(Continued from today's earlier post.)
Reviews by Geoff Wittig
Full Frame
by David Noton (David & Charles, October 2010) (U.K. link
)
The Landscape seems an easy subject for photography at first blush. It doesn’t move, or threaten to smash your camera. Just point your lens at a beautiful vista, press the shutter button, and bingo, you’re in business. Right? Um, no.
Worthwhile and original landscape images require a lot of work. One frequently starts with an idea for a beautiful photograph. Say, a dramatic mountainside or waterfall in perfect light, inspired by one of those peak moments you’ve experienced in nature. You scout for ideal locations you know, or found with Google Earth or paper maps. You figure out the optimal time of year for the best foliage, or ideal snow cover, or good spring runoff. Then you visit the site and identify the most promising compositions and framing. You determine the focal length and depth of field you'll need. You calculate where the sun will set and rise, or when it will clear that ridge to the east. Next you follow the weather, waiting for just the right mix of sun and clouds, or morning fog, or the bright overcast that will best illuminate your subject. When conditions look promising you hike to your chosen spot, typically well before sunrise, and wait for the light. Most of the time, you curse as a giant cloud blots out the sun a moment before the light is ideal, or the wind comes up and sets those autumn leaves into frenzied motion. When it's clear that magic isn’t happening today you pack up your gear, and you come back the next morning. And the next. And...finally, if you're lucky, it all comes together for one perfect instant. If you don't waste too much time setting the exposure or fumbling with the grad filter. After all that preparation time, in the end you're frequently racing to make the exposure. It's exhilarating when you finally click the shutter, and know that you have it.
That’s the experience that encourages me to keep at it.
David Noton is an English landscape photographer working with digital capture, after many years shooting transparency film. Full Frame is a straightforward account of ten photographic journeys, from nearby Dorset to far away Laos and Bolivia. Noton details the thinking and preparation that went into each excursion, and narrates the 100 photographs reproduced in the book. For each photograph he describes getting to the site, the æsthetic and technical decisions behind the actual exposure, and some of the post-processing required to get the best out of the resulting image. He also ruefully notes the near-misses and disappointments. I repeatedly found myself smiling in recognition.
The format is more interesting than the typical how-to book, yet it still covers a lot of technical ground. Noton describes the essentials of optimal raw exposure and post-capture sharpening, but regards them simply as tools to achieve the desired æsthetic goal, not as ends in themselves. He dismisses HDR software for its typically artificial-looking output, instead masking and blending separate exposures to deal with excess contrast. And he explains why he sold his 617 panoramic film camera within days of returning from Canada with several spectacular panoramic images stitched from multiple digital captures. The photographs themselves are lovely, ranging from conventional postcard beauty to more somber and moody images.
For me perhaps the most appealing part of this book is Noton’s perseverance in the face of adversity. Two weeks of frustration with miserable weather in Bali came down to a single beautiful photograph taken just before boarding his return flight. Murky skies choked with ash and dust from slash and burn agriculture in Laos made attempting a traditional landscape image an exercise in futility, so instead he captured a stunning portrait of a young girl. I'll keep this in mind the next time I’m rained out on a vacation photo trip during a precious week off from work.
Readers who like Noton's photography and his wry written "voice" might also check out Waiting For The Light (David & Charles, 2008) (U.K. link
). It is another appealing mix of entertaining anecdotes, useful tips and beautiful photographs.
-
Detroit Disassembled
by Andrew Moore, Damiani/Akron Art Museum, April 2010)(U.K. link
)
Photographic monographs featuring ruined and decaying buildings are prominent these days; I reviewed a bunch of them a while back*. Detroit Disassembled is a worthy addition to the genre, both for its subject matter and its æsthetics. Andrew Moore’s impossibly lush and detailed large format images of abandoned factories and decaying warehouses (you can see small JPEGs of some of them at his website) are simply stunning. They draw striking formal beauty from the most unlikely sources. I especially enjoyed a Dali-esque melting clock face on a peeling wall, and the vivid green floor of an abandoned headquarters office whose carpet has turned to moss.
