Showing posts with label John Gossage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Gossage. Show all posts
5.08.2013
The Image: Ron Jude, from the series "Nausea"
I took this photograph in the early 1990s, probably late-1991. I was midway through my graduate studies and I had just had breakthroughs on a couple of fronts. One of my professors had recommended that I read Nausea, by Jean-Paul Sartre because of the way I talked about my pictures in critiques. Reading this book had a tremendous impact on the way I thought about how pictures can function. This novel isn’t about pictures, but it crystallized my ideas about why I wanted to look at things in photographs. This all sounds terribly academic, but in an odd way this epiphany freed me from the kind of narrow academic thinking that was pervasive in photography in the late 80s and early 90s.
The other important breakthrough was a visual one. In early 1991 I took a train up to Washington, D.C. from Louisiana to pay John Gossage a visit in his studio. I brought a portfolio of prints that included mostly "good, but utterly uninteresting photographs" as John put it. At the bottom of the pile was a single print that I included because I liked it, but I wasn't sure why. The image had a muddy color palette, narrow focus, and didn’t seem to be trying too hard make a discernable point. John lit up when he saw it and said, "yes, now this one surprises me." He sent me home with a Joachim Brohm catalog, a book of Raymond Carver short stories and an invigorated sense of what sort of pictures I wanted to make.
For the next year or so I lurked around public schools in Baton Rouge, photographing through windows, down corridors, and looking at the oppressive architecture of institutionalized learning. My attitude about photography completely shifted in a few short months. My goal was no longer to make pictures that were "good," but to make pictures that were messy, difficult, surprising and, as Mr. Gossage likes to say, "slightly annoying." I wanted to make pictures that teetered at the edge of mannerism, but never lost their footing in reality. This, I think, is an example of such a picture.
- Ron Jude
Tags:
John Gossage,
Ron Jude
1.29.2013
Reading Shortlist 1.29.13
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| © Christopher Makos, Andy with SX-70 and Konica, undated |
The Reading Shortlist is an occasional post with an eclectic listing of recommended readings and links. A recommendation does not necessarily suggest an agreement with the contents of the post. For previous shortlists, please visit the site links page.
Heavy on videos this time. On the shortlist:
Gianpaolo Arena, Landscape Stories, Steve Bisson. Bisson, founder and editor of Urbanautica, shares his thoughts on the state of and future of landscape photography in this short interview from 2010.
Coburn Dukehart, NPR Picture Show, What It Feels Like To Be Photographed In A Moment Of Grief. The article provides a good moment for photographers to make some decisions - before finding themselves in the situation - about their stance on making images in moments of grief and also on making street portraits without permission more generally.
Bryan Formhals, LPV Magazine, Lick Creek Line by Ron Jude. Formhals explores the evolution of his strong reaction to Lick Creek Line.
David Hockney, Louisiana Channel, Photoshop is boring. Hockney raises an interesting question: is Photoshop creating a "stale" look in photography? Includes an awkward bondage conversation at the end.
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| © David Hockney, Composite Polaroid 31 1/2" x 24 1/2" |
Monte Peckham, American Suburb X, INTERVIEW: "A Conversation Between Lewiz Baltz and John Gossage" A free-flowing conversation about cinema as the pre-eminent art form of the 20th century, The Pond, the relationship between photography and linguistics, and how - for both photographers - the subject of the work is the person looking at it.
Polaroid SX-70 promotional video. The SX-70, introduced in 1972, is fully explored and explained in this video. The SX-70 was used, among others, by David Hockney, Ansel Adams, and Walker Evans. Not going to buy the soundtrack to this video, however.
Viviane Sassen, Quality Matters. Sassen talks about her process in this short video, from editing to photobooks. "You can easily make or break a book with design."
Stanley Wolukau-Wanambwa, The Great Leap Sideways, Beauty as Bitter Fruit: Susan Worsham’s By The Grace of God. Wolukau-Wanambwa deciphers what it is about the images of Worsham that pull us in so far.
1.26.2013
Interview: Doug DuBois, Part I
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| © Doug DuBois, studio at MacDowell Colony |
This is a different type of interview, a summary of several conversations extended over six weeks with current Guggenheim Fellow Doug DuBois while he works at the MacDowell Colony to turn his photographic series titled My Last Day at Seventeen into a book.
