‘Paul Strand: Photography and Film for the 20th Century’ at the Victoria and Albert Museum (19 March – 3 July 2016)
In, unbelievably, the first major European retrospective of Strand’s work since his death 30 years ago, The Victoria & Albert Museum does another laudable job of representing the medium of photography in a ‘high art’ context. If you are ever in need of a ‘photography fix’, you can always rely on the V&A who have two rooms dedicated solely to photographic exhibitions.
Paul Strand is a household name in the world of photography. He is known to many as the protégé of Alfred Stieglitz - one of the fathers of modern American photography and a pioneer in the move to elevate photography as an individual art form. Strand encompassed these values but also took them in an entirely new direction and is considered a master in his own right. Important to note at this stage is America’s positioning in the story of modern art. Before this point, America tended to be seen as slightly behind the pack. Photographic modernism is the exception to that rule – they were ahead of anything else happening in Europe.
Here, Strand’s early work surrounds the iconic, avant-garde film based in New York: Manhatta (1921), the result of an artistic collaboration with the painter Charles Sheeler. This silent film, which would have been originally accompanied by music, has no script or storyline but is occasionally broken up with titles taken from the poetry of Walt Whitman. It is in essence a beautiful study of the dynamism of the city and was created around the time that Strand started photographing his own camera. These photographs are also on display alongside his actual movie camera - his obsession during this time being with man and the machine. Manhatta is projected in a small secondary room so prepare for a bench battle if you’re there at the weekend.
The V&A illustrates all of this in the first few rooms, which you might assume is the end of the exhibition. It must not be forgotten that this is a retrospective. The concept therefore is to embody a life’s work, not just a fragment of it. Strand’s experiments with abstraction and obsession with the urban metropolis was just the early stage of his career. Although best known for these images captured during the early 20th Century, it is truly the world you are led into next that leaves you buzzing with the thrill of a life discovered. The displays on the walls surrounding these larger rooms are grouped together and separated by each new world he uncovers - everywhere from Mexico to Ghana and France to the Hebrides. The exhibition concludes in the calm of retirement as he settled down in Orgeval, France, and became fascinated by his garden.
The dusty green and dusty pink walls on which the images hang evoke a sense of memory - of crumbling red brick walls, of dusk, tattered woollen blankets, forgotten folk songs and Scottish moors. This exhibition is truly a journey; it moves you both emotionally and physically. The best exhibitions tell a story, have a link, a message even. This series of photographs really does push you gently on; you are so keen to learn more, to discover his next step. It flows beautifully.
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‘Strange and Familiar: Britain as Revealed by International Photographers’ at The Barbican (16 March – 19 June 2016)
The Barbican is nailing it at the moment. Following their unmissable (don’t tell me you missed it) exhibition-come-love story: ‘The World of Charles and Ray Eames’ (21 October 2015 – 14 February 2016), they continue on their winning streak with: ‘Strange and Familiar’. It is rare to see the work of quite so many influential and iconic photographers in one space and rare in fact to have an exhibition purely dedicated to photography – even now. To top it off, the curator is none other than Martin Parr and, love or hate his kooky (and borderline garish) documentary style, there is no doubting that he puts together an incredibly inspirational exhibition. This is one of those rare shows that will leave even the most unlikely ‘culture vulture’ finding a hole they didn’t know needed filling.
The exhibition space is a large one and differing from the Eames exhibition, the space isn’t filled with a variety of art forms, no drawings, no models, no furniture – simply photographs, with over 250 works in total. That’s not including the fantastic array of photographic books and journals in the ‘library’ in the open space below the stairs. Two floors exhibiting the most astounding spread of photographic talent whose look at Britain displays a timeline of British culture.
Purely based on personal preference, the upper level of the show is photography at its absolute best. A black and white sea of images full of colourful characters from 20th century Britain - a huge diversity of cultural norms, which may or may not strike a cord with the viewer. Frank Habricht’s concert goer, who smiles at us beneath her floppy hat and decorated eyelids in Part of the Scene, Rolling Stones Concert, Hyde Park London July 1969 heavily contrasts works such as Wales, Ben Jones and his Wife, 1953 - Robert Frank’s perception of South Wales in the early 1950s. Just as he exposes the United States to be a country that has a clear racial divide in The Americans (1958), Frank highlights the poverty of coal mining families by comparing them to the appearance of certain Londoners during this time.