If you like the formal beauty of the work of Edward Burtynsky or Stephen Shore, you’ll like this book as well. The images are followed by an elegiac essay by poet Phillip Levine, who grew up in Detroit and mourns what it has become. I grew up in Buffalo, which is now a similar post-industrial ruined landscape, so this book really hit home for me.
-
The Düsseldorf School of Photography
by Stefan Gronert (Aperture [Thames & Hudson in the U.K.], February 2010) (U.K. link
)
It would be difficult to exaggerate the influence of Bernd and Hilla Becher and their numerous students at the Düsseldorf Kunstakademie on photography’s place in the contemporary art world. Bernd Becher became the first professor of photographic art in Germany in 1976, one year after the Bechers' participation in the landmark New Topographics exhibition at George Eastman House. Their cool, formal, unsentimental approach to photographic documentation of industrial structures was about as far from Ansel Adams as one could get. It's apparent that the Bechers encouraged experimentation in their students; the diversity of approaches and subject matter is impressive. One can argue that they all seem to share a certain gimlet-eyed skeptical coolness in their art, but I may be reaching a bit. The book starts with an introductory essay by Stefan Gronert detailing the history of the school from the Bechers' arrival, and their place in the contemporary European art world. Next is a summary of each artist's work; one can debate some of the critical judgments, but it's an excellent introduction to the work of photographers such as Andreas Gursky, Candida Höfer, Thomas Struth and Elger Esser.
Included is a clever digression on the subject of giant-sized prints, and the connection between the work of the Düsseldorf photographers and other contemporaries like Jeff Wall and Cindy Sherman. The text has (I believe) been translated from the original German, but survives with meaning largely intact and is easily comprehended. I found it a lot easier to follow than much of the turgid "artspeak" found in the pages of the average issue of Aperture. The reproductions are grouped by artist, and are of very high quality. The Bechers' "typologies" are well served, with their characteristic grids of images. Andreas Gursky's infamous 99¢ is reproduced double truck, and is none the worse for it. Candida Höfer’s meticulous library images look great, as do Axel Hütte’s enigmatic landscapes.
I readily confess to a prejudice against this style of photography, but this monumental book does justice to the images themselves, and does a fine job of putting this group of artists in perspective. (One factoid I would never have guessed: the 19th century American landscape painter Albert Bierstadt, perhaps the most celebrated and popular of the "Rocky Mountain" descendents of the Hudson River school, learned his craft at the Düsseldorf Kunstakademie.) Highly recommended for anyone interested in contemporary art photography.
Geoff-
*Detroit in particular seems to have photographers descending on it to mine its post-industrial decay for dramatic effect, most notably in Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre's The Ruins of Detroit, a book which came out only in May but has been "steidled": that is, it's temporarily gone out of print while it awaits a possible second printing. You can see some of the work from it at Marchand and Meffre's website, including their picture of the same clock Geoff describes seeing in Andrew Moore's book (see below). —Ed.
Andrew Moore, National Time, Detroit, from Detroit Disassembled
Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre, Melted clock, Cass Technical High School, from The Ruins of Detroit
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Original contents copyright 2011 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.
I really like the Dusseldorf book, except that it seems like many of the most interesting images are run across the gutter. I would prefer they printed them rotated/smaller than break them up the way they did.
Posted by: Jerry Thirsty | Tuesday, 18 January 2011 at 06:37 PM
Geoff's preamble to David Noton's book (a book I haven't seen or have any opinion on) describes a particular class of landscape photography that increasingly I find hollow ... though popular with many aspiring photographers and undiscerning buyers alike. Spectacular (and usually distant) landscapes captured in perfect light and with impeccable technique to me are just meaningless landscape porn. They say little about the everyday world, other than the fact that such magnificent vistas exist and somebody got off their bum to capture them. I doubt Paul Caponigro and Robert Adams (to give just two examples) have the same preoccupation, even if their approach is no less rigorous. What characterizes the works of the latter is imagery that transcends their subject matter, rather than being dependent on it.
The Düsseldorf book looks interesting.
