Category Archives: museums

Oakland Zoo

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Another zoo. The same questions. Why always exotic animals? Why is there never a section dedicated to local wildlife?

I know it’s nice to push the preservation of all the endangered species. At the same time, we’re paving so much local open space that reminding people what we stand to lose around here would be nice to see as well.

In any case, the Oakland Zoo is nice in that the animal enclosures are big yet encourage the animals to hang out in the open. This makes photography both easy and hard. Easy since you can see the animals. Hard since they’re just chilling and sleeping and not really doing anything and there’s nothing really to frame them in.

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And some photos of friends/family having fun as well.

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Art vs Science

In science centers, we try to combat the notion that science is complex work for a limited, rarified few. So we focus on the idea that “you can be a scientist” and that “science is fun.” Do these democratizing messages prevent us from pursuing interesting ways to present the extraordinary genius of some scientists and the incredible complexity and repetition of scientific work?

In art museums, we try to combat the notion that art is something your child can do, and if you like it, it’s art. So we focus on the idea that “artists are special” and that “art is complicated.” Do these elitist messages prevent us from exploring useful ways to honor the creativity in everyone and the simple pleasures of aesthetics?

Nina Simon

It’s hard for me to emphasize exactly how much I love this blogpost. I’ve long been somewhat frustrated by the way that art and science is presented in the museum context. If anything though, I think the problem is that most museums seem to have one specific viewer in mind when they put together they’re programming.

Science museums are almost always aimed at kids or people who don’t really know science. This isn’t a dumbing-down issue, it’s great to focus on education. Education is a combination of “this is how to understand what’s on display” and “if this is interesting to you, you can do it too.” Which is great for kids and a fantastic way to jump right into the displays. The problem is that that there’s typically no alternative presentation available. It’d be fantastic to be able to go to a science museum and take the tour for people who have college degrees in mechanical engineering. Unfortunately, those sorts of tours aren’t available.

The best experience I’ve had at a science museum in this regard was at the Computer History Museum. My guess is that this was because the Computer History Museum caters to people who already know about the field and can count on non-experts being accompanied by a geek who is more than willing to serve as a tour guide.

As a result, science museums become places you take your kids—and which you avoid unless you want to deal with kids. Which is a shame. The idea that we stop learning science once we graduate from high school doesn’t help anyone.

The one positive though is that most science museums include a heavy local focus. Even if it’s at a gradeschool level, I still try and visit science museums wherever I go so I can learn about local history—whether it’s the geohistory of the region, whatever natural phenomena occur locally, or what kinds of fish populate the area’s waterways.* The science is still basic but I can use it to extract the story (and myths) of the area.

*Natural history museums, science museums, and aquariums are almost always partially-local. Zoos, not so much.

Science museums also typically do a good job at explaining process. Part of the “you can be a scientist” thing is selling the myth of work and dedication by explaining how a scientific breakthrough doesn’t come out of thin air. Instead it comes as a result of hard work and comes out of a lot of surrounding context. When science museums show science, this process is as much of the exhibit as everything else.

Art museums though are almost the exact opposite. Across the board. They’re hard to take kids to since there’s rarely an entry point. They’re not just about “artists are exceptional,” they also tend to require a background in art history just so you don’t feel inadequate.  And many of them don’t even focus on the local.

There’s also a tendency to push, and for museumgoers to succumb to, the idea that “this art is important, therefore you should like it.” Which is complete crap and only furthers the idea that you have to know before you go. In the same way that the museum shouldn’t assume you’re a neophyte, you shouldn’t have to be an expert before visiting either.

Most art museums don’t even provide any background on the artistic process. Sometimes you can get context from the exhibition. But you very rarely see on display information explaining how an object was crafted. SFMOMA occasionally provides ephemera to go with important exhibitions but on a per-piece level, the only museum I’ve seen really explain craft is the Fogg Museum in Harvard* which showed—right next to the objects—xrays revealing the underpainting, displays about the composition of the pigments, and diagrams detailing the different composition of stone sculptures.

*Which I saw over a decade ago so I have no idea if it’s still like this.

I’d love for museums, both art and science, to have multiple tracks for different educational or interest levels among their guests. I’d also love for them to explain how everything is made and what its function or application is. And what context, both historical and in the related field, the object or concept on display comes out of.

I wish all museums could be locally relevant and both educate locals on their history as well as enlighten tourists on what is locally distinct.

And every museum should strive to inspire all visitors to take up and participate in the concepts on display. “Anyone can do this” does not have to be inherently patronizing. If it were, photography wouldn’t be nearly as popular as it is today.

