Thursday Entry: Fiction

"Now that we know that photography is capable of deception we may be saddened, hardened, made wiser or more cynical, but at the same time we are freed, able to consider it as more than just a recording medium"
-Luc Sante

Sante, L. (1997) "Science and Fiction"
Making it Real, 8-9.

What is taken for granted today was revelatory and even scandalous during its inception. Author Luc Sante compares contemporary tableaux photographers to the ancient creators of fiction, as well as the filmmakers who made a Victorian audience believe that a steaming train may just plow its way through the screen and wreak havoc upon movie-goers. When photography was in its infancy, it was seen as the medium to deliver the absolute truth; it appeared to be an impartial mirror, capturing an event in perfect detail. Photographers soon began to realize the power inherent in the medium and exploited its believeabilty. Civil War photographer Alexander Gardener seemed to have unsurpassed luck when it came to finding compelling images of the war. Audiences in the 1860s would have been shocked to learn of Gardener's photographic slights of hand. To produce such stirring images of our fallen countrymen, the artist actually moved the dead bodies around the battlefields to create better compositions. He placed rifles on unarmed men and even turned their tortured faces towards the camera, all under the guise of documentary photography. Artists such as Gardener lead the way for photographers such as Gregory Crewdson, Philip-Lorca diCorcia, and Sandy Skoglund, by allowing them to distort what is presented to the viewer.

Fiction has always been my reason for not giving up the ghost. I could not help but concoct ghost stories and legends while growing up in antique houses. I can remember my small bedroom in Connecticut being illuminated at night by the light from the glowing sign out in front of the town's funeral home, which was conveniently located directly across the street. On one occasion, I peered out my window in hopes of seeing the first snowfall of the season, and was instead met with a grim glimpse of a late-night hearse delivery. I call upon my bizarre and unfortunate experiences from childhood and adolescence when creating my narrative series.

Monday Entry: Peter Garfield

Peter Garfield's artwork centers on the fine line between fiction and reality. Born in Stanford, Connecticut in 1961, Garfield studied photography at Dartmouth and received his MFA from Pratt Institiute in 1987. He is best known for his fantastic Mobile Homes series, which feature haphazard looking images of houses falling from the sky. The artist wanted a tabloid-like appearance to the pictures, and used blur to obscure their artificiality. The photographs are absurd and surprisingly convincing. He created the images by dangling small, detailed models of houses in front of his lens. The model houses are in various states of destruction, which suggests the deterioration of family life.Garfield continued this charade by writing an interview in which he reveals that his process involves the dropping of actual houses. Intrigued by his ability to blur fiction and reality, the artist staged mock-documentary photographs of the creation of this series. In one image, which was digitally manipulated, a helicopter lifts a full-sized house miles into the air, prepared to drop its cargo at a moment's notice. With the same humorous approach, Garfield filled galleries with color-coded garbage for his series, Four Seasons. In the exhibit, he matched garbage with seasonal colors, and analyzed what we as a country consume and dispose of. I love his incendiary sense of humor and the steps that he followed to mask the artificiality of his Mobile Homes series.



http://www.petergarfield.net/index.shtml

http://www.pierogi2000.com/flatfile/garfieldp.html

http://chiefmag.com/issues/4/features/Peter-Garfield/

Thursday Entry: The Fantastic

"Recording media bear witness to the continued existence of the dead where the human eye and ear cannot"
-Pamela Thurschwell

Thurschwell, P. (2003) "Refusing to Give Up the Ghost".
The Disembodied Spirit, 21-30.

Thurschwells' article serves as a prologue to a collection of photographs, which toured galleries under the name The Disembodied Spirit. Her article, as well as the exhibit, explores the connection between the supernatural, in particular, ghosts, and visual media. Ghosts as subject matter appear as often in contemporary photography and cinema as in imagery created during the peak of Spiritualism in England and America during the mid to late 19th century. There is an indelible link between the need for the supernatural during the age of Spiritualism and in current times. Spirit photography was seen by some as a guaranty of an afterlife, which was a great reassurance to many who viewed those early photographs; not only were their loved ones still around, or so it appeared on film, but they could be comforted by the knowledge that their own existence would not come to a halt once they perished. Movies, much like spirit photography promise immortality as well. A loved one can live on through video footage for as long as the medium exists. Thurschwell examines contemporary films dealing with ghosts, such as The Sixth Sense and The Others to support her claim that recording media can provide proof of the supernatural; it is through photographs and audio recordings of spirits in these two films that their respective protagonists accept their own mortality.

The link between the supernatural and photography is one that has intrigued me for years. The sensitivity of the media has been exploited to create many famous hoaxes, but I still believe that film does possess an elusive quality that can record supernatural activity. Many of my staged photographs are built around ghost stories or are shot in locations that are believed to be haunted; this atmosphere, even if it is just in my mind, helps me to better visualize the abstract nature of the absent subject in my work.

