Museum Responses

Hey Guys, sorry this is late---I forgot/lost my username!

Robert Frank @ The Met
When reading Jack Kerouac’s introduction to the book The Americans, the line that struck me most was “the faces don’t editorialize or criticize or say anything but “this is the way we are in real life and if you don’t like it I don’t know anything about it ‘cause I’m living my own life my way…”. It is an idea that seems to fit hand in hand with Franks photos and the remainder of Kerouac’s introduction, in which he seems to attempt nothing more than to lovingly describe the images. He does not attempt to explain their meaning or their criticism of the state of America, and I don’t believe Frank does that in his photographs either. What this show did for me, was show (mainly through the inclusion of contact sheets) that Frank didn’t photograph with only certain statements and criticisms in mind, but that he found himself drawn to photos with certain types of content during the editing process. This seems supportive of an idea that I personally hold-that one cannot know what ones project is about until it is over. Looking at the contact sheets I saw simply a reflection of the artist as man going across the united states photographing whatever appealed to him on a basic level, and going back later to find the meaning of it. Perhaps this is why, when presented in the format of the tour we took, I find the abuse of keywords and overarching themes so presuming. To present the work as if Robert Frank was thinking “the way this trumpet covers his face represents the way this mans voice has been taken” is attributing, in my opinion, too much intentionality than can possible be present in such a moment. To try to add deep cultural and symbolic meaning to each photo in The Americans takes away from his power, for I believe there are many images in the show that cannot be so simply reduced to statements on money, or power, or race, or fame. I would agree that many of those themes are in the work, but I believe it is because they are themes that are constant in our lives and or culture, and therefore are often present in photographic work regardless of the photographers intention, be it to capture those themes or not. Perhaps the fact that Frank edited his photos in a way that underlines the irony in many of these themes (with the irony making the themes more obvious) is what makes his work so clearly timeless despite the fact that they are obviously of their time. If the themes are timeless, then the work that makes us conscious of them is sure to be as well. In this way, Kerouac seems to be the perfect choice of writer for The Americans-as a writer he is not only of his time, but defined many aspects of it, but in his description of Frank’s work, he is able to pull himself out of time, describing the work only in a way that is relatable and forever true and relevant.
I thought the show itself presented the work in a unique way, one that I wish was more commonplace especially with documentary style photographers. I thought the inclusion of conact sheets, maps, the Guggenheim application and letters between Frank and Walker Evans really put the work in context, and that this context strengthens the work by allowing, or perhaps even forcing, the viewer to think not only of the artwork, but of the adventure that Frank went through as well. I think that Frank himself wanted to explore this extra facet of his work-not just the art he produces and the way it effects the world, but the way that the world he experienced in that time effected him. In my mind, that is why he concluded The Americans with a photo of his family and his car-he moves through multiple sections and ideas of “America”, but ultimately ends the project on a personal note. I thought the letters between Frank and Evans were great, because one thing that is specific to photography is the very real possibility that a photographer can be absent from his photographs. I don’t believe this is a problem that plagued Frank, as his images are clearly his own, but it was interesting to move past simply his artistic voice, and hear anecdotes from the day to day, such as the letter about going through the Mexican border. I think it is often more interesting, perhaps only from the perspective of a working artist, to have access to an artists “artistic voice” and “real” voice- because the similiarites and the differences often make the artistic voice more honest and more believable, at least to me- but I am probably too skeptical most of the time.