This is the first of two posts that will follow DuBois through his process of editing and sequencing images for the book, providing a window into his ideas and working methods. Images and additional information provided by DuBois will augment the three posts.
My Last Day at Seventeen is comprised of portraits, staged tableaus and spontaneous photographs made over a period of four summers in a small housing estate in the town of Cobh, County Cork, Ireland. The images as a whole speak about coming of age in Ireland during the current economic downturn. For some background on his project, take a few minutes to watch a clip about My Last Day at Seventeen on the program Imeall (Gaelic for "The Edge") on Ireland's TG4 and also read through "Snapshots from the rough edges" by Aidan Dunne in the Irish Times. Some of the images from the project can also be found here.
DuBois teaches at Syracuse University and at the International Limited Residency Program at the Hartford Art School. His work has been shown in numerous solo and group exhibitions, including shows at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, The Museum of Modern Art and Higher Pictures in New York and galleries in Europe and Japan. His images belong to the permanent collections of The Museum of Modern Art and The San Francisco Museum of Art as well as many others. In addition to the Guggenheim, he now has received two MacDowell Colony residencies, a National Endowment for the Arts Visual Artist Fellowship, a Yaddo Fellowship, and a Light Work Grant in Photography among other awards and grants. A monograph of his photographs titled ...All the Days and Nights was published by Aperture in 2009.
He arrived at MacDowell on December 21st and the first two conversations summarized here in this post took place on December 30th and January 2nd. Bracketed text inside of quotes represent an approximation of DuBois' words...our Skype connections have not always been ideal and the audio recordings of the conversations reflect that.
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| © Doug DuBois, Adams Studio at MacDowell Colony |
BACKGROUND
DuBois was also at MacDowell Colony in 2003. During that initial residency, he worked for the first time on editing a book of photographs, beginning work on what eventually would become ...All the Days and Nights.
Before he began his first residency at MacDowell, he sought out the advice of Jim Goldberg and others about their editing process and spent a month in his studio at MacDowell culling single frames from hundreds of contact sheets and arranging them in what he thought was a coherent sequence. When DuBois left, however, he says the book dummy he produced was "an absolute piece of shit. It was terrible." The reason? He didn’t realize how critical it was to test edits and sequences by showing the maquette to others. At MacDowell he got caught up alone in his thoughts; when he began to share it, he realized it made little sense. He had to start over. He says, though, it wasn't time wasted: "You have to let yourself make a really bad book, with some reeeeeally bad edits and sequences. It’s very important." He doesn’t expect to have the book finished upon leaving this time, just to have something. Changes will continue as he starts to show the first copy of the maquette after his residency.
The images from My Last Day at Seventeen were made over four consecutive summers. As a photographer he cycles between periods of shooting and editing, and as a self-professed poor multi-tasker, he typically works on one project at a time. He carried a Mamiya 7, Mamiya RZ, a 4x5 view camera, a DSLR, and lights, using the four cameras interchangeably based on the situation. The digital camera served largely to test lighting and take snapshots.
I asked how he decided it's time to put down the cameras and craft the book. How is he sure he has the images he needs at this point and that the book will come together?
He responds:
One of the signs, not the only sign, but one of the signs of when a project is nearing completion is that you begin to repeat images. It’s like, 'Oh yeah, I've already made that picture'...I also felt I was wearing out my welcome. The first time in the neighborhood I was a somewhat exotic American with a camera - either that or a fuckin' perv which I was called repeatedly during my first few weeks there - and I could kind of milk that, people were nice to me because I was a visitor and interested in their lives. When I returned each summer, I entered the fabric and the rhythms of the neighborhood, which was good, but I also became a pain in the ass. 'Oh fuck, here comes that American, he’s going to want to take pictures.' You know? And I could see that people sometimes tried to avoid me. Also it was hard to ask the Sirius Arts Centre in Cobh, who had originally invited me for a month-long residency in 2009, to put me up in their artists' apartment for 5 or 6 weeks each summer. After four years of this, I think I hold the record for their longest residency. I was incredibly fortunate that the director, Peg Amison, the staff and members of the Irish Arts Council remained generous, helpful, and enthusiastic about the project for so long.With shooting finished, then, DuBois arrives at MacDowell to make the images into a book.
