephemeral as her images appear, their substance is firmly planted in material. Although her images look as if they might be created by manipulating Photoshop or a code glitch, they are, in fact, a direct, physical response to the materials which inspire her. In this way, they seem almost to spoof the genre of digital art itself. Yet at the same time, what makes the greatest impact in her images are those elements which do not exist as material. Motion, reflection, light, and time are the true subject matter of her work, even more so than Mylar, bubble wrap, and origami paper. Landes’s exploitation of the simultaneous intersection and juxtaposition of the illusory and the experiential is the result of the messy translation from physical, to digital, and back again.


Published on museemagazine.com, April 6, 2016

http://museemagazine.com/uncategorized/nora-landes-asks-life-mars/

BUNNY YEAGER: FUNNY BUNNY

Look out, Jack Frost! The North Pole has gotten hot hot hot. This year even Santa has been a little naughty. What’s Ole Saint Nick got in his sleigh this year? Here’s a hint: it’s already unwrapped. A pair of full, perky breasts seemingly in defiance of gravity; a carefully controlled, concave waist, an ideal nook for one’s, or another’s, hands; hips thrust back leading down, down, down to a set of magical legs polished off with perfectly pointed toes. And those eyes! Those eyes shatter the illusion of personal space as she gives you that look that turns your heart uptempo. Top it off with a cherry red cap and woo-ee!, you’ve got enough heat to keep you warm ’til spring.

Ok. We got that out of our systems. Bunny Yeager’s photographs of pin-up girls and mid-century sex symbols are exactly that: images of busty bombshells in all their bikini-clad and topless glory. Go ahead and peruse the curves of Bettie Page’s body as you contemplate the impracticality of being totally bare-assed between two live leopards. Who cares? Self-preservation be damned. These women somehow manage to look perfect; their hair set and cheeks rouged amid crashing waves, holding the leash of some exotic animal, a lei strategically draped over a errant nipple. With every image comes the same thought: humina humina. Before long we lose interest in the models themselves; their womanly frames fade to nothing more than plasticine caricatures of ladytron perfection.

The more we gaze at each photo, the more we become aware that each angle of the hips is perfectly drafted to maximize hourglass figures and that, somehow, throwing physics into the wind, the tumultuous sea air blows her coif into a radiant, sun-drenched halo. Yeager’s subjects are beautiful in their own right; this much is obvious, but it cannot be enough. Natural beauty does not make a captivating photograph on its own. Now it is the photographer we are attracted to. What is behind, more than in front of, the camera makes us swoon. Who better to capture these sumptuous models on film than one of their own?

Yeager herself had a successful career as a model and was a regular on the Florida beauty pageant circuit. It was through this channel that she entered the world of photography. Looking to inflate her modeling portfolio, she took matters into her own hands and began shooting self-portraits, the final product always in direct correlation to her own self-definition. The same woman in front and behind the camera. Her self-portraits present an introspective vision of female identity untouched by the taint of society’s patriarchal standards. Even in her photographs of other women Yeager still occupies both positions. After first photographing her in 1954, Yeager transformed Bettie Page’s public image from performative and fetishistic to the empowered pin-up that came to subvert the genre itself. It is the photographer’s vision, her understanding of womanhood and female sexuality that is translated on film, regardless of whether her likeness is. Yeager’s photographs posses a striking femininity that transcends all the contradictory post-war images of women as either infantalized or hyper-sexualized. There is an unspoken understanding between the photographer and model which allows for a completely different type of intimacy than that which occurs between a male photographer and his female subject.

Although often featured in men’s magazine’s like Playboy, Yeager’s photographs hold little regard for men’s approval. They seem to exist outside of masculinity and its power to shape and control femininity. They are more ‘girls just wanna have fun’ than ‘girls gone wild.’ Neither pornographic nor making some sort of second-wave feminist statement about liberating our bodies from misogynistic oppression, these pictures remind us that a sexualized woman is no less in control of her own agency than a bra-burner. The view that pin-ups cannot be feminist is oppressive in itself. In Yeager’s interpretation, the pin-up genre of photography can be used as a platform to exhibit a pluralistic view of female sexuality. At once performing is both a form of entertainment and of self-expression.