Monday Entry: Trinidad Carrillo

Peruvian artist Trinidad Carrillo was born in Cusco in 1975 and spent a good deal of her young life living in Sweden. She recently received her MFA from the School of Photography at Gothenburg University in 2006. Her series "Braiding" reflects an intertwining of reality and dreams and also refers to the inclusion of both documentary photos and staged shots in the series. She has, in a sense, lead two lives, because of her frequent trips between Peru and Sweden. Her photos, whether documentary or staged always feature her close friends and relatives. Each image draws from her personal memories and stories from her life, which leads the viewer to involve himself in unraveling the meanings.

Carrillo and I have a great deal in common, when it comes to image-making. The artist keeps stories in mind while envisioning her scenes, and does not often share those tales with her audience; she does not do all of the work for the viewer. When she presents her photographs, they are printed large and a typical presentation features scenes taken at numerous locations. Her artwork is lively, imaginative and intelligent. Carrillo prefers to shoot with film, because she loves the uncertainty involved with the medium. Scenes shot at night can appear very differently on film than they do in person.


http://www.trinidadcarrillo.com

http://www.revolvergaleria.com

http://www.kopenhagen.dk/interviews/interviews/interview_trinidad_carrillo/

Thursday Entry: Handmade

"I have also noticed that people's hands no longer turn black after reading the newspaper...Its materiality used to leave stains on the bathroom's white hand-towels, as a reminder that the world we had absorbed in its minutia...is, in reality little more than the dabs of dirty ink neatly arranged on the surface of the cheapest possible paper"
-Vik Muniz

Muniz, V. (2005 ) "Dirty Hands".
A Primer From A to Z, 82-93.


Vik Muniz's article is about the possibilities of the artist's hand within mechanically reproduced imagery. A photographer can wield as much control as a painter with his artwork, and manipulates his imagery in a similar manner. The artist laments the overwhelming replacement of the tangible within the digital age; entire libraries worth of knowledge can now be found on a single computer. He writes that record collections and personal libraries have, by and large, lost the well-earned esteem that they once held. Muniz' artwork consists mainly of appropriations of classic works of art and media photographs, which he has translated into a new medium. A recent series of his is based upon the antiquated halftone process of printed dots, which are read as an image. Muniz selected infamous newspaper photographs, such as a shot of the Loch Ness Monster, and one of Hindenburg explosion. He increased the size of these images greatly and painted each dot of information by hand in a new material, a process that educated both his hands and his mind.

I share a kindred bond with Muniz in our respect for photography as a tangible medium. Perhaps I am superstitious, but I prefer to record all of my images on film; it is reassuring to see the actual physical negative of the picture I have taken. I choose to do as much of my work before the lens as possible, and do not care much for digital manipulation. I agree with the artist that too many processes have become de-humanized and digital.

Lecture Entry: Mark Dion 2/5

Rarely have I been introduced to an artist as ambitious and hilarious as Mark Dion. The distinguished American artist discussed his interest in historical preservation, and how institutions have the power to influence history and the knowledge of the population. Dion acts as a collector, curator, and scientist, all to prove the point that we as a people are quick to take in what is presented as official, and not truly question it; he showed the institution in a ridiculous light, as he took upon the role of curator and arranged his collected "artifacts" according to a system of absurd classifications. Dion travels from one continent to the next, and often sets up (or creates his own) galleries in the country that he does his collecting. In one instance, he spent the afternoon ambling about Chinatown in New York City, and bought as much seafood as he could find. After gathering his material, Dion created an artificial lab in a New York gallery and began to preserve and classify his specimen. At first glance, his presentation seems formidable and academic, yet once you look closer, you discover his humorous intent. As an added show of authority, Dion placed false laboratory doors against the solid walls in the gallery. In another work, which was presented in the Venice Bienale, he sifted and sorted through a pile of debris which was dredged from the canals in Venice. With a team of helpers, Dion found a rich history, dating back centuries, within the waste. The objects gleaned from the mud were then sorted by form, color, and shape and placed in a series of tents.

Not all of his work is as approachable or accessible as the Venice dredge. In what is perhaps my favorite of Dion's work, he created a one-room flea market, isolated in the middle of a German forest. This tiny cabin bears the name Der Elster, or in English, The Magpie, and is filled to the rafters with bizarre findings. From the outside it appears to be a store, yet those who stumble upon it will find that it is never open. You can only stand on the outside and peer in at his collection. It is, in the artist's mind, that perfect store or oasis, a place that cannot be fully be reached. He has operated behind glass, wearing an official lab coat, during many performances, leading the audience to believe they are witnessing an expert hard at work at scientific classification and dating processes; those who follow Mark Dion's work know better.

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