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| © Doug DuBois, Sign-in board, Adams Studio |
REFERENCES
I ask DuBois about the books and other reference material he's brought to MacDowell and he quickly mentions Ron Jude's Lick Creek Line, citing how Jude smartly plays with time and sequence in the book, Viviane Sassen's Parasomnia for its activation of the page itself by running images beyond one page onto the next, as well as Alec Soth, Mark Steinmetz, Jackie Nickerson, Susan Lipper, and John Gossage because they make great books.
A number of the books he has brought with him are there because he likes how the photographers have fit the rectangles of the photographs inside the rectangle of the page. And when a book has a shape and size that feels right, he measures. Why reinvent the wheel?
He subsequently sent an email with his complete list of reference materials:
Photo Books:
Ron Jude: Lick Creek Line, Emmet
Jackie Nickerson: Faith
Viviane Sassen: Parasomnia
Mark Power: The Sound of Two Songs
John Gossage: The Pond
Alec Soth: Sleeping by the Mississippi
Susan Lipper: Grapevine
Mark Steinmetz: South Central
Christian Patterson: Redheaded Peckerwood
Tobias Zielony: Trona: Armpit of America
Gregory Halpern: A
Thomas Struth: Stanger and Friends
Ken Schles: Oculus
Chris Killip: Seacoal
Christophe Agou: In the Face of Silence
J. Carrier: Elementary Calculus
Leonie Hampton: In the Shadow of Things
Other Books:
Claire Keegan: Antartica, Walk in the Blue Fields, Foster
The Granta Book of the Irish Short Story
Tod Papageorge: Core Curriculum
Michael Fried: Why Photography Matters as Art as Never Before
Ariella Azoulay: The Civil Contract of Photography
MacDowell reading – poems of Honor Moore
Music:
My hard drive w/ 90 gigs -- Lots of jazz, Bach, Brazilian, Latin, whatever…
Films:
Watching what I can from the MacDowell Library
Natalia Almada: El Velador, El General
Dee Rees: Pariah
Lots of Jem Cohen
FIRST DAYS AND GENERAL WORKING PROCESS
Using what he learned during his first residency, DuBois comes to MacDowell with all of his contact sheets scanned at a resolution that allows him to pull any frame he wants and drop it into a page-layout program – he uses InDesign to create scaled down page spreads to fit on 8 1/2" x 11" paper.
Even though he hasn’t had an extended opportunity to engage with the images, he has been loosely, but consistently, editing the scanned negatives in Lightroom over the four years he has been shooting the project. He has already gone back and looked for any missed possibilities and the last pass almost doubled the number of images under consideration. Four years has changed how he views the original images significantly.
DuBois has the clearance to use the images he's working with. He built up a good level of trust with his subjects and informally involved them in decisions on which images to include in a recent exhibition at the Sirius Arts Centre, just a short walk from the neighborhood where most of the work was shot. He also brought back images every summer, giving away 100s of prints and gauging reactions. Because he was working with minors and outside of the United States, he secured the necessary releases and talked to the parents and adults involved with their lives.
His first step at MacDowell is to take three days to print out a modest-sized image of absolutely every photograph he’s thinking about using - 100s of images - on an HP color laser printer he’s brought, which he says is cheaper and faster than using an inkjet.
When the prints are done, he makes about 25 piles of the images based on very obvious, denotative criteria – such as Roisin, Kevin, Eirn, and other various people – just so he can find the images. Then DuBois starts to play with the images, and they go in and out of their original piles as he begins to edit.
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| © Doug DuBois, Image piles |
With the images laid out on table, he can work quickly, shifting images around. The playing is a kind of "indulgence." He says, "Maybe it's like a writer trying to write everyday: you just do it, and you try not to think too hard about it." He has an eight-foot table and plenty of wall-space to work with the images. Given that in Lightroom he can fluidly and easily group images together as "collections" and then print out the collections as contact sheets for reference - for example "fights," "houses," or "close-up portraits" - he doesn’t actually have to make certain piles in order to find and work with the images. Once he has a sequence he wants to hold on to, he logs the sequence on Lightroom, the images go back to their piles, and he starts again.
After three or four passes through the images and contact sheets, he told himself he's got to get beyond the "singular image." He began to print out all the frames of a given situation and to think sequentially. He obsessed on two groups of sequential images: one of a drinking spot as well as another of a bonfire. He focused on what he says will probably be a complete tangent: 70 medium format images shot at a distance – like a landscape - of a group of 15- and 16-year olds "bush drinking."
