Radar Redux.com is expanding the traditional concept of journalism, to cover a wide array of Baltimore Arts and Culture.
The long awaited photography exhibition Seeing Now at the Baltimore Museum of Art opened its doors to the public last month. The captivating exhibition displays over 200 photographs dating from nineteen sixty to the present. Many beautiful pieces from notable photographers are featured, among them Diane Arbus, Larry Clark, Cindy Sherman and Garry Winogrand. The exhibition is divided into several sections: pictures of people; pictures of place; pictures of performances and ephemeral actions; and pictures of the physical and chemical properties of photography.
Upon entering the exhibition, one may feel overwhelmed. The layout is dense with many photos hung closely together, all demanding your attention. The exhibition starts off strong with the section containing images of people. Each photo presents a beautiful glance into the eyes of the photographer, and more memorably, a glance into the lives of the subjects. From the smiling eyes of the woman in Arbus’ “Woman with Veil on Fifth Avenue”, to the disturbing desperation in the faces of the impoverished families in prints from Mary Ellen Mark, the realism of the subjects is hard to ignore.
Displayed among the primarily black and white collection are several larger color prints, notably “Le déjeuner sur l’herbe: Les Trois Femmes Noires” by Mickalene Thomas, a modern interpretation of the 19th century Manet oil painting “The Luncheon on the Grass”. Thomas’ photo is one of the many examples in the exhibition that show the unique capacities of contemporary photography Unlike a painting which attempts to create a perfected representation of life, photography often cannot hide its imperfections nor does it try. Unlike André Kertész or Ray Man, many of the artists in Seeing Now do not seek to manipulate reality in the darkroom, but rather to flaunt the process as a profound work of art in and of itself.
One small room is devoted to the famous autobiographical “Tulsa” series, that were once published as a controversial book by Larry Clark. The space displays 50 of photos of young methamphetamine addicts in the nineteen sixties and early seventies, including friends of the photographer. The series poignantly portrays the sex, addiction and violence of this period in the photographer’s life. The photos remain shocking and disturbing, yet compelling.
Many of the photographs in “Seeing Now” may have been somewhat banal when exhibited in the time they were created, but viewing them from a distance, they become more than moments in time. They become acute representations of a former reality. Curator Kristen Hileman attributes this property to “photography’s special ability to capture and evoke a fleeting instant”. Though moments come and go without thought during the majority lives a photograph captures an experience the moment the shutter closes. Once done, it is frozen and immortalized. While the most memorable photographs from the exhibition are those with subjects in their daily lives, the images of places and the pictures of ephemeral events display a similar immortalization of changing subjects. Leaving Seeing Now, you can’t help but to do just that- see the present that is your reality, but now with a more critical eye. Our “now” is in constant flux, changing and morphing. Sometimes the preserved instants from previous “nows” in photographic form will without a doubt make you reconsider the realism in front of you.
Fellow Radar Redux contributor Rosalia Cefalu accompanied me to the opening. After seeing the exhibit, we took time to discuss what we thought of the exhibition and its ramifications.
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Rachel Sax: So obviously walking out of that exhibit, we both felt a little overwhelmed. There were so many photos in such a small space.
Rosalia Cefalu: Not to mention covering fifty years of photography. Think about how much our world has changed in fifty years. There are just so many stories to tell through photos.
RS: Yeah, I totally agree. That’s one thing I thought the exhibit was lacking in. If we hadn’t heard the curator’s talk, I would have been completely lost as to the essence of the show as a whole. The main message of the exhibit was pretty clear though-
RC: You thought the message of the exhibit was clear?
RS: Maybe it was because we were prefaced by that talk, but I thought going into it, even the name of the exhibit “Seeing Now” – it’s very clearly making me look at what time is in a different way. I thought it was especially clear with all the candid shots- just how the essence of a person could be captured in one frame, and in that it captures an entire time.
RC: I guess in retrospect, the title actually says that completely- “seeing now” implies seeing “then”, now.
RS: Right exactly, and then after “seeing then”, how do you see now differently? You become aware of the fact that now is also going to be a memory someday- “now” is going to become a stylized version of itself in a few years.
RC: if not already. So what did you think of those photos that were just large landscapes, with so much details of a specific neighborhood or city?
RS: I wasn’t as moved by them, but when the curator talked about them in her presentation, I thought it was really cool- seeing how an entire landscape has completely evolved.
RC: They were also just breathtakingly vast photos…
RS: For me, I really connected with seeing the people’s faces, because we can all relate to having our picture taken and looking back at it and thinking “who was I then?”
RC: So which candids did you especially like?
RS: I thought the Tulsa series by Larry Clark was awesome, so intense and so real.
RC: Yeah, like, who were these people?
RS: it was just their day-to-day life. The photos were taken in such a casual way that you really get a little preview into these people’s lives.
RC: Yeah, I left thinking about this photographer Nan Goldin- her strong suit and the reason she’s such a great photographer is that the camera literally becomes an extension of her; just like in the Tulsa photos- the camera is like another friend in the room hanging out to tell the stories years later.
RS: It becomes almost like this objective seeing eye. That’s why I thought it was interesting with the section that made you aware the of the camera itself- its physical and chemical properties. It was just looking at it on a completely different level- the photo wasn’t an eye anymore- it was this tangible material. I thought it was a cool concept but in general, the conceptual stuff just didn’t hit me as hard.