Posted by: Stephen Best | Tuesday, 18 January 2011 at 06:47 PM
Anyone interested in other thoughts on Moore's book (as well as Meffre's) might be interested in this essay by John Patrick Leary: http://www.guernicamag.com/features/2281/leary_1_15_11/
Posted by: Mike | Tuesday, 18 January 2011 at 09:25 PM
Any genre has the potential to descend into pr0n. One acquaintance pointed me at a website of Detroit work and described it as "ruin porn." I'm still trying to decide if its pr0n or not. Is it without redeeming social importance? I'm leaning towards it has redeeming value: it documents not only the decline of a city, but also the beauty of decay, and the fate that all of our works are heading towards.
Posted by: Archer Sully | Tuesday, 18 January 2011 at 09:31 PM
Stephen Best notes that spectacular landscape photographs "say little about the everyday world, other than the fact that such magnificent vistas exist..."
Well, exactly. Despite the violence we've done to this planet, countless little slices of paradise remain to confirm there's something to existence beyond consumption and conflict. The contrast with daily life is kind of the point.
I too greatly enjoy Paul Caponigro's subtle photographic meditations, and I can appreciate the devotion to form behind Robert Adams' work. I hope most people have not lost the capacity to enjoy a beautiful landscape image.
Katherine Thayer's elegant 2004 essay "Embracing Beauty: The Post-Modern Pictorialist Landscape Photograph" addresses just this issue. It can be found in Lenswork #53.
Posted by: Geoff Wittig | Tuesday, 18 January 2011 at 11:18 PM
Stephen Best: dissatisfaction with landscape photography, thou heretic!
There is an element of contrivance in landscape which I think can itself become all-encompassing, especially given that people rate only the finished article and never see the effort you've put into it.
Better to make the best of the opportunities you do get within reason than to sit around waiting to the end of time for something that's not going to happen. ("Within reason" extends to climbing up a mountain to get a view off the top on the proviso that you expect variable weather up there; waiting might be limited to half an hour per frame.)
Selectivity is harder than people give it credit for. Think of the number of twigs in the forest; the proportion that will fall and remain on a single-lane road in any given morning; the proportion that are shaped like a particularly curvy "y" that draws my attention; the proportion that don't have clutter around them; the proportion of those I actually see whilst walking.
Methinks there be truth in heresy after all.
Then again I embrace occasional tasteful use of HDR, so what do I know?
Posted by: Tim | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 03:17 AM
David Noton's despatches are always in interesting read...
http://www.davidnoton.com/despatches.php
Posted by: Kris | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 05:17 AM
You can see samples of David Noton’s work on his website and sample the book on Amazon and I must agree with Stephen Best above. They consist of the usual National Geographic inspired exotic portraits, colourful landscapes, zany compositions etc, etc; the padding of a thousand amateur photography magazines. They are in my opinion, proficient but shallow empty images that tell us nothing new about the world, just the same old tired escapist clichés. I’d swap all of his images for a single Robert Adams outtake.
As for the Düsseldorf School of Photography, I have a copy and yes it is very interesting. The camera used to interrogate our world and to assess what we are actually doing to it. It is only through brutally honest photography will we ever get a true picture of the state of our environment and perhaps give us the tools to overcome the damage we are doing. Noton’s images are just an ostrich head in the sand and not a particularly interesting ostrich either, though it might have nice side lighting.
Posted by: phil martin | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 06:36 AM
I agree absolutely with Stephen Best... meaningless landscape porn done by the old British Velvia brigade now all turned digital. I also admit I´ve been trying unsuccessfully this same sort of photography for the last nine years, so I´m just as guilty.
Posted by: Paul | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 07:23 AM
I am a little tired of looking at abandoned buildings. I've had to look at them most of my life. Gentrification is putting a stop to that. I'm not sure which is worse but I am sure that the article below is right about a lot of ruin porn
http://www.onthemedia.org/transcripts/2009/09/25/06
Posted by: Sean | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 07:30 AM
Here, by the way, is an interesting article about what the author calls "ruin porn," i.e. photography and other art depicting abandoned urban areas. Those who are interested in such work might find it thought-provoking.
http://www.guernicamag.com/features/2281/leary_1_15_11/
I myself find it very much a case of "don't blame the messenger," but I did enjoy the article.