When he wants more permanence, or wants to contemplate an image or group of images for a while, he pins them to the wall and he has done so with each of the 70 frames in this sequence. [see image below] He thought of it originally as a landscape or panorama, but now he's fascinated with how the figures move through the landscape, form groups, and break apart, only to have more kids arrive and the cycle start again. One of the boys recently committed suicide and DuBois can't help but track his movement among the groups. He studies the patterns in their movement and tries to figure out how to represent them on a page. "I’m really interested in trying to do something explicitly filmic. Sequences are at the top of my head right now, and how to work sequences in a book." He considers a landscape orientation as a possible solution, even though he has more general interest in books that have a portrait orientation.
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| © Doug DuBois, Exploring a sequence of images |
In his process, DuBois goes back and forth between sequenced, small-print images and page layouts. The more content driven editing happens when he plays with the images on the table, looking at what photographs say next to each other. He then moves to the computer to drop the images into page spreads and look at the sequence on a more formal level. When he has a sequence of something that interests him, he prints it out to see how it reads when turning the pages.
There is a big difference, he comments, between looking at a spread and turning the page. "I can never get the rhythm from looking at a spread. I have to spit it out as a book, tape it up, and turn the page." He makes a number of tiny accordion style mini-books, just watching the rhythm of the pages as he flips through. He audibly calls out the sounds of the images as he goes to help him understand if the sequence is working. A sequence that sounds like "da-dee-da-DUM-da" might work, whereas a more even "dum-dum-da-dum-dum" might signal a sequence that’s too even and flat.
"It’s not like any of those steps are exclusive of the other, it's not like you don't think about content when you're turning the pages and all that," he says, but each part of the process tends to focus on one aspect of editing more than others.
By deciding to work with more explicitly filmic sequences he has created an interesting design challenge. How can he establish the rhythm along the page, how close should the images be to each other? Should they be on the left or right of the spread or both? Should he activate the page itself by wrapping images around the page edge? Should he consider a sequence like a flip book?
When he had a dummy of ...All the Days and Nights that he thought was very close to a finished book, he produced an accordion book to full-scale and watched how people looked at it. He noted their body language to see where they paused and to see where they moved through rapidly; it gave a lot of information about readability, pacing, and interest. When the maquette of the new book gets to a more advanced stage, he'll do the same thing.
EARLY EDITING PROGRESS AND CONSIDERATIONS
As far as quantity of images for the book, he's not thinking about it at this early stage. He's working very intuitively right now, trying to make use of everything and letting one image lead to another. By our second conversation, he already has a number of these sequences – he's 35-40 pages into a book layout. "It's likely to be this totally Baroque, overblown piece of shit, but things will be on the page. Then I'll say, 'OK, that’s working, I'm going to hold on to that, that’s NOT working, we’re going to break that up. That would be better before this...' Until I place them on a page and begin to rough things out, I’m not quite sure what it is."
Also in our second conversation, DuBois says he's feeling kind of queasy about his progress. The book has no shape yet, he still doesn't really have an end, or even really a beginning other than the bonfire sequence [discussed below] which seems like an interesting way to set things off: there’s conflict, fire, and house - all sorts of metaphors can be drawn from that combination. He's just starting to write down themes, organize images in Lightroom, and produce contact sheets that are thematic. He's done one on "house," for example, and one on "play/sports." At this point he is also focused on finding transitional images, ones that might bridge evolving themes and connect sequences.
Chronology is another point he's trying to decide how to navigate. Over the course of four years, the physical appearance of his adolescent subjects changed dramatically. How can he handle the temporal narrative structure inherent in the sequential pages of a book in relation to time passing in the images? Does he want to preserve or play with the linear age narrative? Would shuffling that narrative be unnecessarily confusing...or would it be interesting? If at the end he decides not to preserve the chronology of the images, he will need to establish another kind of thematic as the main sequencing criteria.
Photographers can edit and work like writers, DuBois suggests. Some agonize over every word, some write rapidly, getting things out and on the page to edit and refine later. At this point, he falls firmly in the second category and what he really wants is to get the images and ideas flowing early on, to "vomit out some sequences and themes." Then, during the next stages - hopefully - he will be polishing these messy fragments into a finished book.
