Psychogeography

The Filbert Steps, Telegraph Hill, San Francisco.

"Mindfully engaging with a physical place, looking at the geography, landmarks, and architecture and responding to them in a literary or artistic manner."

I think most of us (photographers) have used these techniques many times when making work. To have a conceptual term like psychogeography as a framework for analysing and critiquing the work is useful. For previous assignments I've made images both at the location of my childhood home and were I now live. Both pieces were successful because of an ability to relate to the landscape in a personal way. Personal identification with an area or building adds authenticity that is usually perceived by the viewer and makes the work stronger.

OCA student Jodie Taylor's work 'Memories from Childhood' is a case in point. The images are used in the course notes for this section on genres and psychogeography. In the work I was instantly drawn to the similarity in environments in which I grew up. As a kid listlessly hanging around behind the public garages on a hot summer's day, is something I distinctly remember doing. Taylor's images connected me to that memory so strongly I could even smell baked concrete. It is through the photographer's subjective interpretation of place that connections can be made with viewers that may share a commonality of experience. Other viewers with vastly different backgrounds will pass over images such as this.

I do not think it is possible to provide an objective depiction of a place. Although many claim to do so. Bias is within all of us. We are influenced by our upbringing, culture, and formed points of view. And I don't think there is anything wrong with that. It is when points of view are presented as fact and objective that photographic works unravels in my opinion.

Taryn Simon

Taryn Simon's work 'The American Index of the Hidden and Unfamiliar' sets up interesting juxtapositions between the image and its text. Simon photographs American spaces or subjects that are usually off limits to the general public, such as government research and defence establishments, cryogenic research labs, and vials of AIDS virus.

Simon explains that the detailed text anchors her images and create an "invisible space between text and its accompanying image". The artist goes on to say that photographs appear to show objective reality but there are a number of versions of reality; namely, the photographer's intent, interpretation of the viewer, and context. It is in these 'invisible spaces' between image and text that multiple versions of reality can arise.

Photography is often used to assert a point of view, claiming that a photograph is 'objective proof' to back up an argument. Thinking about hegemonic control and representation of any society from a broader perspective than just photography, I'm reminded by a quote on American capitalist consumer society by Jean Baudrillard:

Disneyland is presented as imaginary in order to make us believe that the rest [America] is real.

I find this a very intriguing concept. A sort of misdirection in play in order to pacify or deceive a population. Interestingly Taryn Simon was rejected by Disneyworld from making work there - as they wanted to preserve the fantasy for guests during troubled times. The notion that one 'thing' is represented as fantasy to hide the fact that another 'thing' (American consumer society, the American dream, democracy - call it what you will) is just a similar illusion is very thought provoking.

These ideas parallel with the science fiction movie The Matrix. In the film the main character is persuaded to take a pill in order for his mind to be unlocked from a vast fantasy (the everyday world). This illusion of reality is being fed to him via tubes directly into his brain from an embryonic gunk filled bubble in which he is kept unconscious as his energy is harvested by robots. When he awakes he sees the world for what it is and has an existential crisis with guns blazing in true Hollywood style. As enjoyable as the film is, its core message is not about robots and spacecraft and men in cool leather coats and sunglasses. The underlying message is to wake up and critically analyse the world around us; question the representations that are publicly made as fact or truth about the world on our behalf; and to ask ourselves who are making these statements and why?

I digress. To get back to Simon's other work "The Innocents" she photographs men that have been found guilty of violent crimes they did not commit. In these cases photographs were used for identification purposes by police. When the victim was unsure but saw similarities in an image, photographs were used again and again to direct the victim until eventually the images replaced the victim's own unreliable memory.

Simon says about the work that "photography had been used to create a fantasy  - contradicting its function as evidence of a truth. It furthered the fabrication of a lie."

Truth and reality is a slippery thing. Our memories are at best unreliable and self-deceiving. Photography both reinforces the lie and exposes it at the same time.

Responding to the archive

In "Reading an archive: photography between labour and capital." Allan Sekula makes the point that archives are not neutral. They have been collected and collated by people, cultures, corporations, states, with an inherent bias in one form or another. "Photographic archives by their very structure maintain a hidden connection between knowledge and power".

Sekula goes on to describe how since the 1920s photographs have been produced by the picture press, government and advertising, for many purposes. That these pictures are now drawn from the archive and used to represent 'history' without comment on their original source is "naive or even cynical". Sekula goes on to ask "What present interests might be served by such an oversight?"

When photographs are used as historical documentary evidence they can skew perceptions. "Awareness of history as an interpretation of the past succumbs to a faith in history as representation. The viewer is confronted, not by historical-writing, but by the appearance of history itself".

"In an archive, the possibility of meaning is 'liberated' from the actual contingencies of use. But this liberation is also a loss, an abstraction from the complexity and richness of use, a loss of context. Thus the specificity of 'original' uses and meanings can be avoided, even made invisible, when photographs are selected from an archive and reproduced in a book."