Posted by: MarcW | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 08:51 AM
They say little about the everyday world, other than the fact that such magnificent vistas exist and somebody got off their bum to capture them.
Ahem.
Do you think the world would be a richer place if people didn't share such magnificent vistas? What of the rest of us who have few, or no chances to see them?* Where would the future Adams and Caponigros get their practice in order to become 'great' if there weren't people doing this kind of photography? Or funding for this kind of photography? For 'weak examples' that sell support the genre just as well as great ones.
Sure, technical rigor isn't the same thing as artistic merit. But it doesn't mean technical rigor isn't admirable, even if not for aesthetic reasons. Someone has to do this work, for all our sakes.
In any case it is the only way to get to certain kinds of images, or to get the necessary experience to produce the kinds of images that have artistic merit.
Will
*and let us now praise the printers and pressmen, great and small who make such seeing possible too.
Posted by: Will Frostmill | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 11:03 AM
I have to agree with Stephen on this- there seems to a preoccupation with the grand vista, "everything from my toes to the end of the world in focus" style of landscape photography.
I can't fault it on technique, but it does tend to leave me cold emotionally.
Posted by: Brendan Gara | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 11:14 AM
Jerry I could not agree more. Printing over the gutter is a definitive no no. Rotating is the way to go. I want to study these shots and a gutter does not help. Bought the book a few days ago at "Der Rote Bulli", featuring Stephen Shore and the Düsseldorfer Schule. And for whom can't get enough of them, a Thomas Struth retrospective will be shown in Düsseldorf from Februari 26th in Haus 20 am Grabbeplatz. Just a 50km drive for me.
Greetings, Ed
Posted by: Ed | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 11:25 AM
Interesting article on recent photography in Detroit: http://www.guernicamag.com/features/2281/leary_1_15_11/
Posted by: David Comdico | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 11:29 AM
I agree that the 'beautiful vista in beautiful light' photographic sub-genre is somewhat intellectually empty but I disagree that it should be seen as pandering only to our need for pleasure. If we stop and consider the effect that the sort of landscape photography that Stephen Best presumably advocates might have on our perception of nature then you can see there is a need for both views of our world.
If the only perception of nature that photography shows us is that it is the plaything of mankind, to contain, mould and even pillage as we see fit, what message does this send out?
We need images of pristine nature not just as reminders that such places still exist but also to remind us of what we stand to lose.
Posted by: Julian | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 01:54 PM
Geoff:
Katherine Thayer's elegant 2004 essay "Embracing Beauty: The Post-Modern Pictorialist Landscape Photograph" addresses just this issue. It can be found in Lenswork #53.
I read Ms Thayer's essay (available for download from lenswork.com for $4) and find little to disagree with. The issue I have is the fly-in, fly-out nature of a lot of this work. Namely that there are pictorial landscapes to be mined for such images. These generally aren't insights from someone with a deep familiarity with the terrain, able to reveal the special and personal (cf. Eliot Porter's Summer Island). The results are generally formulaic and clichéd, with goosed up colour etc and pander to lowest common denominator tastes.
Successful pictorial landscape photography has played a pivotal role in the preservation of such landscapes for which I have absolutely no problem. It's just that as a photographic endeavour I derive less stimulation from it.
Posted by: Stephen Best | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 04:26 PM
The great thing about photography is that it is individualistic. I happen to like pristine landscapes and “ruins” photography but don’t care much for animal photography or standard portraits. I also take a lot of landscape and “ruin” photography and do nonstandard portraits for my clients. The bottom line is we all gravitate toward the “stuff” we like and are easy to criticize the “stuff” we don’t. Maybe we shouldn’t spend less time looking at “stuff” we don’t like and more time offering constructive criticism to the “stuff” we do like. I have a good friend that is a photographer. We often meet in the library to ensure our voices are level and spend an afternoon critiquing each other’s work. We are brutal, honest and offer our opinions. My photography has improved immensely because of these critical review sessions. In the end everyone likes a little landscape, portrait, ruin…. “porn”…. and ohhh yea it’s very individual.... Eric H. Peterson
Posted by: Eric H. Peterson | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 05:21 PM
The wonderful thing about stating a preference is that we all have one and it's entirely incontrovertable. Value judgements are a different issue.