The question is, how can women define sexuality in the public eye? How can they define it for themselves? Do these two definitions have common ground? An entire generation of female photographers followed in Yeager’s footsteps, looking through the lens for answers to these such questions. Dianne Arbus, Cindy Sherman, and Nan Goldin, to name just a few, were each influenced by Yeager’s dynamic affirmation of female multi-dimensionality and autonomy. Her legacy as an artist goes hand in hand with her legacy as a paradigm-shifting figure in the history of the feminist movement. Her body of work does not present the image of a liberated woman, but of a woman who needs no liberation. In one photo after another Yeager presents a subject who exists on her own terms, entirely independent of the fetters of a male-dominated society.


Published in Musée Magazine No. 13 “Women” 

2015

YASUMASA MORIMURA: WHAT A DRAG

If an image hangs on a gallery wall, and no one is around to view it, does it make an impact? When it comes down to it, images are nothing without a viewer. As if through divine transfiguration, an image becomes itself in the presence of a pair of human eyes. There is power in the gaze, not only in the act of seeing, but in the act of being seen. This in no way means that images are powerless in and of themselves. On the contrary, the power of images is an extension of all other forms of power; throughout history social, political, and religious messages were carefully cultivated to match the values of the ruling few which as a result became the values of everyone else. Of course this is the case. It has to be. It is only in recent centuries that art has become anything other than visual rhetoric, a heavy, influence-wielding instrument of worldless expression.

There exist artists even in our day who continue to revel in the megalomania of the Western art historical narrative. Yasumasa Morimura exploits the power of images to its fullest potential, gaining might from the creation and control of his own image. It seems almost contradictory that an artist who presents appropriated and reinterpreted iterations of iconic images like da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, Frida Kahlo’s surrealistic self-portraits, or Audrey Hepburn’s Holly Golightly is said to be the creator of an image all his own. Morimura borrows from art history and pop culture, using recognizable imagery as the tools of his alchemy. With make-up, costumes, and often elaborate sets, he conjures up self-portraits that tap into the collective recollection of the Western world as presented through works of art and famous figures.

But these costumes are not disguises. These sets are not hiding places. Rather than defining his photographs by what they are, it is easier to define them by what they are not. They are not copies of famous images, nor are they merely works of admiration, and they are certainly not caricatures. When considered as a whole his “Daughter of Art History,” “Actresses,” and “Requiem” series act as a single body which builds upon the foundation of a Western cultural context, only to then burn it to the ground. Within each image is a message that is uniquely his. It is not he but the art historical narrative that is transformed with each frame.

It is by presenting these classic images, ones with which his audience is certainly familiar, that Morimura is able to transcend them. Playing to our collective cultural experiences, he effectively wipes the canvas clean and renders irrelevant the specifics of the images. It matters little whether he places himself in the sunlit room of a Vermeer painting or on the back of a motorcycle à la Brigitte Bardot; all we see is the artist himself, front and center, as the subject of each photograph and the object of the viewer’s gaze. Visibility such as this can mean vulnerability or it can mean strength. But it is more than this; who gets to be seen and how comes with its own set of Foucauldian power relations. Making himself visible makes him seen, which in the world of visual art makes him heard. The attention he commands in each of his photographs serves as a platform from which to change the rhetorical messages propagated by visual imagery throughout the history of art. In the least vain and most assertive way imaginable, he has made the entire art historical narrative about himself. For the first time a Japanese man in drag is the central figure in Western art and has claimed the power and agency to gaze back at us.

