Neo Post Pictorialism
By Charles Giuliano
This widely disseminated invention/ craft/ art form also initiated a debate that has continued unabated to this day. A March 4th article and interview in Guardian Unlimited with David Hockney reopens that can of worms. Having flogged the use of the lens as a device used to create some of the great works of the Old Masters, Hockney has now reversed course and is attacking contemporary photography. He deplores its ease of manipulation through digital and computer technology. It has drained the "truth" from the camera and thereby its credibility since the good old days of the wetwork darkroom.
The Guardian quotes Hockney as stating that contemporary art photography is, "dull." He adds that, "I think there was perhaps a point where there was a general perception that photography was truth, but we have lost that." Duh. And that, "For a work of art you need the hand, the eye and the heart. Many people would video that moment, but again, the video would turn it into a performance. Fellini says that everything in front of the camera’s a performance." Are we only moments away from Hockney denouncing the movies and performance in general as more artifice than art? He then waxes on about the good old days of the "truthfulness" of Cartier-Bresson. Yawn.
The Guardian, taking Hockney’s bait, hook line and stinker, states that, "As more people…realize that the camera can be made to lie, Hockney hopes there will be a positive side-effect for painting, which will gain in standing in reverse proportion."
Hogwash. The entire notion of truth vs. lie is just so absurd. What is the truth? Come on, show me, tell me. We are inundated with lies. Weapons of Mass Destruction. Give me a break. Has Hockney never seen Rashamon or read Steppenwolf? What about the Magic Theater? Did he never drop acid in the swinging 60s? Even the Beatles tried that. Would he pronounce Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band as deceptive? All those synthesizers and special effects as ruining the truth of music? And, in painting, his model of truth to nature, what about those melting watches and ants in paintings by the master of chicanery, Salvador Dali?
Actually, these latest arguments of the dottering and drooling Hockney came to my attention only after I viewed several exhibitions and initiated the thinking process that results in this latest essay/ screed. More waste spewing from the heat oppressed mind.
There was my straightforward response to two exhibitions by painters using photography as a conceptual basis for their work, Ron Rizzi at Gallery Naga, and Peter Erlund at Judy Goldman Fine Art. And two photographers, Mary Kocol, also at Naga, and Steve Wrubel’s first one person exhibition at Kidder Smith Gallery.
These four exhibition seen together formed the basis for an old and new argument about the strengths and weakness of the use of a lens as a device for creating images to be reproduced as paintings as well as what we lump together under the umbrella of photography. This is an ancient struggle and argument.
When Daguerre made photography widely available it was seen as a threat to other forms of the fine arts. The camera, for instance, made portraits quickly and cheaply. This was initially the primary use of the medium and it may well have diminished the market for itinerant limners. Conversely, photographers had a long and difficult struggle to gain equal status in the exclusive club of the fine arts. One response was Pictorialism the notion of making arty photographs, which emulated what could be done with the brush.
The soft underbelly of making photographs that emulate paintings and paintings meant to look like photographs is that it entails a basic denial of the medium and what it wants to be and do. Paint has inherent qualities, which we discuss as painterly. It is precisely the lack of this aspect that is unsatisfying about most photo realism. There is a denial of surface and feeling for the material. Photo realism has a thin, flat and graphic quality. Ironically, work of this kind often looks best in reproduction and fails to seduce on direct exposure. Conversely, photographs that aspire to be on a par with paintings represent another form of denial. A lot of digital photography is just terrible. So it takes a very special individual to find the mid point between medium, manipulation, mechanical reproduction and soul.
My initial reaction to the four exhibitions in question was to feel aloof and critical of the paintings of Rizzi and Erlund but thrilled and ecstatic in response to the photographs of Kocol (which I have been following for some time) and Wrubel. But I realized that these responses were based on brief first impressions. Accordingly, I went back for second and longer views of the shows, discussion with the gallerists, and reading of the artists’s statements and press releases. After this longer reflection there is still some ambivalence. The issues are complex so there is little prospect that I may resolve them.
Arthur Dion, the often prescient director of Gallery Naga, seems fully cognizant of the issues when he states in the release that, "Gallery Naga presents two Boston-based artists whose work draws upon the ambiguous terrain between painting and photography." The very fact that he has presented this tandem of shows, begging the obvious comparisons that prove to be so troubling, says a lot about contemporary attitudes. The time has long since passed when photographers were not show in galleries that emphasized painting, as is the case with Naga. While every major art center has one or more galleries devoted exclusively to photography, the work seen in this context, other than vintage prints, tends to be less interesting. These photo dealers and venues seem driven by antique notions of formalism in the medium. Photographers, thankfully, have long since broken out of the photo ghetto and prefer to be viewed simply as artists.