IDEAS ON NARRATIVE AND BOOK STRUCTURE
DuBois believes narrative is inherent to the book format, which is not to say the book must present a story with a coherent plot. He suggests the photobook should be read like a book of text, not just arbitrarily paged through, and that it engages narrative in a way that is difficult to accomplish, for example, in a gallery exhibition. The narrative goal is to sustain multiple readings, remain complex, and maintain a certain ambiguity that beckons you back to the work again and again. Hopefully, he says, the most interesting and complex themes will be implicit rather than explicit, although there will be some compelling and explicit ideas that will sustain the narrative framework of the book.
In ...All the Days and Nights, DuBois says, "I was very conscious to leave key images out and allow space for the viewer to create the story. I think photographs work best that way. I've always maintained that the narrative is really located between the images. You're really trying to push the reader to think about what happens between images - to imagine, to project...to fill that space with some kind of story. Those gaps are critical."
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| © Doug DuBois, Sequence 1 (Click for full size) |
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| © Doug DuBois, Sequence 2 (Click for full size) |
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| © Doug DuBois, Sequence 3 (Click for full size) |
EARLY SEQUENCE EXAMPLE
In a PDF of a three-page spreads that DuBois sends, we can see an early attempt at a filmic sequence for My Last Day at Seventeen that he is considering as the book opening. On the first spread of the sequence, he has a single image placed on the right page, with half-an-inch from the edge of the image (purple border) to the edge of a page. The half-inch reference point is a formal device that interests him and sets a standard for the following pages. On the second spread of the sequence, on the left page DuBois has let the image move all the way to the edge of the page; on the facing page, we have two images, centered, both bleeds, one to the book gutter, one to the edge of the page, again with a half-inch space between the two. In the last page of the spread, we have the half-inch border from image to page maintained, but the image moved to the left page, leaving the right page empty. The first and last pages would be, as in the PDF spreads above, empty to serve as section breaks.
The framing of the images, the kids, and sequence all move from left to right. There's a good rhythm to the sequence, as it becomes apparent that the kids, who appear to be hugging in the first image, are actually wrestling - and moving closer and closer to the fire. DuBois is trying to figure out how to activate the gutter and also the edges, as well as how to think of the image frame itself while using the rectangle of the book. He wants to keep it dynamic.
There is a strong, singular bonfire image, below, which will appear much later in the book - at a distance from the opening sequence. He knows that he could end the 5-frame sequence with this image, the best bonfire shot, as a big, full-bleed exclamation point. If he leaves that final image separate and apart from the others, however, the sequence remains open-ended and the bonfire becomes an important thread stretched throughout the book instead of a simple prelude to the work as a whole. The idea is to have images refer to other images, both sequentially and at a distance, threading the themes and narrative of the book together.
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| © Doug DuBois, Bonfire, Russell Heights, Cobh, IRE 2011 |
Part 2 of this interview will be published in the coming weeks.
6.06.2012
Book Discussion Group Recap: John Gossage
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| © John Gossage, untitled, from the series "The Pond" 1985 |
I am joining Flak Photo and creator Andy Adams to host an online community conversation on the Flak Photo Books Facebook page focused on essays from Gerry Badger’s recently published book of essays, "The Pleasures of Good Photographs."
This public discussion provides a structured setting for expanding our understanding of the essays by reading collectively. All are welcome to join in! The conversation will continue the week of June 4th with the essay "Without Author or Art: The 'Quiet' Photograph." (page 210) A full reading schedule can be found here.
I am following up on these community conversations with posts here on fototazo that will recap a selection of the ideas we discuss. These follow-up posts will necessarily be an abbreviated selection given the length and quality of the conversation in the community discussion threads. In many cases, what arose from the conversation were questions and ideas to continue to explore, and not necessarily conclusions or consensus. My goal with these follow-up posts is to pull out threads from the weekly discussion that can be applied beyond the individual essays to inform our general understanding of the medium itself.
We began with the essay, "Literate, Authoritative, Transcendent: Walker Evans's American Photographs" and the follow-up post can be found here. We followed with the essay "A Certain Sensibility: John Gossage, the Photographer as Auteur," the subject of today's post.