Las Meninas Renacen de Noche (Las Meninas Reborn in the Night), Morimura’s latest series, riffs upon Diego Velázquez’s painting Las Meninas, a scene already crumbling under the imbalance of gazes of its cast of characters and the struggle for control over the presentation of images. Rife with ambiguity, Velázquez’s original questions the social and physical positioning of the painted subjects and, most significantly, the viewer. Morimura tackles these same themes but expands them further still. He turns the original image into a microcosm by breaking free of the painting’s constricting frame and placing the act of looking in the museum itself. When the subjects of a work of art are no longer objects, what becomes of our relationship with images? What becomes of the speech power associated with a stagnant image? Morimura’s Las Meninas could be considered his ultimate act of illocution. It is not only what he is saying, but how he is saying it that gives significance to the work. On a most basic level, Las Meninas Renacen de Noche makes the same general statement contra the systems of power that dictate images and how we interact with them as any of his other series. Yet by stepping outside the defined framework of a painting on a wall, Morimura challenges not only how we see images in the world, but how we see others and ourselves. In his eyes, he is creator and viewer, subject and object, medium and message; but most of all, when it comes to his own image, he is totally in control.


Published in Musée Magazine No. 11, “Vanity”

2014

THE THING ITSELF AT YANCEY RICHARDSON GALLERY

Just when we thought we were beginning to understand the medium of photography, The Thing Itself at Yancey Richardson Gallery strips us of all certainty of understanding. In our digitally instantaneous age, photography finds itself at a crossroads; what was once a certifiably material process has been transformed into one in which it is possible to have no physical or temporal qualities whatsoever. Film, darkroom, and print have been replaced, or at least transformed, by the widespread use of digital technology.

Under these circumstances, how are we to define photography? This is precisely the question behind The Thing Itself. In this summer group show, artists like Laurie Simmons, Kenneth Josephson, Matt Lipps, Bertien van Manen, and others explore photography itself as subject matter. These are meta-photographs. Each image is self-referential, bringing attention to its own making while at the same time challenging it at its very core. The images in this show present the intersection between the analog and digital worlds. Many refer to the physicality of camera hardware, photo paper, and vintage photographs, while others are composites of analog images or digital manipulations of the pages of an old darkroom manual. The underlying message, one of the impact of technology on visual art, is expressed through the art object.

Technology has changed the way photographers work and the work they produce. This is not to say that photography has transformed into an entirely new medium, or that the photographic object no longer has a place in the art world. Rather, the object, that is, the print we see hanging on the white gallery wall, is of increasing importance in the age of digital photography. Oftentimes the print is the only material element of an artist’s photographic process. It is a strange contradiction: the physical object serves to convey that materiality has been rendered insignificant in contemporary photography. Physical objects are all we have to signify the increasing distance between modern life and traditional art forms. Simultaneously, these photographs emphasize the continual evolution of the photographic medium.


Published on museemagazine.com 
2014

LOUISE LAWLER: LIVING PICTURES

Louise Lawler has spent over thirty years creating portraits of artworks. Like any human subject, every work of art posses a unique identity and personality that can be captured in a photograph. They live their lives like any other subject, in physical space and continuous time. The lucky ones have a home and people who love and care for them, and still there are others who are not as lucky. They are influenced by circumstances outside of themselves. They have a history that long predates them and a future that will continue on with or without them. They are affected by their surroundings and take on wholly different identities at different stages of existence.

Lawler’s photographs capture artworks as they exist in a particular space and in their present moment. Each image is a document of an ever-changing life and highlights the individual experiences that remind the viewer that paintings, sculptures, and other art objects are continually works in progress. In each photograph Lawler perfectly encapsulates the quiet peacefulness of a private, candid moment. Each of her hand-crafted subjects is depicted in the one moment when it exists not merely as an object of admiration, but instead as a dignified, autonomous individual in the world.

Lawler literally takes the viewer into the world of art. Gallery walls, cluttered living rooms, and storage shelves are featured just as prominently in her photographs as the artworks themselves. Art does not live in a vacuum. Rather, Lawler’s work presents a view of art that is ignored far too often: art as a fully-functioning member of the larger society. In her photographs art objects are shown in homes, in museums, and in the hands of those who handle them. Not only do artworks live they are a part of life. It is through Lawler’s lens that art loses its timelessness. It is easy to forget that, like us, art is subject to change. Yet in Lawler’s photographs time stands still and all we are left with is a remnant of the here and now – art for a moment.