RC: See I had a stronger POV on the conceptual work. In candids like the Tulsa series,–the camera is like another person in the room, and blending seamlessly. The feeling with those more conceptual pieces like Vito Antocci’s works where he bites as many parts of his body as he can and subsequently imprints them in ink, the action of the photographs of him doing so take on an opposite meaning. It’s like–this is a spectacle, this is something to be seen, this is put on for a reason.
RS: it’s utilizing completely different capacities of photography.
RC: I liked it though because I walked away and I felt something. First obviously it was shock because it’s graphic, and you think, “Why would this guy bite himself?” but what I liked about it was that the photography was there for a reason, and the artist had a reason. It wasn’t just capturing a random moment in time, he was putting on this show- he had complete control over the point he was trying to make. And there’s multiple parts to it- there’s him biting, the photo of him doing it, the imprint that’s left after and then subsequently the ink that he creates the trademark with. It really captured the whole process.
RS: It’s true, and it’s interesting because with a lot of art you only see the final product. You look at a beautiful painting and you see the final product- you don’t realize how many layers there are and how much planning it took. With a photo you don’t always think about the hours in the darkroom and all the techniques the photographer chose to use.
RC: Its kind of like how we appreciated the show after having seen the curator talk- we understood the process of her designing the exhibition and what her intentions were and why she picked what she picked
RS: Yeah, and I thought she picked awesome photos. The only problem was that since they were all so diverse and intense, some of them needed a wall to themselves. Also, I thought it was kind of weird that the final room of the exhibition was just a dark room with a projection. I didn’t even really understand what it was. I just thought it was a waste of space and a weak point to end the exhibition.
RC: yeah agreed, the end of a show should make a more cohesive statement.
RS: I thought it was interesting with some of the digital photos mixed in. I was thinking about how that has changed photography. Now photography has such an instant gratification. Like, here’s this moment, let me capture it right now, let me post it on my facebook, let everyone in the world see it, let me look back over and over again.
RC: it makes the picture almost lose its value
RS: At the same time, photography has gotten so vivid- cameras are so high quality.
RC: it makes amateurs pros
RS: Which is cool in some ways, but it makes you wonder what makes one photo anymore valuable than another.
RC: Does it give the photographer more weight to their creative point of view or less? If anyone can hit the button and make it look beautiful- how does the photographer choose their frame? And then if it’s a successful photo, is that because of the photographer, the subject or the equipment?
RS: I think it’s both. Photography is such a collaborative art
RC: And to successfully capture a moment in time, the subject needs to feel comfortable, which is probably why Larry Clark’s Tulsa series is so great- Clark knows the subjects and they’re are comfortable. So everyone is just doing what they’re doing
RC: If I take a great picture of us all hanging out, and you guys don’t really notice the camera is there or that I took the picture, it ends up a great picture because it’s natural, candid. Later on, it will show off what life is like now. But then I put it on my facebook and we all comment on it, and everyone sees it 90 million times. In 30 years after a whole generation of mass distribution of photography, is that picture going to be worth anything? Will it possess that inherent value–that it shows the life of then, now?
RS: Even just finding pictures of my parents from the 70s. They’re just so awesome.
RC: And you know they’re one-of-a-kind
RS: Sometimes I think, God, my kids could already see 3000 photos of me. There’s no mystery there anymore. At some point, I think the past should be a little bit ambiguous. It’s cool that my parents have many 5 or 10 good photos of themselves from any given year in college, and they’re all just so quintessentially “them”. In some ways I love the fact that photography has become so easy, I have so many pictures of so many events in my life, but it’s a totally different concept.
RC: I think it’s a problem our generation faces- media overload. There’s just so much all the time, nothing is special anymore
RS: I think that was a huge part of the exhibit- I definitely walked out thinking: first of all, how will I look at pictures I take now later on, but also, wow, these aren’t even equivalent. That type of media- film photography- is dropping off. Even now, if someone takes the time, uses a 35mm camera, develops the film and print in the darkroom, in the end you see one photo, and you think “I could have taken that on my digital camera”. Think about the hipstamatic iPhone app or all these programs to make digital photos look like they’re old. And suddenly they’re seen as artsy.
RC: but it’s true and it works. And you look at it and you appreciate its aesthetic appeal.
RS: Even polaroids, which used to me our equivalent of instant photography, are now vintage
RC: It seems like everything has lost the respect of the process. Now that we take 5 pictures of us in front of the Eiffel Tower instead of 1 that might have come out good, or might have not come out good. When it doesn’t come out perfect, you still kind of like it because this is the only one we may have from a given moment that inspired us to take a photo. That’s what I liked about the exhibit- it shows the process.
RS: Another thing about film photography is that when you take that picture- you might not get it developed for months. And you get to relive the moment when you finally do get the prints back. Most of it is just an abstract memory except for this one frame.
RC: Have you ever been as excited to look at your digital camera, as you have to go pick up a disposable camera that you dropped off a week ago to get developed? It’s the best feeling .
RS: Absolutely. And if the film doesn’t turn out well, it’s this weird feeling of loss. I think our generation really is just overloaded. Everything is documentable.
RC: It makes you wonder: Is seeing now better than seeing then? Seeing now relatively: Is seeing a roll you took a month ago better now than seeing them right when you took them. You take pictures to remember a moment, but you still remember it the day after you took it, the week after you took it.
RS: Exactly- does photography require time to accumulate appreciation?
RC: It’s such an interesting question especially in this digital age. but I think that’s what this exhibit really wants us to think about.
Seeing Now: Photography Since 1960
February 20, 2011 – May 15, 2011
Baltimore Museum of Art
10 Art Museum Drive
Baltimore, MD 21218
443-573-1700
www.artbma.org
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April 11, 2011 5:29 pm