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STYLE, SENSIBILITY, AND CONSISTENCY
The deepest conversation of the week focused around the leading topic of the essay: style, sensibility, and consistency. In his essay, Bager talks about the idea of working in “the style for the job” instead of working on photographic problems in a preordained stylistic manner. By doing so, he questions a requirement for stylistic consistency in an artist’s body of work. He chooses to use the word and explore the idea of “sensibility,” suggesting that an artist’s sensibility can link bodies of work and photographic responses that do not display the same style.
Photographer and educator Dawn Roe responded by writing, “I’m in agreement with Badger in that I do like thinking about stylistic tendencies as the result of a ‘response to a problem.’” She moved on to mention other elements relevant in the construction of style beyond sensibility: “Badger’s fixation on the particular sensibility seems to me to be the key element here in terms of influencing any sort of style that may be evidenced in certain images. More important still, I think, are the particular sets of circumstances surrounding the creation of each image (and subsequent editing / printing, etc.) – here, we’re talking about time / experience / memory / perception / disposition – all that good stuff.”
She questioned Badger’s suggestion that stylistic consistency necessarily means a conscious decision to gain notice as well as to brand and market oneself: “When an artist is fully committed to a particular way of seeing / thinking about the world through their overall artistic project, indeed it might be that stylistic consistency may emerge. I think especially when there is a poetic / philosophical backbone to the work – this almost insists upon a more subtle and refined approach that may appear to be and / or frankly NEED to be reductive [in their stylistic choices].”
London-based photographer Pete Massingham – like Dawn above - noted that style is defined by many other contexts than sensibility: “Stylistic appearance is affected by an array of conditions and circumstances including the artists personality, cultural background, dominant trends in art, market forces, the subject being observed - in fact just about anything you choose to think of. I do not like the word style. Style is a slippery term that tells us little beyond indicating there is a consistency of vision - whether it be strong or weak.”
He also rasied questions about Badger’s critique of the motives behind a photographer’s stylistic consistency: “As we get older and become more informed as to what form of visual vocabulary works for us, we tend to filter out those areas of earlier experimentation that do not appear useful to our individual take on the world. In the same way, we filter out the subject-matter that is no longer important to us, ‘..to progressively distill one's vision, reducing the range of subject matter and its treatment...’ as Badger states. Our engagement becomes less a concern for fragmentation, and more a concern for the whole. Whether or not these parameters are self-imposed or just the consequence of an unconscious (and perhaps inevitable) set of characteristics formed by personal histories and events, is open to debate.”
PHOTOBOOKS
Photobooks became the second major conversational topic of the week.
In the introduction to “The Pleasures of Good Photographs,” Badger writes, “It is in the photobook, in my opinion, where photography sings its loudest, most complex, and satisfying song” and in doing so suggests that distinctive sensibility of an individual photographer finds its fullest expression in photobooks.” (page 8) Massingham wrote that part of their strength is that they give a more “tactile” relationship with photography. His whole passage is worth quoting:
It is the apparent perception available through touch that is important. The computer or digital
screen is unable to fulfill this need in terms of viewing work, reducing images to a sterile albeit
accurate facsimile. While both the analogue and digital print are able to express a rich sense of
individual style and technical excellence, it is the photographic book that still seems to hold an
almost fetishistic ambience that is difficult to surpass. It can embody qualities of editorial
authorship, craft, intimacy, fact, and fiction, and seems a profoundly cogent means for reproducing
photographic works. It is I believe, the most convincing format for expressing the depth or
gravitas of the photographer's passion for the medium and subject, aside from the original works.
Within this format, there exists an unfolding, an exquisite revealment of the photographers intent
which does not communicate on a screen. It is important to recognise the value, the richness of
being able to turn a page and to be complicit in the flow of the work. The book makes you an
active participant in a way that the screen cannot and should not attempt to emulate.
Another contributor added to this, “The photobook or essay are another way for a photographer to explore his subject from multiple viewpoints and over an extended period. They allow themes to be developed and explored and the fact of producing the book, with all the design and other choices that involves, extends the photographer's control over their output...And the great additional benefit is that they are relatively so accessible.”
CURRENT GOLDEN AGE IN PHOTOBOOKS
We also started to take a look at the reasons behind the current Golden Era of photobooks: Is this to do with the book’s inherent qualities and because it allows photography to sing its “loudest, most complex, and satisfying song”? Or is it market conditions? The connection between the explosion in the number of photographers and the hunt for economical distribution methods of their work?