The paintings of Rizzi have always been difficult for me and this time no less so. In these latest works, positively meticulous in technique and verisimilitude are again overly cerebral and static. They entail a series of images with the scale and matte surface of traditional photographs conveying vignettes of a man, a character if you will, in Beckett like existential moments. There is an austere implied narrative as, "the man," or indeed, "everyman," hovers on the edge of a cliff, turns his back and pisses on a rock, or looks into a void. There is also a pit, without figure, that implies an underworld into which man descends. While one respects the craft and technical aspects of the work, it is severe to the point of doctrinaire, anti sensual, and austere. One does not feel particularly welcome in this work with its severe and self-imposed limitations. And yet, on a more prolonged reading of the work, it is also possible to overcome the daunting obstacles, the denial of the medium, the anti-paint painting approach, and perhaps revel in the ennui and alienation of this character and persona. As Sartre stated, "Hell is other people." By extension, this work may convey Rizzi’s hell or some variant. But we all have our own hell and mine is difficult enough to deal with. So do I really want and need yours? Or, in this case, Rizzi’s? Or Mel Gibson’s? Or any other hell other than Bosch’s. Hockney, significantly, argues than only a painter can truly depict hell. Which implies, conversely, that photographers are adept to depicting heaven? Do by all means see Rizzi’s work, which is powerful and credible in its own terms, and make up your own mind.
Similarly, I was initially put off by the garish, posterized colors in the paintings by Erlund which appropriate iconic, black and white images of the American Southwest, a paradigm of truth to nature by Ansel Adams. It is interesting that the artist has elected to deconstruct images by Adams, the most unassailable of all photographers. No body of work has been more universally canonized. So the high chroma colors of Erlund’s paintings are a form of sacrilege. Which may be his point. In an improvisation of Old Faithful by Adams the artist uses the title "Homeland Security; Near Camp Heart Mt., Wyoming (after Ansel Adams)." The artist is referencing the Japanese internment camps located near the sites of the Adams photographs. It is telling that the steam gushing high in the air in this painting is blood red. Arguably, it is a metaphor for war and mass destruction. It is significant that the artist is described as having witnessed the events of 9/11 which informs this work. Accordingly, the paintings are evocative conceptually if they lack a sense of painterly qualities. In emulating but manipulating their source the artist strives for a graphic, deadpan surface. This appeals more to my mind than my eye.
If the paintings of Erlund and Rizzi are unsettling they also leave us with lingering thoughts and afterimages. They are difficult to leave behind. Perhaps they penetrate and disturb the viewer more than we care to concede.
On the other hand, the photographs of Wrubel and Kocol are pure eye candy. They have a lot of wow to them. We are simply knocked out by their sensuality, scale, and saturated color. The very opposite qualities to the cool and conceptual paintings we have just discussed.
So how did these photographic works bear up to a second viewing? In both instances they are rich and compelling images. In the realm of thought and content, however, the Kocol photographs are more provocative and resonant.
This debut by Wrubel, a not so young, but widely traveled artist is most auspicious. The technical aspects of the images are stunning and compelling. The presentation, large scale, digital and laser (chemical) produced prints have been laminated in plexi and hover borderless on the wall. There are scenes from Italy, Africa, and beaches that could be from either American coast, as well as a gorgeous study of clouds shot from above. Upon entering the gallery we are confronted by the enormous sculpted hand and pointing finger of the Emperor Constantine the Great. Nearby is a view of the layers of houses on the cliffs of Positano along the Amalfi Coast. There are images of wildlife in the Serengeti.
These works evoke a strong sense of beauty. Clearly, the artist has mastered the craft and potential of his medium. It is gorgeous and compelling work but on prolonged viewing it is that all important conceptual aspect that needs more development.
Having tracked Kocol for some time the work is just getting stronger all the time. This latest series of works, mostly of modest domestic dwellings in a variety of locations, seasons, and times of day evoke comparisons to the obsession with American light in the Luminists and Hudson River painters of the 19th century. On a more modest scale, and with less than bombastic subjects, her photographs make me think of the quality of light in a Church sunset, Bierstadt’s Yosemite, or an intimate view of marshes by Heade.
As a practitioner of the medium I marvel at her ability to capture the most ephemeral qualities of twilight with its golden colors all in clear and sharp depth and focus. Just try that exercise and see how quickly you will be dissuaded from the notion of photography as just mechanical reproduction.
One of the most spectacular images in Kocol’s show is also quite local and topical. It presents a new Boston landmark and instant icon, "Zakim Bridge and Central Artery at Night, Boston." So far, the bridge appears to be the only universally admired result from that Boston nightmare called The Big Dig. It is significant that a print of that subject was recently acquired by London’s Victoria and Albert Museum. This demonstrates the universal appeal of her work. Another stunning image presents a lit window of a small house in a night scene "House at Night Isle of Wight." The artist will have a one person show there in 2005.
Traces of circular white lines at first puzzle the viewer until we intuit that they are swirling sparklers in "4th of July, Somerville." There is another compelling domestic scene "Cookout Nantucket" in which a barbecue grill next to the house gives off an eerie glow.
Oddly, one of my favorite images from this show was hung in a back office. It represents an oblique view through a car windshield covered by rain looking up at a small wooden house. Apparently, it didn’t make the cut for the main room. Dion explained to me that it was shot using a very cheap camera and the artist has long played with the resultant distortions and limitations.
So, there it is. To be sure, I have not set to rest this ancient debate. But I got my two cents in. And the next time I run into Mr. Hockney, we met at the MFA a couple of years ago, I’m gonnah let em have it. Just wait. He has it coming.