Sekula illustrates this point with archived images taken by a commercial photographer in a coal mining town. The images consist of photographs of mining machinery used to illustrate company brochures and annual reports, alongside portrait images of miners and their community. These two kinds of images, although taken from the same commercial photographer's archive, have different contexts and would have been read in different ways (which Sekula describes as informational or sentimental). In their original context the images would be printed on different types of paper too; glossy brochure paper and family prints that informed the viewer of value through physical touch. These elements of 'informational and sentimental' are lost when the photographs are removed from the archive and printed alongside each other in a book. The 'radical antagonism' between these looks are eclipsed. Sekula describes the results of this homogenised process as "abstract visual equivalence".

It is always worth remembering that "photographs construct an imaginary world and pass it off as reality".





Sekula A. (2007). Visual Culture: a reader. Chpt 12 (Reading an archive: photography between labour and capital (1983)).

Personal Journeys and Fictional Autobiography

In this genre the work of Richard Billingham, Nan Goldin, Larry Sultan and Robert Mapplethorpe are the ones I am most familiar. Using personal family or life experience to make work can be a useful untapped source for a photographer. Hidden perspectives that do or do not form part of common experience can help raise many intriguing questions for the viewer about the world we live in.

Goldin and Billingham's work appears to show a warts and all 'true' perspective of the lives of a group of people going about their lives - almost unaware, or a least comfortable, with the camera's presence. The work ostensibly presents as 'documentary' in outlook. Another approach would be Sultan and Mapplethorpe's posed and considered images. These appear more like a succession of contextual portraits with a point of view. Although it would be a mistake to assume that Goldin and Billingham are any less selective or aware of the artistic/aesthetic process when they make work.

I had the pleasure of seeing the Mapplethorpe retrospective at the Guggenheim in LA very recently. Mapplethorpe's subject matter, whether portrait or still life, uses the formal qualities of black and white Modernist photography to convey its message. The subjects are a mixture of self portraits, celebrity and model portraits, still life lilies, and Gay S&M practises. The work in many instances exuded a dark and vibrant quality that offset what could be a very formal Modernist aesthetic.

The S&M work in particular was presented in long glass cases in its original form; a set of prints that formed a portfolio of images that were housed in a box with a solid black cover. A large X was embossed into the top to denote a secretive world of pain and pleasure within that may not be suitable for the feint hearted viewer.

Tableaux

In an interview with the The Telegraph, Hannah Starkey talks about the use of mirrors, reflection and smoke in her work. Starkey depicts mundane everyday moments; events in contemporary women's life where the subjects are usually contemplative, absorbed and alone or isolated from a group. Starkey's work is constructed; and it is through the use of mirrors and other fluid qualities like smoke and reflections that Starkey is able to add depth and complexity to her work. Starkey says that "mirrors are a route of escape... the subconscious mind [of the viewer] travelling through the picture." It is these qualities that Starkey incorporates to enable abstraction into the picture, into the everyday, and leaves elements of her work open to interpretation.

I found myself agreeing with Starkey's comments in her interview. I've long been intrigued by mirrors and particularly windows in my own work. I feel they both hold connotations that signify escape. The use of smoke too and also reflections are more abstract depictions of the same idea. I've never thought about using them before to imply the same abstract feelings.  

Research Point - Gregory Crewdson

As an undergraduate Art student Gregory Crewdson took classes with Film Noir theorist Tom Gunning. He was also heavily influenced by the work of Hitchcock and David Lynch. The genres of melodrama and horror, such as the films 'Rosemary's Baby' and 'Blue Velvet' are examples Crewdson gives of films that are "accessible but have a darker underside".

The construction of Crewdson's tableau require sets using Hollywood style production techniques. Locations can take months to scout, and a crew of 40 is required to set up lighting gantries, rain and smoke machines. The human subjects are directed on set like actors (although Crewdson laughingly acknowledges they are more like objects). The outcome is a highly stylised 'movie feel' image.

The work has been described as 'other worldly' and a 'tableau of small town America'. The resulting images are dramatic and compelling. They denote captured in-between moments, tense with anticipation of what has gone before or after - the viewer is left to fill in the narrative. These in-between moments also connote an off screen human crisis. Crewdson's affinity with films that have a darker underside plays out in his own work.

In an interview with The American Reader.com Crewdson is asked if "setting up the sets is reminiscent of childhood elements of play" and was he ever "frustrated or limited during play?" Crewdson thinks this is a "beautiful point" and states that he did indeed make miniature worlds as a child and was very persistent in his attention to detail. The notion of childhood frustration is sidestepped or overlooked.

I can see the relevance of the question. Children often learn about the world through fantasy and play. Unfortunately it can also be the only means of escape from a troubled childhood. This question made me think about my childhood experiences and how I approach my own work. The Rubber Flapper piece could be described as a constructed fantasy world; one with dark undertones that are embedded at a deeper (even unconscious) level than I've ever thought about before. And now that I type this, another image that I made that was actually inspired by Crewdson immediately springs to mind as having darker undertones that relate to my childhood.

"Flashback" From assignment 3, PWDP.

Research sources:

theamericanreader.com

criterion.com

These images were taken at Seattle Art museum (SAM). For a while now I've been intrigued by the use of masks in Art (and society in general) to perform identities. So I was especially pleased to find an interesting collection of masks during my visit. I've used masks in my own work, and think I still have some exploring to do in regards to the concept - although what that is I'm not sure yet.