Published in Musée Magazine No. 9, “Temptation” 
2014

NEW ROMANTICISM AT ROCKAWAY! PRESENTED BY MOMA PS1

As the culmination of their contribution to the restoration of the Rockaways, MoMA PS1 has organized Rockaway!, a free public arts festival at For Tilden with an accompanying group exhibition at the Rockaway Beach Surf Club. Conceived of by MoMA PS1 Director Klaus Biesenbach in close collaboration with musician, writer, and artist Patti Smith, both of whom own homes in the Rockaways, Rockaway! Is a gift to an area that has recently experienced so much loss.

Three trains and a bus for a total of almost two hours of travel; my art-seeking pilgrimage from my northwestern Brooklyn neighborhood brings me to the Rockaways. Away from the urban shelter of concrete buildings and Mister Softee©, I find myself completely surrounded by water. Jamaica Bay to the north, the sprawling Atlantic Ocean to the south. The waves glimmer majestically on this clear, breezy day at Fort Tilden in Gateway National Recreation Area, a beautiful stretch of beachside parkland. Equal parts land and sea: a glorious wonder of the natural world.

A year and a half ago nature waged war on the Rockaways. Yet even Fort Tilden, the former U.S. Army outpost, could not fend off this aggressor. When Hurricane Sandy made landfall on October 29, 2012 it decimated this area. 18,950 homes were damaged, some destroyed, and almost 100,000 residents were displaced for weeks. The land was battered. Debris littered the beaches and parks as downed trees, drywall, and water-logged mattresses accumulated by the dozens. In a matter of days, nature exposed of the hubris of settling on a glorified sandbank. The mental and physical security of the people had been stripped away.

Today on this sunny, early summer afternoon Fort Tilden stands as the resilient stronghold it once was. Its buildings and grounds restored, today it hosts thousands of people in their vast array are gathered in celebration of the renewal of the Rockaways. Not Rockaway, but Rockaway! – exclamation point. There is a new energy here, one has been absent from the Rockaways since before the hurricane.

In so much as Rockaway! is the story of the resilience of a community, it is Patti Smith who acts as storyteller. Having bought her home just months before Hurricane Sandy hit, Smith and her home experienced much of the same damage as her fellow Rockaway residents. In the wake of the storm Smith saw her neighbors sifting through the destruction in search of their belongings, many of which had been destroyed, and grasping for some sense of comfort. It is with this in mind that Smith developed her site-specific installations at Fort Tilden. Groundedness, the constant search for permanence in a changing world; all of these ideas come together in Smith’s installation The Resilience of the Dreamer, a gilded four post canopy bed dressed with pristine white linens that will deteriorate over time because of exposure to the elements. Despite being in an abandoned, debris-ridden building that lacks both windows and part of its roof, the piece will remain rooted in place. Smith has said that The Resilience of the Dreamer is a metaphor for the Rockaways; that even though people are rebuilding and creating anew, we are interminably at the whim of nature. We have no choice but to yield to its power. Like the festival itself, the piece nods to the resilience and courage of those who suffer at the hand of nature.

Rockaway! is more than just a metaphor for creation and renewal, it embodies these concepts. With art as the catalyst, MoMA PS1 has reestablished the delicate equilibrium between man and nature. Rockaway! unites individuals with the natural world and individuals with one another. It is a reclamation of, and reconciliation with nature.


Published on museemagazine.com

2014

STEVEN KLEIN: TOP OF HIS BENT

The International Center for Photography is the latest victim to fall under Steven Klein’s alluring spell. The recipient of ICP’s 2014 Infinity Award for fashion photography, Klein has created a name for himself by combining sex with just about everything else. He transforms Dolce & Gabbana ads and portrait sessions with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie into the opening scenes of classy, high-budget adult films. Any minute now and his models will be groping, pushing one another against the wall and ripping off the luxurious garments they are meant to be selling. Many of his dark, hyper-sexual images verge on sadism. They draw the viewer into a glamorous fantasy world of fetish and role play where seduction reigns supreme and style is just as good a reason to kill as anything else. Lust runs hot as supermodels and celebrities draped in designer clothes strangle the viewer with desire for flesh, fashion, and fame. The rapturous climax that results is the product of a naughty sort of pleasure. These are images that ravish and destroy.