The ground floor displays the exploration of slightly more innovative techniques - as photographers gradually became appreciated as artists and not simply documenters or journalists. These photographs reveal themes and subject matters that tend to make you recoil in a different way to a black and white photograph. Images in colour tend to trigger the mind instantaneously, as they feel immediately ‘real’ where a black and white image might feel historical, distanced from the viewer.
Bruce Gilden’s close-cropped portraits are enlarged so that his subject’s noses are equivalent in size to your head. Photographs such as these would expose the flaws of even the most doll-like faces. He captures every pore, every smudge of make-up, and each strand of thinning hair. This is the power of photography. It is just as hard to look away from these bilious blown-up faces shot in 2013, as it is to wander past Edith Tudor-Hart’s images of working class London in the 1930s with young eyes that pierce through time to meet your gaze and hold you still.
If you’re at all into photography don’t risk going with someone who’s not – you’ll be here a while.
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The Barbican is nailing it at the moment. Following their unmissable (don’t tell me you missed it) exhibition-come-love story: ‘The World of Charles and Ray Eames’ (21 October 2015 – 14 February 2016), they continue on their winning streak with: ‘Strange and Familiar’. It is rare to see the work of quite so many influential and iconic photographers in one space and rare in fact to have an exhibition purely dedicated to photography – even now. To top it off, the curator is none other than Martin Parr and, love or hate his kooky (and borderline garish) documentary style, there is no doubting that he puts together an incredibly inspirational exhibition. This is one of those rare shows that will leave even the most unlikely ‘culture vulture’ finding a hole they didn’t know needed filling.
The exhibition space is a large one and differing from the Eames exhibition, the space isn’t filled with a variety of art forms, no drawings, no models, no furniture – simply photographs, with over 250 works in total. That’s not including the fantastic array of photographic books and journals in the ‘library’ in the open space below the stairs. Two floors exhibiting the most astounding spread of photographic talent whose look at Britain displays a timeline of British culture.
Purely based on personal preference, the upper level of the show is photography at its absolute best. A black and white sea of images full of colourful characters from 20th century Britain - a huge diversity of cultural norms, which may or may not strike a cord with the viewer. Frank Habricht’s concert goer, who smiles at us beneath her floppy hat and decorated eyelids in Part of the Scene, Rolling Stones Concert, Hyde Park London July 1969 heavily contrasts works such as Wales, Ben Jones and his Wife, 1953 - Robert Frank’s perception of South Wales in the early 1950s. Just as he exposes the United States to be a country that has a clear racial divide in The Americans (1958), Frank highlights the poverty of coal mining families by comparing them to the appearance of certain Londoners during this time.
The ground floor displays the exploration of slightly more innovative techniques - as photographers gradually became appreciated as artists and not simply documenters or journalists. These photographs reveal themes and subject matters that tend to make you recoil in a different way to a black and white photograph. Images in colour tend to trigger the mind instantaneously, as they feel immediately ‘real’ where a black and white image might feel historical, distanced from the viewer.
Bruce Gilden’s close-cropped portraits are enlarged so that his subject’s noses are equivalent in size to your head. Photographs such as these would expose the flaws of even the most doll-like faces. He captures every pore, every smudge of make-up, and each strand of thinning hair. This is the power of photography. It is just as hard to look away from these bilious blown-up faces shot in 2013, as it is to wander past Edith Tudor-Hart’s images of working class London in the 1930s with young eyes that pierce through time to meet your gaze and hold you still.
If you’re at all into photography don’t risk going with someone who’s not – you’ll be here a while.
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‘William Eggleston: Portraits’ at the National Portrait Gallery
(21 July – 23 October 2016)
There’s something really pleasing about wandering into a two-room exhibition. Not so much for my sake but for the lunch-break gallery dashers, the brave mothers with pram-sized whimpering children, and the G.C.S.E art students forced into drawing the work of others rather than creating their own. It’s also great to have an exhibition to suggest to friends who don’t want to spend the whole day looking at art but who have decided to ‘do something cultural’, and ask you for advice. This display of William Eggleston’s photographs is that perfect exhibition – suited to all. It is also amazing value at £8 with a donation.
