Posts Tagged ‘photography’

Eugène Atget: Old Paris – Art Gallery of NSW

Friday, October 26th, 2012

By Alexander Robinson

Crediting Eugène Atget as the father of documentary photography is a little naïve, for the work of Atget goes beyond that which is visible in his photographs. The significance of Atget’s work is in what he chooses to exclude in his depiction of Paris.  The title of the exhibition, Eugène Atget: Old Paris refers to Baron Haussmann’s development of Paris in the latter half of the 19th Century. As a photographer, Atget attempted to capture and archive a time and a place before it disappeared into the annals of history. Our contemporary notion of documentary photography comes from what Cartier-Bresson called ‘the decisive moment’. But Atget’s work is not concerned with a decisive moment, as much as it is concerned with temporal transcendence. His photography is closer to poetry than documentary, and it is in this context that it is best perceived.

Eugène Atget 'Rue Hautefeuille, 6th arrondissement' 1898

Eugène Atget 'Rue Hautefeuille, 6th arrondissement' 1898

It is the absence of human subjects that often conveys Eugène Atget’s photography as surreal. For this very reason, a group of young Parisian artists in the 1920s were inspired by his work and the very possibilities offered by photography as a surrealist medium. We see the deserted streets of Paris bathed in the luminous glow of dawn. We see disfigured human faces, discombobulated reflections of those who witnessed this wizard’s craft. Atget asserts himself as the master of the photographic medium, manipulating the camera to suit his artistic intentions. Even the playfulness with which his own presence is subtly communicated by the leg of the tripod, reflected in the mirror of a bourgeois interior.

Atget was capable of seeing the distinction between reality and its photographic representation; what the late John Szarkowski called the difference between the object and the subject.  He was aware of the artistic potential of a medium whose very existence was already the slave of modernism. With infinite technical reproducibility and the creation of smaller cameras and faster films, Atget chose to work with obsolete equipment and printing processes. His aesthetic was more in accordance with photography’s founding fathers than the avant-garde. From this comes a certain sense of nostalgia for a time and a place lost with the development of modern society. A sense of nostalgia for a type of photography lost with the development of technology.

For many visitors, this exhibition will be the discovery of Atget, whose albumen prints are appearing in Australia for the first time. Ansel Adams once described that the charm of Atget was his ‘equitable and intimate point of view’. It is this intimacy that makes the work of Atget so appealing: primarily because of the small print size you are invited into the pictures to look closer and examine the details. The significance of the original work of art is particularly pertinent in regard to photography. Furthermore, in the digital age of the 21st century where the photographic print is in decline, we have become accustomed to viewing photography online. How refreshing it is to see the old master in all his glory.

The shock of the old is still new

Wednesday, May 30th, 2012

By Emily Sinclair

Wartime army tank and helicopter, War Remnants Museum, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, photo: Emily Sinclair (2011)

In a world in which society claims to be desensitised to images of violence and war, Emily Sinclair writes how one museum still manages to unsettle its audience.

It seems that in contemporary society, violence and innocent people killed by roadside bombs are a common occurrence in everyday life. It has become so frequent that it is difficult to watch the evening news without an update on some sort of bloodshed, be it domestic or international. Images of warfare are so readily accessible; it is no wonder we have become less impacted by confronting pictures and video footage in the media. The War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, is an exception in this case. It is an institution enveloped in grief, which, without trying, manages to pull at the heartstrings of the visiting public.

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Interview: Ben Ali Ong

Wednesday, May 30th, 2012

By Vanessa Anthea Macris

Ben Ali Ong portrait  Ben Ali Ong

At 30 years of age Sydney photographer Ben Ali Ong has achieved an immense level of success. He has been a finalist in the Blake and Moran photographic prizes to name a few, has exhibited extensively and in 2010 was one of the first photographers to be represented by Tim Olsen galleries. This year he will stage his 13th solo exhibition of his dark, brooding and poetic photographs. Ben kindly took some time out to have a chat about his history, techniques and to provide some tips for emerging artists looking for representation by a gallery.

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Who is Luke Roberts?

Tuesday, October 18th, 2011

By Luke Letourneau

Luke Roberts, Adolph, 2008. Photo Courtesy of the artist.

