| Yossi Zur’s photographs in his first solo exhibit recently at the Christopher Henry Gallery in Soho, mesmerize the viewer. Simultaneously appearing and disappearing, emerging from inky-black, soundless backgrounds, hovering in undefined landscapes, these sepia-toned images ranging from the intricacies of a star map, to the abstract folds of richly patterned fabrics, to the shadowy contours of the human form and culminating in a startling portrait of the artist’s father–are all poetic, deeply powerful, and command attention. The show is a study in minimalism—in its glories– and the simple power of the medium of photography to evoke deep emotions within the viewer –confronting us with our obsessions to constantly construct meaningful narratives to explain phenomena around us. |  |
Yossi Zur’s photographs in his first solo exhibit recently at the Christopher Henry Gallery in Soho, mesmerize the viewer. Simultaneously appearing and disappearing, emerging from inky-black, soundless backgrounds, hovering in undefined landscapes, these sepia-toned images ranging from the intricacies of a star map, to the abstract folds of richly patterned fabrics, to the shadowy contours of the human form and culminating in a startling portrait of the artist’s father–are all poetic, deeply powerful, and command attention.
The show is a study in minimalism—in its glories– and the simple power of the medium of photography to evoke deep emotions within the viewer –confronting us with our obsessions to constantly construct meaningful narratives to explain phenomena around us. None of the individual prints (all of them 11×16) have a title or more importantly, convey a solitary statement. Instead, as the viewer moves from one to the other, the images begin to inform and envelope the viewer in their own story.
In the first image of the collection on the second floor, two soft beams of light are captured at the bottom of what appears to be a spherical space—the tip of a cylinder perhaps—a minute close up of a forehead–and yet, as the viewer strives to recognize the world of the photograph and assign it cognitive objects—the viewer cannot and must let the world of the picture dictate its own narrative—pulling the viewer beyond language into its inky, seeping background.
Another photograph, in contrast, undulates with fields of beautifully striped fabrics—one overlying the other, movement and waves of lines and shades upon a landscape. Again, the viewer is left to ponder the space as a desert perhaps—an aerial image—or simply a close-up and mesh of intersecting formations of line.In yet another print, a torso seems to emerge out of dark purple striations and circles of blackness. Still another haunting form—more decidedly figurative and representational than the others, is an image of boxes, three in a row, lined up and opened, it seems, for the viewer—shrouded in blue shadows and hovering in a dark background. As the viewer stares at the moving and alluring open-ended boxes, the image of a coffin comes to mind—beckoning and also forbidding.
Perhaps the most powerful photograph in the collection and not accidentally the last in the moving series—is a portrait of the artist’s father. This final, resonating image—the only starkly representational work—is dedicated and titled, “In Loving Memory of My Father, Amos Zur (1937-2009) In this frontal depiction of his father—Amos Zur stands firmly and squarely in space—framed—outdoors, framed by a gigantic wall of granite—looking at the viewer head-on. There is a half-smile on his face beneath a dark mustache—and as he stares straight into the lens—dark glasses shield his eyes—so that his expression is at once direct and also mysteriously obfuscated. It is like so many of Mr. Zur’s extraordinary works in this collection—the artist’s father is drawing the viewer into his world while clearly defining his unique boundaries at the same time.