San Francisco-based photographer Stefan Jora responded by writing, “I think it is a combination of advances in economy (the increasingly affordable cost of producing photobooks) and society (the fact that we're becoming a more visually literate society).”
This is a subject I hope we’ll explore more when we discuss Badger’s chapter on photobooks.
STYLE IN PHOTOBOOKS
Leeds, UK-based photographer and educator Philip Welding asked an interesting question in regards to style and the photobook: “Gossage's voice or style isn't just to be looked for in his photographs, concepts etc. but is surely visible in his books? Perhaps the design of a photo book is easier to pin down than the more elusive photographic voice? Or the combination of the two?”
Is a photographer’s style, voice, or “sensibility” something more equally or more apparent in the photobook than in a photographer’s images? An interesting question...
THE COLLECTIVE STATEMENT
Gossage, writes Badger, sees photography in terms of the collective statement contained in the photobook, and not as individual statements contained by the picture frame.
Massingham responded to this by confirming, “Gossage chooses to experience and involve himself in the complete process and production of his photography - a function which is not readily available to all photographers or artists.” Dawn Roe followed by writing that Pete’s point, for her, is key and that: “We must often give up some or all control in terms of how our work is exhibited, seen on-line or even in book form depending on the context and whether it is an artist’s book, or exhibition catalog/monograph, etc. And so I’d agree that the photobook is (one area) where ‘the photograph is at its most complex’ – and so, yes, in many cases the ‘collective statement’ is more successful than the single image.”
Texas-based photographer Pugilist Press added, “I am a big believer in the collective statement...it just opens up the possibilities for the phenomenological photographer without having to go into Painter territory... A book has certain implications but it is first and foremost a container, a world unto itself, and as such it is a space where an auteur can create context through selection, sequencing, scale, and materiality.”
PACKAGING AND BRANDING
Badger writes in his essay that, “ Style equals branding, and branding means sales, so we get the fairy common phenomenon of the photographer who hits upon one extraordinary image and then repeats it, with minor variations, for the rest of his or her career.” (page 89)
I wrote that I believe that the museum-gallery world does like to package and brand artists and that either directly or implicitly pushes artists towards less experimentation and more repetition of their ideas, I don't think by any means that all artist's who investigate a narrow range of ideas over a career and stay within a specific formal (or stylistic) range are the lesser for it and necessarily doing so to appease the market and museums. This is further explained in MULTIPLICATION AND DIVISION below.
Contributor Pedro Safadi adds, “Of course some artists rely on style to individualize their work, to stand out from the crowd and to be eventually identified with that style. Is it for the purpose of branding only? I think for some it goes beyond that. I think it might serve a different need, something psychological perhaps. But style might also be an organic ‘thing’ that mutates in the artist's hands into an ever clearer means of communicating his / her artistic sensibility. When the artist finally achieves the style that he has been nurturing along perhaps he decides that he has arrived at the place he wanted to be and needs to go no further.”
FORM
Form was briefly raised within the conversation this week. Pugilist Press wrote, “Without form there is no pleasure and in most cases no access” and made perhaps the most quotable statement of the week: “We don't disagree that content is what keeps the people at the party but without form there's no music to dance to. Lack of formal interest means that the doors to content are closed.”
ARBITERS OF TASTE
Massingham raised an interesting point during the week, writing: “I believe the real debate lies in the question of who are the arbiters of taste? It is these people who determine the perceived parameters of style and subject matter.” George McClintock asked a similar question at a different point in the conversation: “Would Gossage's photography have significance without the elaborate textual support erected by Badger and others?” He later reinforced Massingham’s point, wrapping in to an assessment of Gossage and his work: “Without all the academic reinforcement of its metaphorical significance, 'The Pond' would have precious little to offer.”
Unfortunately I am also a realist (cynic?) about the fact that connections (and the implied textual support and access to collections and exhibitions) define who is in the photography canon almost as much as the quality of work does, and the number of gatekeepers has always been very few. John Szarkowski made kings and queens for 30 years - and I believe that model of kingmakers is largely still in effect.
MULTIPLICATION AND DIVISION
I mentioned in the conversation an idea that offers perhaps an alternative way of looking at artists who make photographs that work within a narrow range in terms of subject matter and formal stylistics over an extended period of time. (Unfortunately I do not remember the source of the conversation or reading of this idea, but it is not originally mine.)