Luke Roberts is a Nazi. He is also a cowboy, an Indian, a woman, a man and, among other things, an extra-terrestrial spiritual leader in the exhibition AlphaStation/Alphaville. Here lie the many sides of Roberts on display in a collection of photographic performance pieces at the Australian Centre for Photography.

As a performance artist, Roberts has played dress-up for much of his career. His adoption of different personae permits him to explore the constructs and rituals of humanity, investigating how these dictate and limit our understanding of our own identity.

A major character of Roberts’s practice is Pope Alice. This is a construct that appears to be a cross between the Medieval Pope Joan and Lewis Carroll’s Alice. Simply put, it is Roberts dressed up like an alien, dressed up like a Pope. Roberts portrays a character that exists in the world of Catholicism while simultaneously drawing attention to the ostentatious nature of its practices and rituals.

In AlphaStation/Alphaville Roberts remains effervescent in his enthusiasm for adopting characters and employing familiar imagery to engage the audience. This is starkly obvious when first entering the exhibition; you are confronted with Roberts as Hitler, Roberts as Warhol pretending to be Hitler, Roberts as a Nazi solder and Roberts as a peaceful being in prayer.

From there the exhibition is divided into four rooms. Each room explores and addresses themes relating to colonial Australia and identity while continuing Alice’s narrative. The room titled Hidden by Sunlight functions as a retrospective-style room, where the audience can get to know or reacquaint themselves with Alice.

This show is a collection of contrasts and contradictions. Roberts is at one point both the enemy and the victim, the male and the female, the cowboy and the Indian. However, Roberts is rarely concealed behind makeup or Photoshop. He never attempts to hide behind a character. He simply throws on a cheap wig and some flimsy costume. At every moment Roberts is so obviously staring back at you in the guise of many different people; you are forced to confront your own multiplicity.

The star of this show is Children of Alpha 1, 2009, an image impossible not to become absorbed by. It is an image of Alice glaring at the audience from a bare rural landscape. The photograph is positioned so that its horizon line appears roughly a metre off the gallery’s floor. This has the interesting effect of pushing the sky out of the frame and onto the naked gallery wall. Given the history of Alice as a recurring fixture of Roberts practice (observed in the Retrospective Room) and all that Alice and AlphaStation/Alphaville have come to represent, you can’t help but join with Roberts in recognising the immensity of who we are.

With AlphaStation/Alphaville Roberts refuses to answer for who he is but this is because he can’t. No one can. We are never only one identity. We are the masculine, the feminine, the victim, and the enemy.

Luke Roberts: AlphaStation/Alphaville, Australian Centre for Photography, Sydney, 17 June – 23 July 2011.

A Documentary Photographer Delves into the Staged

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

Krystal Seigerman

Charles Hewitt Gallery, 22nd July- 9th August 2010.

The first impression is of the frames; in silver, black, gold and bone, they are both exquisitely ornate and somewhat overbearing. However the photographs are unnerving in their intensity and they soon draw the viewer in.

Tamara Dean’s recent exhibition, This Too Shall Pass, is in some ways a natural transition. Dean has worked as a photojournalist at the Sydney Morning Herald for nearly a decade and joined the independent photo agency Oculi soon after it was established in 2000. Her documentary work has long been characterised by a palpable intimacy made possible due to a strong rapport with her subjects.

In recent years Dean has travelled beyond pure reportage, fluidly incorporating the genres of classical portraiture and landscape. For her series Ritualism and Divine Rites Dean imagined scenes rich in symbolism and archetype, referencing sources as diverse as the Heidelberg School and the Pre-Raphaelites.

The fourteen images from This Too Shall Pass continue Dean’s exploration of spirituality through staged photographs. Shot mainly in decaying urban locations, Sydney morphs into a world where nature threatens to claw back control. The ephemeral nature of the locations echo one of documentary photography’s central concerns- to record our visual history before it disappears. Indeed Dean contends that most of these locations have now been transformed, hence the melancholy title borrowed from a well-worn proverb.

Although Dean includes some male models, it is the girls and young women who dominate. As in her documentary practice these women are Dean’s friends, family and acquaintances; strong women, they navigate their place in an ambiguous world. While Dean uses period costume, there are deliberate slippages. In The Evocationtwo women in gypsy dress crouch on rocks in the foreground as a full moon rises. The otherworldly atmosphere is interrupted by a subject’s tattoo peeking through her crimson shawl. These women are simultaneously exotic, yet human.