If not too careful, one can easily fall down Klein’s tempting rabbit hole. One can either be a voyeur, standing on the edge but never crossing the border into his sumptuous fantasy, or one can accept the pleasure that comes with being a bit bad. Some of his work flows from the hyperreal to the surreal; a beautiful, naked woman and a horse swimming together in a pool, their water-logged manes flowing with the gentle current, is a tame tableau in comparison to Klein’s other images. It is nonetheless a believable part of his fantasy. One is overcome by the submissive beauty of the horse and the intensity of the woman’s stare, yet, like all of his photographs, there is a refinement to the composition that references the grace of Classical sculpture and the delicacy of post-Renaissance portraiture. Klein’s tempting images make it all too easy to fall into his fantasy.


Published in Musée Magazine No. 9, “Temptation” 
2014

TARYN SIMON: AMERICAN, FEMALE, B. 1975, BLACK HAIR

Taryn Simon’s labor-intensive artistic process begins long before she even picks up her camera. She delves into research, absorbing all the minute, gritty details of a project before finally presenting a set of images carefully sectioned into categorized grids and paired with straightforward, descriptive text. Combining photographic and textual elements, her semiotic method forces the viewer to see what she sees and to understand the particular meaning she has ascribed to her work.

Simon’s series Contraband presents the viewer only with the information the artist puts forth. Goods confiscated by the U.S. customs officials at John F. Kennedy airport in New York are photographed against neutral, gray backgrounds. This is all we see. No back-story. No identified perpetrator. No connection to a larger economic picture. The fact that these things do exist but are left unseen is as much a vital component of the work as anything else. Though Simon leaves the greater contextual meaning of the work unseen, she leads the viewer through the same process of categorization she took part in. The viewer, thus, arrives at the same conclusion as the artist.

Drugs, contaminated meat, animal corpses, fake designer handbags, and pirated movies were all brought into the United States with a purpose. Whether this purpose is to satisfy the consumerist desires of Americans, for a foreigner to bring with him into the U.S. a little piece of home, or something entirely different, it always has its roots in the need for material; the greatest gratification lies in possession. The huge stockpiles of confiscated items at JFK only prove the continued importance of physical products in this digital age. The desire of Americans to have their needs met, even by illegal copies of products that oftentimes can already be found in the United States, drives an ongoing international system of production and sale of contraband. It is a system perpetuated by the acceptance and distribution of copies as well as the false notion that demand necessitates supply and justifies importation. Counterfeit Viagra only exists because there is someone in the U.S. who will buy it. Just knowing that pirated DVDs of Lost season four are out there fuels the desire both for the DVDs themselves and to continue the process of illegal production.

Simon’s pieces are not exclusively meant to highlight the items seized by customs officials depicted in her images and text. Rather, it is what is not seen or stated that she is interested in; that is, what lies in the conceptual space between the photographs and the texts. These illegal, prohibited, unlicensed, and undeclared goods occupy a non-space and a state of limbo. They stand at the threshold of America and all it represents, yet are denied entry. What does this imply about the nature of contraband and those who participate in their production and distribution? Is it just an item’s foreign origin that classifies it as a threat to our national security, or is there a clear and present danger that calls for its detention and condemnation? Who judges and who can be judged, who makes the laws and who must abide by them? Contraband the series, like contraband itself, can be understood as a metaphor for the highly complex, international economic and social systems that continue to stimulate the desire for these goods.

Like the customs officers themselves, Simon is in control of what we can have. Contraband as a body of work functions similarly to the TSA or to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection. She controls the message; what images we see and how we classify and comprehend them is entirely at her discretion. We have no choice but to obey, all the while being tantalized by that which we cannot have.


