They are also perfect examples of the point that, for many artists, one ought to approach and consider their body of work, rather than individual works in isolation.
I'm glad you got there! I'm going to try to see it too.Went on Wednesday. One of the most extraordinary photo exhibition I've ever seen, with the Cartier-Bresson retrospective at the MoMA a few years back.
This is exactly what the lesson this exhibition, by its sheer magnitude, brings. Looking at print after print after print after print, you stop asking questions about whether it's art or not, idea or not, what the concept is, what it means, what they meant or intended, etc. It just starts making sense, acquires a strange kind of coherence, and for a while, while you're contemplating print after print after print, such questions become irrelevant, and unexpected ones pop up.
What I can only call the transcendance of the experience of viewing this is partly due to the fact that everything looks extremely real and yet slightly unreal, and that one cannot quite figure out why there is that ambiguity between these two states. Part of it is because almost all structures are photographed the exact same way—just about the same amount of blank, neutral space on the top, left and right side between the building and the frame. They are totally isolated, and the effect is that while the building's function is clear, it is totally deprived of context.
Add to that the total absence of any human presence in pictures of buildings, like factories, that are totally deprived of meaning without human presence. The total absence of human presence doesn't really become oppressive after a while. It's weirder than that. You get the feeling, print after print after print after print, that once we all disappear—if we haven't yet, it's not clear looking at the photos—these structures would lose their human-related function and start to acquire a meaning of their own—which, of course, you question but cannot figure out.
Moreover, they are photographed with a large format camera with a raised front standard. This makes all vertical lines parallel, and while this makes sense aesthetically, takes a while to figure out that it also gives the impression that there is something slightly out of phase in your viewing, this because this is not how you actually would see such huge and tall structures in real life, if you were in front of them.
As Spock would say: "fascinating".
Not to get into the "is photography art" debate again, but how does a painting, lithograph or sculpture (citing just some plastic arts) differ from your statement about a photographic print?
...also gives the impression that there is something slightly out of phase in your viewing, this because this is not how you actually would see such huge and tall structures in real life, if you were in front of them.
As Spock would say: "fascinating".
This is exactly what the lesson this exhibition, by its sheer magnitude, brings. Looking at print after print after print after print, you stop asking questions about whether it's art or not, idea or not, what the concept is, what it means, what they meant or intended, etc. It just starts making sense, acquires a strange kind of coherence, and for a while, while you're contemplating print after print after print, such questions become irrelevant, and unexpected ones pop up.
What I can only call the transcendance of the experience of viewing this is partly due to the fact that everything looks extremely real and yet slightly unreal, and that one cannot quite figure out why there is that ambiguity between these two states. Part of it is because almost all structures are photographed the exact same way—just about the same amount of blank, neutral space on the top, left and right side between the building and the frame. They are totally isolated, and the effect is that while the building's function is clear, it is totally deprived of context.
Add to that the total absence of any human presence in pictures of buildings, like factories, that are totally deprived of meaning without human presence. The total absence of human presence doesn't really become oppressive after a while. It's weirder than that. You get the feeling, print after print after print after print, that once we all disappear—if we haven't yet, it's not clear looking at the photos—these structures would lose their human-related function and start to acquire a meaning of their own—which, of course, you question but cannot figure out.
Moreover, they are photographed with a large format camera with a raised front standard. This makes all vertical lines parallel, and while this makes sense aesthetically, takes a while to figure out that it also gives the impression that there is something slightly out of phase in your viewing, this because this is not how you actually would see such huge and tall structures in real life, if you were in front of them.
As Spock would say: "fascinating".
Just from what I saw via this thread I saw that they would have the subjects fill the frames to the same constraints so that each subject was the same size as related subjects. Consistent and easily comparable.
That ignores the life's work of the artists, which wasn't "each subject" or "same" or "easily comparable" ...as seen by exactly one person who has repeatedly disparaged the respect being given by the most important of galleries, as well as by other posters here, to the artists.
"From what I saw" appears to be akin to someone's shoe size.
It shows that they used a scientific approach that allows one to compare similar objects at roughly the same magnification.
I don't see much need for delving into obscure or abstract meaning.
They seem to be modelled after technical drawing. Thus the parallel lines. Thus the isolation. Thus the low contrast. These photos come as close as possible to being "architectural renderings" without being actual draughts.
Does this become a measure of value, of quality?
Well, delving into meaning will always be abstract, and in order to bring meaning into light you have to accept the fact that part of it is hidden in obscurity.
A photo doesn't have to be anything other than what it is to be worthwhile. There is no reason to demand it be abstractly or obscurely meaningful. It doesn't need it.
But that is one of the wonders things about art in general...the ability to elicit different emotions and interpretations from different people. I would even posit that one should start the study of art with the abstract expressionists, removing obvious subject matter from the equations and allowing composition, color, texture to dominate.There is a danger in reading in too much meaning into a photograph or a collection of photographs. That danger including projecting ones own experiences and prejudices.
Hilla and Bernd Beacher produced a body of work of architectural pieces that were disappearing. They used a methodical systematic approach to photograph each one in a manner that allows one to view it as art, a design study or structural study. The work stands on its own and is not a metaphor for something it was never meant to be. They achieved what they set out to do as a lifetime work which they completed. View it for what it was meant to be, not for what one would have liked it to be or how one would like to inject into it.
I did read this many years ago in collage. Took it very seriously and still do.Since we're engaged in interpretation, I'll add something many find important, stimulating, and especially relevant, Susan Sontag's "against interpretation". As many know, Sontag was married to a famous professional photographer, Annie Leibovitz.
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