In This Too Shall Pass it is always dusk; blues and greens dominate with fleeting touches of complimentary yellows and reds. Dean’s use of low-key lighting is luminous and adept, with echoes of Bill Henson’s complex chiaroscuro. In Kath, a girl on the verge of womanhood stands in profile within a shadowy room as light falls from behind, modelling the folds of her simple cream dress. Her face is transformed into a silhouette, reminiscent of a delicate cameo brooch.

These formal portraits are in danger of jarring against the looser, exterior scenes, yet the consistent visual style holds them together.

Although stylised, Dean’s images are freer and more dynamic than her contemporaries, such as Samantha Everton. While Everton uses complex studio lighting and seamless photomontage techniques to create staged tableaux, Dean’s work remains indebted to her photojournalistic origins, with a use of subject movement and textured film grain.

As for the frames, a gallery staff member counters that Dean sees her practice as belonging to a continuum of art history and the framing further alludes to this tradition. It is intriguing to imagine where on this continuum Dean will voyage to next.

Tamara Dean

Kath

2010

Pure pigment print on archival cotton rag

85 x 66cm

Courtesy and copyright of the artist

‘Dream/Life’ – Trent Parke

Monday, October 11th, 2010

Untitled in Dream/Life

This untitled black and white photograph from Trent Parke’s first publication, Dream/Life, captures an intense loneliness and sense of futility emblematic of living in a chaotic metropolis. A flock of Japanese tourists march separately through the wide-angle frame, towards some unknown destination. Parke’s signature grainy, high contrast technique diminishes the men to anonymous ‘suits;’ they become faceless silhouettes set against menacing clouds. Sydney’s skyline is only vaguely recognisable, the Harbour Bridge reduced to an insignificant arch. The low angle and repetition of shapes create a complex tableau that is at once universal and hauntingly surreal.

Trent Parke

Untitled

1999

Gelatin silver print

24 x 36cm

Courtesy and copyright of the artist

http://www.stillsgallery.com.au/artists/parke/

Krystal Seigerman

Polaroid Instant Camera

Monday, October 11th, 2010

Penny Xu

Target age: 9-12

I’m sure you have seen photos on your parent’s digital cameras or mobile phones. Maybe you have even taken some photos yourself. It wasn’t so hard, was it? Just press the button and the image appears on the screen. However, taking photos was not always that easy. Back when people had to use films, they sometimes had to wait for up to a week to see the photos they took, until one day, when a girl asked her dad “Why can’t I see them now?” Her dad thought this was a brilliant idea. His name was Edwin Land and he went back to his laboratory and invented a special type of camera called Polaroid. When you take a photo with a Polaroid, the photo comes out of the camera instantly.

When a photo has just come out of a Polaroid, it is still a dark brown, nearly black colour. It takes a few minutes for the image to show up on the surface and the chemicals to dry. Some artists make special effects on the photo while it is still wet. Look at the picture below. It is a photo generated by a Polaroid camera, but doesn’t it look like a painting of wiggling strokes? Have a guess of how this was made.

People use Polaroids to make ‘instant’ photos, usually without too much thought. As soon as a cat jumps off a wall or a person makes an interesting expression, they press the shutter button and capture the moment which will be gone in the next second. The man making a funny smiling face in the photo below is Andy Warhol, a famous American artist. He was obsessed with Polaroid and took a lot of portraits with it. When he really liked how the person looks on the photo, he went back to his studio and painted it out.

Penny Xu

Polaroid Instant Cameras

2009

digital photography

42 x 32cm

Although it is very convenient for people to see their photos, Polaroid lacks functionality and quality. You won’t find many buttons and knobs on a Polaroid. Polaroid photos can be quite different from what you see with your naked eyes. However, some artists took advantages of this. Look at the photos taken by Andrien Tarkovsky, a Russian film director, and Hungarian photographer Andre Kertesz. The first photo, by Tarkovsky, looks like a very old image. It was instantly “aged” when it came out of the camera.

The other photo looks like two people bending their heads towards each other, but can you work out what the objects really are? I can’t, because I’ve never seen anything like that before!  Polaroid photos may be not accurate records of what you see with your naked eyes, but this also means it may surprise you with something very beautiful, just like those two photos.