Published in Musée Magazine No. 9, “Temptation”

2014

BRUCE DAVIDSON/ PAUL CAPONIGRO: INTERVIEW WITH CURATORS

Bruce Davidson/ Paul Caponigro: Two American Photographers in Britain and Ireland presents the works of two seminal American photographers together for the first time. Organized by Jenny Watts, Curator of Photography at the Huntington Library, and Scott Wilcox, the Chief Curator of Art Collections and Senior Curator of Prints and Drawings at the Yale Center for British Art, this exhibition focuses on the images produced by each of the photographers while working in the British Isles. Bruce Davidson/ Paul Caponigro: Two American Photographers in Britain and Ireland will be on view at the Yale Center for British Art in New Haven until September 14, then travels to the Huntington in San Marino, California from November 8 through March 9.

Here the curators discuss what inspired the exhibition and the collaborative process that brought it together.

Nora Landes: When were you first exposed to Bruce Davidson and Paul Caponigro’s work? What was your initial reaction to the work of each of these artists?

Jenny Watts: Over the years, I had been more intimately acquainted with Paul Caponigro’s photography, since the Huntington made concerted efforts to acquire his work related to California and the American West, our contemporary collecting strength. No matter the subject, Caponigro’s photographs exert a quiet power that demand attentive looking. They cannot be fully understood at a glance. This has enabled the work, at least for me, to stay relevant and fresh over time. As for Bruce’s work, I was most familiar with his East 100th Street series, which offer similar demands; they asking the viewer to enter the frame with the human subjects he so evocatively portrays.

Scott Wilcox: I had been aware of Bruce and Paul’s photographs for many years, though I must admit that I did not know Bruce’s photographs of England and Scotland until their publication by Steidl in 2006.

NL: How did you decide to put these two very different photographers and bodies of work together? In what ways do you feel they complement one another?

SW: This exhibition came about in a very particular way. At the time of the Steidl publication, one of our great supporters and donors, Henry Hacker, who knows Bruce, suggested that we acquire this body of work and helped us in doing so. We knew we wanted to mount an exhibition. It was the idea of our director, Amy Meyers, to pair Bruce’s work with that of Paul, whom she had known and worked with in her prior position as Curator of American Art at the Huntington. Bruce and Paul each represent a key strand in American photography, and to see those very different visions trained on the British landscape and people throws the photography of each into sharper relief.

NL: What do you think Davidson and Caponigro’s photographs express about the British Isles? How does their American identity contribute to the point of view? Is it distinctly American?

SW: Although they were looking for different things and responding to different kinds of subject matter, each brought a freshness of vision; in Bruce’s case a certain insouciance and in Paul’s case a formal rigor.

JW: Each man’s identity as an American, particularly in regard to their photographic training and praxis, has everything to do with their point of view. Both artists rose up through distinctly different American streams of photography: Bruce as a trained photojournalist with the Magnum agency and Paul as a student of Minor White with his inheritance in the f64 school of sharp focus, nature-inflected work that venerated the finished print. These distinctions certainly informed their approach to making their art. In addition, Paul was influenced by the strains of religious mysticism in vogue in American society in the 1950s and 1960s, including Zen Buddhism and the teachings of George Ivanovich Gurdjieff. Bruce embraced the then-radical aesthetic of Swiss photographer Robert Frank, whose autobiographical and inherently pessimistic vision took a certain branch of the American photo community by storm.

NL: Considering the photographs in “Bruce Davidson/Paul Caponigro: Two American Photographers in Britain and Ireland” were created not by British artists but Americans, how do these images relate to the mission of the Yale Center for British Art?

SW: It has always been important to us at the Yale Center for British Art to consider the art of Britain in the broadest international context. This includes not only British artists working around the globe, but foreign artists working in Britain, responding to the landscape and people of Britain. The interface between British traditions of image-making and those of other cultures is a topic of fundamental interest to us. The Center’s collections contain many works by American artists who have been active in England from John Singleton Copley and Benjamin West in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries and James McNeill Whistler in the later nineteenth century to R.B. Kitaj in the twentieth century.

NL: Why bring this exhibition to the Huntington?