When we are young most are interested in a multiplicity of experiences – we date different people, travel many places, move around, and hold different jobs; likewise in art, when we are just getting going we explore different themes, formal ideas, try on different hats, jump between ways of working.
When we get older, most of us become interested in the division of a single experience rather than to continue with multiplication, that is to say we choose to experience one thing deeply, rather than many things more superficially. We tend to find a home, a long-term partner and settle into a career. The same would hold true for how we make artwork – we divide a more limited subject matter, exploring it thoroughly, instead of taking major jumps between each project.
2.10.2012
Reading Shortlist 2.12.12
The Reading Shortlist is an occasional post with a listing of recommended readings and links. A recommendation does not necessarily suggest an agreement with the contents of the post. For previous lists, please visit the site links page.
Blake Andrews, B, Reject. Andrews on his vast personal collection of rejection letters, his new approach to show applications, whether or not this is all worth it, and a copy of Robert Frank's Guggenheim application for good measure.
Sharon Boothroyd, Photoparley, Marc Feustel on Social Media. eyecurious' Feustel on the decline of photoblogging, on the impact of blogs on the exposure of new talent, and on the online photographic community.
Pete Brook, Wired, In Digital Age, Sourcing Images Is as Legitimate as Making Them. Photographer Paul Shambroom talks about his motivations for moving from his long and distinguished career making large-format images on America's infrastructure to working with found online images.
Featured Speaker John Gossage / SPE Conference at Light Work. An hour long lecture by Gossage that's part of the excellent SPE Conference lecture series that also includes talks by Ken Schles and Thilde Jensen as well as a roundtable hosted by Andy Adams about Photography 2.0.
Richard Mosse, Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, Through the Glass Brightly: Eastern Congo by Infrared. An excerpt of Mosse's essay from his new book, Infra. A powerful and well-thought through essay that serves as a model for anyone looking to work on their statement.
Claire O'Neill, NPR's The Picture Show, Deborah Luster: The Power of a Picture. An audio conversation with Luster who began photographing prisoners in rural Louisiana as a way to make visual one of the reasons the local countryside had become de-populated and as a way of coping with her mother's murder.
Colin Pantall, Introspective, navel-gazing nitpickers. Pantall on the problems in the contemporary photobook market and in the consumption of photobooks, especially the tendency to blindly follow tastemakers.
Adriana Teresa, New York Times Lens Blog, A Moment With Larry Fink. Teresa, co-founder of FotoVisura and publisher of Visura Magazine, conducts a interview with Fink that's biographic and that also includes questions on Fink's specific projects.
Blake Andrews, B, Reject. Andrews on his vast personal collection of rejection letters, his new approach to show applications, whether or not this is all worth it, and a copy of Robert Frank's Guggenheim application for good measure.
Sharon Boothroyd, Photoparley, Marc Feustel on Social Media. eyecurious' Feustel on the decline of photoblogging, on the impact of blogs on the exposure of new talent, and on the online photographic community.
Pete Brook, Wired, In Digital Age, Sourcing Images Is as Legitimate as Making Them. Photographer Paul Shambroom talks about his motivations for moving from his long and distinguished career making large-format images on America's infrastructure to working with found online images.
Featured Speaker John Gossage / SPE Conference at Light Work. An hour long lecture by Gossage that's part of the excellent SPE Conference lecture series that also includes talks by Ken Schles and Thilde Jensen as well as a roundtable hosted by Andy Adams about Photography 2.0.
Richard Mosse, Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, Through the Glass Brightly: Eastern Congo by Infrared. An excerpt of Mosse's essay from his new book, Infra. A powerful and well-thought through essay that serves as a model for anyone looking to work on their statement.
Claire O'Neill, NPR's The Picture Show, Deborah Luster: The Power of a Picture. An audio conversation with Luster who began photographing prisoners in rural Louisiana as a way to make visual one of the reasons the local countryside had become de-populated and as a way of coping with her mother's murder.
Colin Pantall, Introspective, navel-gazing nitpickers. Pantall on the problems in the contemporary photobook market and in the consumption of photobooks, especially the tendency to blindly follow tastemakers.
Adriana Teresa, New York Times Lens Blog, A Moment With Larry Fink. Teresa, co-founder of FotoVisura and publisher of Visura Magazine, conducts a interview with Fink that's biographic and that also includes questions on Fink's specific projects.
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