Dress Codes @ ICP
One of the things I found most interesting about this show was the clear dependence on text. With a title like “Dress Codes” one may expect the ICP Triennial to be a show that requires some explanation on a thematic level, made up of projects that need explanation both in relation to the “Dress Codes” show, and just in general. The show had a wide range of work; while some of the pieces were helped by the explanation, some were hindered. Some works remained, in my mind, nonsensical, despite the text, and some incorporated text in a very interesting way. The idea of image and text is one that has been on my mind for a while, predominately because I fell myself to be a great lover of both words and images, but am unsure how I feel about them in combination. Perhaps it is because photography is one of the few art forms that is always being explained and justified, or perhaps it is just that these explanations and justifications are almost always found alongside the photographs they are meant for in display spaces, while no Renaissance painting is ever accompanied by an explanatory text. Perhaps the artist, date, and style, but the explanations and interpretations are left for the papers of art historians, in separate publications. This show at ICP included at least one explanation per artist, although some works also incorporated text on their own as well.
The photograph “Hastings Park, 16 July 1955” by Stan Douglas was an image that I enjoyed, and I found that the text was used to inform the viewer of Douglas’s process and stellar historical expertise. The text was used to tell the viewer that this was not a single photograph but a composite of 30 or so single images, a fact which makes Douglas’s work all the more impressive and unique. The rest of the text talks about Douglas’s dedication to details, using the costuming to subtly indicate the time and place that the event he is chronicling took place. While these subtle details may not tell me that this photo is meant to be Hastings Park in 1955, I appreciated the fact that the text explaining it stuck mainly to process and form, rather than meaning and interpretations. My first thought, when looking at this photo, was “Mad Men”. The show Mad Men is unanimously lauded for the precise way it captures a moment in time, and this photo does the same thing- the viewer knowing how dedicated Douglas is to capturing that moment even in the details only enhances the photo, causing the viewer to stop and deeply examine buttons, and hairstyles and tie size.
A project I reacted poorly to was Kota Ezawa’s “IKEA” series. My reaction to this, I think, was based neither on text or image specifically. I looked at the work, and enjoyed it visually, I just found the graphics pleasing, but had no idea what it was about. So I looked to the text, hoping at this point (it was one of the last few pieces I saw) that I would read a brilliant and enlightening explanation and suddenly love the work for more than just the graphic design. But sadly, what I read disappointed me. Almost none of it made sense to me- “the IKEA series makes particular use of the connection between illuminated transparencies and commercial advertising”-wait, what? What is the connection between transparencies and advertising? And it didn’t say in the text. “Ezawa comments ironically on the notional disjunct between the promise of a unique style and the prefabricated, mass-produced products.” I don’t know if it was just me, but this struck me as typical art speak, that I could barely wrap my head around and certainly didn’t find in the work before I read the text. I’m not even sure I found it in the work afterwards. I could make vague, sketchy jumps and assumptions about the meaning of these words and the work they are discussing, but that leaves a bad taste in my mouth (like I am bullshitting myself) and instead I chose to just walk away from the work altogether.
The last work I saw, and the one I think I stood near the longest, was Julika Rudelius’s video “Tagged”. The text I found myself paying the most attention to in this piece was the text that was a part of the work-the subtitles. I didn’t even feel a need to read the plaque until after I had sat and watched the video for about 20 minutes. Although, I admit, I did obsess a bit over the subtitles. What would the difference be to the project if these kids were speaking English and you didn’t need subtitles? Would it be more interesting because you could more easily tell which person is saying what at the moments when two screens are playing simultaneously? And when I read the text I was not disappointed. It answered a few questions I had, (such as, were these interviews prearranged? “Rudelius asked several young men of Moroccan or Turkish descent who live in the Netherlands to bring suitcases full of their own clothing to a hotel room and try on various outfits.”) And the rest of the text seemed only to recap information that I felt I had picked up simply from watching the video.
Perhaps Rudelius’s video had the added advantage of language and movement, but nonetheless it was the piece I was most satisfied with. To simply absorb a piece of work, without needing an outside source of any kind (be it plaque or tour guide or artist statement) and understand it, or for it to be valid to enjoy a piece of work only visually, without being forced to swallow a far fetched explanation makes art that much more enjoyable, accessible, and successful. To set out to make a statement in the art world is all the more impressive if one is able to do it without the safety net and comfort of words and explanation. To have the ability to make art that can stand alone, and to have the faith that your art is strong enough to do so, is one of the hardest things. But I think the general obsession with the question “is photography art?” allows all photographers to constantly feel insecure about the strength of their art (because no one even knows if the best photography is art), and makes it acceptable for more and more of them to rely on textual explanations.