JW: This institution holds one of this country’s great collections devoted to British history, literature, and art; each compelling interests of Mr. Huntington himself. We also have a robust photography program dedicated to research and exhibition across the full range of our holdings, numbering close to a million images. Finally, we have close ties with the Yale Center for British Art, which we consider a like-minded sister institution. The chance to exhibit these two artistic virtuosos, each of whom has spent 60 years dedicated to his craft, offered a tantalizing opportunity that dovetailed with our scholarly and exhibition agendas.

NL: In what capacity did the two of you co-curate? How did you blend your knowledge and expertise?

JW: Scott and I began working on this project in 2009 when I accompanied my husband to Yale for his year-long sabbatical. I am a dyed-in-the-wool Americanist with an expertise in the history of photography, so I brought that knowledge and training to bear. Scott has an extraordinary grasp of British art and aesthetics that was fundamental to understanding the context in which both of these contemporary artists operated.

SW: Jenny as a photography curator has a wealth of experience and expertise that is far beyond my own, and a knowledge of the photographic scene in America in the twentieth century that was crucial in placing Paul and Bruce’s work in that important context. I was able to provide a sense of how these photographs fit within longstanding traditions of representing Britain and Ireland. I must say that Jenny was an ideal collaborator. Our approaches to the project and our tastes were so closely aligned.

NL: Why do you think photography is an important medium?

JW: For me the power of photography comes down to its democratic impulse and its immediacy. I work with a broad range of photographers and photographic traditions, from the commercial to the amateur and the artist to the unknown. While artists like Davidson and Caponigro bring a rigor to both the process and the outcome that sets the work apart, photographs from all quarters, even the most unlikely, have the power to move and inform and help us ask questions in a way few other mediums can.


Published on museemagazine.com
2014

CHRISTOPHER WILLIAMS “THE PRODUCTION LINE OF HAPPINESS” AT MOMA

The images in Christopher Williams’s retrospective “The Production Line of Happiness” at New York’s Museum of Modern Art are not accompanied by titles or descriptions of any kind, nor are they arranged in any perceivable order. His photographs of run-of-the-mill consumer products, models at awkward angles, and photographic equipment spliced in half to reveal their inner workings are beautiful in their execution, yet no individual piece or series can be singled out as spectacular. To the untrained eye, Williams’s photographs are mundane. They present pop cultural imagery that we have passively come to accept as part of our lives. What, then, is the point of these photographs that we neither relate to directly nor connect with emotionally?

It quickly becomes obvious that the viewer is somehow being kept out of the loop. There is something behind these indifferent photographs that we do not and cannot understand without further explanation. Even the exhibition catalog provides minimal insight into the works, instead opting for only a Yellow Pages-like listing of Williams’s signature long and detailed titles of his photographs and films.

The only element of the exhibition that cues the viewer in to a deeper meaning is a half-cut-off piece of text referencing author and playwright Bertolt Brecht printed in a corner of the gallery space. If there is one thing to know about Christopher Williams as an artist, it is that everything about his work, including its curatorial organization, is intentional. He makes use of visual conventions from advertising, fashion, and still life to create his own unique oeuvre that pushes the boundaries of even the most well-established genres. His work, as benign as the images may appear, comments on the conventional nature of the medium of photography; each photograph is a critique of photography itself. Like Brecht,Williams makes his viewer aware of his chosen medium, creating a separation between the reality of the work and our own experiential reality. It is of little significance for either man to relate to how we live our lives; this is beside the point. Rather, the goal is to make the viewer aware of the reality we have come to know. It could be argued that Williams’s photographs are cliché, and worthy of little more than a brief pass.

Herein lies his intention. The imagery itself, be it a stack of candy bars or a dishwasher filled with red dishes, is somewhat arbitrary from the viewer’s point of view. It is the thought behind the image and its ultimate execution that matters. It is function over form. Trained among John Baldessari, Michael Asher, and other members of the first wave of West Coast Conceptual artists during the 1970s at the CalArts, he and his contemporaries sought to critique both visual and institutional forms.The result transcends the visual and enters the realm of philosophy. Photography is only a means to an end.


Published on museemagazine.com 
2014