Whereas I don't particularly like overly manicured and idealised landscape photography, it is a well established genre that dates back (if you include painting) several hundred years and remains eternally popular.
Not all of us read only read history books and bios, or watch gritty real life documentaries. Sometimes we also like good adventure fiction and a decent sci-fi movie. Escapism is a thriving business.
Many photographers also work in fashion and advertising, where creating idealised images is the whole point. You may not like it but it puts bread on a lot of tables.
I would not accuse either side of poor taste or lack of discernment. That would rather be setting myself up as a arbiter of "what photography should be" which would be a tall order. I certainly don't think its sole function is political documentary, important though that is.
So to set the balance here is an article about the Dusseldorf School which you may find amusing or rediculous or entirely pertinent. You choose, I decline to comment at this point though I enjoyed the counterpoint.
http://www.professionalphotographer.co.uk/Magazine/The-Business/Has-the-D-sseldorf-School-killed-photography
Steve Jacob
Posted by: Steve Jacob | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 05:30 PM
Wow! As one whose primary photographic interest is photographing urban decay at night, the article about photographing the ruins of Detroit (http://www.guernicamag.com/features/2281/leary_1_15_11/) certainly has given me pause to reflect upon my motivation ... thanks to everybody who linked to it here for bringing it to my attention!
Posted by: Jeffrey Goggin | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 06:25 PM
Current color landscape photography has traveled far from Eliot Porter’s “Intimate Landscapes”, becoming more and more beautiful and less and less intimate, more display and presentational with less depth and knowing; clinical, a neutered aesthetic.
Katherine Thrayer’s 2004 essay in Lenswork #53 was a clumsy defense of the pictorial landscape and still reads that way in 2011, only more so!
Posted by: JP | Wednesday, 19 January 2011 at 09:36 PM
"Porn?" Hmmm.
Perhaps that is a bit heavy handed. A crime in some parts of the planet. Indeed, it's still a capital offense in a few niches of this planet.
How about "erotic?"
Or, perhaps, just "arousing?"
One cannot have porn to make accusations about without also suggesting that there is some kind of prurient arousal lurking around the offending images. The definitions of these words are always circular, with little other inherent content (with the sole exception of Potter Stewart who had the nerve to tell the truth about how it is recognized).
I await the event to discover what evil, what overwhelming hormones, or what uncontrollable urges may soon engulf me. I admit to weakness, to my having ordered the book on the strength of Geoff Wittig's review before seeing all of the puritan comments above. Lord only knows what acts I may feel compelled to attempt with a camera once I experience the book.
Posted by: Dave Ralph | Thursday, 20 January 2011 at 07:59 AM
Dave Ralph:
:-)
Mike
P.S. I think you'll be safe.
Posted by: Mike Johnston | Thursday, 20 January 2011 at 08:26 AM
Last Sunday I went to see a local (i.e. in Düsseldorf) exhibition juxtaposing images by Stephen Shore and Düsseldorf School photogs. Aptly titled "The Red VW Van" after one of Shore's pictures.
http://www.nrw-forum.de/upload/01-Ausstellungen/78-Bulli/gallery/red_bulli_01.jpg
Apparantly the Bechers knew Shore's work and introduced their students to it. So there's supposed to be some influence there. (Yes, and both he and they owned a VW Van.)
I am personally not much of a fan of Düsseldorf school at its most documentary, i.e. the Bechers' original work. It's just so drab and straight up boring. Shore brings some compositional, well, liberties to his subjects that to my mind make all the difference. Wonderful picture of his
http://www.textfield.org/wp-content/uploads/aperture-shore-uncommon-places.jpg
with yet another van. Thsi one is the cover of "Uncommon Places", which Shore's images were mostly taken from - and which Mike will surly add an Amazon link to. Mine is already in the post ...
Posted by: Sheygetz | Thursday, 20 January 2011 at 05:25 PM