It was surprisingly busy for a Monday lunchtime. I was new to Eggleston’s work and naïvely thought others might be too. Educated in Eggleston or not, word of mouth alone will be enough to pack out the rooms of this space at The National Portrait Gallery on any day of the week. Eggleston was a pioneer in colour photography and one of the first to use it for artistic rather than commercial purposes – a move encouraged by fellow artist William Christenberry. He brings to life the colour palette of an era full of dynamism, of change, of a new kind of freedom. His ‘Nightclub Portraits Series’ (1973-4) is a beautiful collection of partygoers from the 70s that feels incredibly romantic. The nightclubbing of the 70s comes across much more quixotic than the modern day equivalent – a clubbing scene which found its roots in the 90s, pictures of which would feel grimy in comparison, and blanketed in dark undertones. The photographs became a sad reminder that London’s own nightlife seems to be dying out altogether as its iconic clubs and music venues regularly close down.
‘Stranded in Canton’, (1963-4) accompanies these images beautifully, a patch worked film of nightclub scenes and clips of friends and family.
One wall in particular brings the artist’s own character to life. On it sits an eye-catching little notebook, held open to a page covered in patches of colour. It makes perfect sense that Eggleston was a big fan of Kandinsky. On top of and amongst the illustrative patterns, there are words scribbled. A double page spread which reveals a deep-rooted creativity as well as linking back in to his pioneering work in colour photography. The same friend who introduced Eggleston to American Abstract Expressionist work, painter Tom Young, also pushed for his work as an artistic photographer. The two met at the University of Mississippi.
The same wall hosts 3 black and white photo-booth images, individually framed and placed separately. There is something so intimate about these curatorial details; they add a softness to an otherwise purely photographic exhibit. Alongside this is glass-topped table with 5 x 7 black and white film proofs on display. It is noted that Eggleston used to lay out the proofs like this to help him arrange exhibitions and ask for the opinion of others. With just this little part of his character included, the exhibition is given life.
As a photographer, Eggleston was a great documenter of expressions, however subtle or striking they may be. At the end of the first room, on a wall of its own is ‘Untitled’, (c. 1970, Devor Money in Jackson, Mississipi). One of the two largest images in the exhibition (the other is of his uncle), Eggleston encapsulates the character of this distant relation. The elderly woman’s spindly legs are awkwardly paired with arms that rest limply at her side, one hand holding a newly lit cigarette. Her dress and couch cover are prints typical of the 70s. The surrounding background is out of focus but her face isn’t. She looks away from us, seemingly unbothered by the attention. Crisping leaves are scattered at her high-heeled feet. This is a surreal scene - the everyday becomes far from ordinary when looked at for long enough.
Another special image is one which Eggleston identifies, according to The National Portrait Gallery, ‘as his first successful colour photograph.' ‘Untitled’ (1965, Memphis, Tennessee) presents a character very much born out of the 60s. The young boy is pushing shopping trolleys outside a store, his hair is styled into a ‘Grease Lightning’ twirl. A woman to the right arrives out of focus. The light is spectacular, golden and glowing. It is also the front cover of ‘William Eggleston: Portraits'.
This exhibition of portraits is unpretentious and vibrant, just as Eggleston himself seems to be. The National Portrait Gallery’s text accompanying one image reads: 'Eggleston cautions viewers against symbolic interpretations of his works.' The artist asks us as viewers not to look much further than what is before you, leaving us simply to enjoy the sheer beauty of these works.
I read a small piece in The Evening Standard that claimed we, as Instagramming, digi-fluent viewers in 2016, are far less impressed by these colour snapshots of human life than if we had been viewers at the time. It is true that anyone has the power to take a photograph of seemingly commonplace happenings in a matter of seconds. But here is the error in artistic judgment. These are not ordinary photographs, contemporary or not, and it is mind-boggling to think that anyone might mistake them as such.
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