I’ve titled this set Landmarks because after travelling through Europe I was so burnt out on actual landmarks that these scenes appealed more to my senses. And it’s these quiet, tiny moments that shape the experience of travelling through foreign landscapes. We can always google those grandiose structures later, but it’s much more difficult to recollect these fragments of memory.
I was making a photo book on Abbotford (a suburb of Melbourne), spending a good part of this year shooting and preparing it. I submitted the book to Blurb but I thought the results were pretty terrible. The book may still happen if I find a better option, but for now here is the short version as a set on my cargocollective.
I was hoping to make this a bigger set but I think it works as six photographs (as large prints).
You can see the complete set , ‘you are here’ (2014) on my Cargo Collective.
I drove up to Mt Baw Baw recently. This place is solely for skiing in Winter, so in Autumn it was dead and all these signs were reversed.
As I developed these images I began to think that much of the power of photography lies in its ability to conceal. We tell stories with pictures, implying meaning by choosing what we show and, perhaps more importantly, what we exclude. In social media, for instance, we force our audiences to piece together controlled frames of our lives to form the myth of us, and, whether by intent or by nature of the medium, we will always hide something from our pictures. Through photography, we are exercising authority over our viewers by structuring, locking, and concealing objects and events; binding democratic and dynamic 3D forms to dictated, static 2D frames that deprive our audience of alternate viewpoints.
This is interesting to me because of my background in 3D graphics… And there’s more to say about all of that, but for now, here is a short series of signs in reverse (also on Cargo Collective):
I published this piece on Urbanphotomag – some thoughts on my next set of photographs. You can see the work in progress here:
I read an interview with photographer Lewis Baltz on American Suburb X the other day. For those that aren’t familiar he’s one of the icons of the New Topographics movement of the 1970s. Along with his contemporaries like Stephen Shore and Robert Adams, Baltz has clearly inspired thousands of photographers around the globe (see the plethora of New Topographics groups on Flickr etc).
Baltz’ black and white plates of the industrial landscape collectively form a texture of urban realities and change as opposed to the singular, romanticised depictions of places traditionally produced by landscape photographers. Baltz rarely privileges any particular subject in his images and insists on viewing his work as sets arranged in grids. He doesn’t want the viewer to focus on any photograph as an individual piece but rather see the industrial landscape as a whole. Through the formal staging, both in his framing and print arrangement, you get the sense of the power and control these impenetrable walls have over us.
His work is significant to me because I’m also interested in these otherwise periphery, utilitarian spaces. But times have changed and photography is no longer the most effective way to analytically describe industrial parks, or anything static and public for that matter. We have free access to technologies now that can simply do it more easily (Google Earth for instance). Baltz mentions how photography has become a self-reflexive practice as it is superseded as the most accurate mode of objective description, much like how drawing and painting were replaced by photography for this purpose many moons ago. In art photography, our work is now more about questioning the medium’s relevance rather than trying to factually describe our subjects or their political circumstances. For me, photography is an experiential exercise; it serves as an excuse to simply go there and to feel, and to express our immediate experience through the pictures we take. I think photography still has an advantage over those more advanced tools of representation – human presence. At least for now, it’s difficult to feel and thus portray the aura of a space without being right in the middle of it… and I think Baltz shows this all very well. But I still ask what exactly presence means and how viewers might feel it from photographs beyond structural, motivated semiosis. I guess I’m dipping into phenomenology here and as I sink further into it hopefully more questions will arise and more interesting ideas will surface. Baltz has helped me along for sure. I’ll be writing more as I explore all this through my next set of photographs, so far titled ‘You Are Here (you are nothing)’. You can watch it grow over the coming months here.
German filmmaker Wim Wenders uses a distinct phenomenological approach in depicting place, memory, and loss (Silberman, 1995). His 1984 film, Paris, Texas is quintessential of this.
While location scouting for the film Wenders used photography for the first time as an art medium in its own right. The photographs, which feature in his exhibition ‘Written in the West’, explore similar themes to those in the film; of myth and memory, trace and identity.
“Photography lets you capture the essence of a place the first time you see it…. Before you see the picture, you feel it coming to you, you hear its call. Landscapes sometimes are dying to tell their stories, to pass them on….” – Wim Wenders
Though I haven’t seen Paris, Texas for years it is one my favourites. It’s a beautiful film and well worth watching, at the very least for its photography.
The picture below marks the start of my next photographic project, and although it differs in context and intent to Wenders’ work, I recognise the influence and pay my humble appreciation to one of the greats.
See stills from Paris, Texas at Beautiful Stills from Beautiful Films: http://film-grab.com/2010/06/19/paris-texas/