Cancer Alley

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Along with Friedlander, the Cantor Center is showing a selection of Richard Misrach’s Cancer Alley photographs. It’s not the full collection but it’s enough. I only discovered Misrach last year at the Oakland Museum. At that show, looking through the rest of his work, I found that I really liked him.

Misrach’s work isn’t exactly ruin porn but definitely dances around with and touches on some of the what makes ruin porn appealing. What keeps it from being ruin porn is that it’s making a point and capturing more than just the “this is old and looks cool” esthetic. The Cancer Alley photos take this a step further to the point where it’s no longer clear what’s been ruined. There’s a balance between the man-made and the natural—are we ruining nature or is nature reclaiming and adapting to our developments.

The photos are also huge (over 4 feet by 5 feet). Some are prints from 8×10 film, others are prints from digital images. If you look you can see the difference. But it doesn’t really matter much. For almost all the images, I found myself—and noticed the people around me doing the same—constantly leaning in to look at details, stepping back, looking in again at the wall text, stepping back again.

At some point for each image, something would click for everyone and I’d hear that quick intake of breath through pursed lips. Sometimes it would be a detail in the photo while other times it would be the context on the walls which caused the reaction. Whatever the cause was, we would all gesture our museum partner over and point out what we’d noticed and felt. I can’t think of another exhibition which was quite like this in this regard.

Richard Misrach, Cypress Swamp, Alligator Bayou, Prairieville, Louisiana, negative 1998, print 2012

Human mismanagement is turning lush cypress trees into ghostly poles, jeopardizing Louisiana’s bayou ecologies, local economies, and cultures. Requiem for a Bayou. From Petrochemical America, photographs by Richard Misrach, Ecological Atlas by Kate Orff (Aperture 2012).

The wall text in particular makes a huge difference in understanding the images. As do the Petrochemical America infographics. As impressive as the photos are by themselves, it’s impossible to understand how everything—the ecology of the area and our global consumption of petrochemicals—fits together without this information. The infographics are all well done. Clear in making their point and cleanly referencing the photos in the process. They only add to our understanding of things.

The main understanding being exactly how much petrochemicals are entwined in our lives. It’s tempting to look at these photos as being a red state problem,* but we’re all consuming the results and demanding the cheap prices. We all want cheap clothes, fuel, and food. So we all bear some responsibility.

*That Burtynsky is documenting the same thing in China shows that it’s a worldwide thing.

Despite all this, and as tempting as it is to be depressed by this kind of thing, that’s not the sense I got from the show. If anything, there’s a sense of “is this the world we want to keep living in” rather than, “we’re screwed.” The photos are still beautiful even though they contain so much ugliness. They’re just not showing us pristine idealized nature. This is nature after we’ve messed with it. But nature is still surviving and we can change our habits.

AP Art History

Eadweard Muybridge, The Horse in Motion, 1878

Alfred Stieglitz, The Steerage, 1907

Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother, 1936

Diane Arbus, Child with Toy Hand Grenade, 1962

Cindy Sherman, Untitled Film Still #21, 1978

Barbara Kruger, Untitled (“I shop therefore I am”) 1987

This was interesting from both a photography point of view and a general art history point of view.

Art history-wise, the canon is homogenous and full of jargon. A lot of the questions and things you’re supposed to know are, quite frankly, boring and don’t do anything to encourage the appreciation of art. This is very sad.

I’m not enough of a generalist to comment more here, however as someone who likes modern art and photography, I find photography’s role in that canon to be particularly interesting. In every modern art museum I’ve visited, photography is always kept in its own discreet section, partitioned off and away from the rest of the works on display. It’s not relegated to an inferior status, just that it’s kept distinct from the general trends of the time.

I’ve never understood the distinction. Especially when you have artists like Jay Defeo, Ed Ruscha, John Baldessari, Robert Bechtle, and Andy Warhol whose work includes, references, or converses with photography. I enjoy modern art and I particularly like when photography exists in context with what everyone else is doing. In all media. But this rarely happens.

Which means that I was actually somewhat surprised to see any photography get posted. And as I noted, I don’t disagree with any of these photographs being on the “photos you must know” list. All six are hugely important to both to art and to photography.

At the same time, just looking from a photography point of view, there are a lot of things missing. No landscapes. No views of the city. No still-lifes. No patterns or textures. No color studies.

No non-American photographers* and no non-white photographers.**

*Very surprising considering who’s in the canon of photography history.

**Not surprising at all as this fits in with the rest of the Art History Canon.

It is nice to see though that there were twice as many women as men. Unlike the rest of Art History, there are a lot of female photographers who have been accepted by the establishment. At the same time, yeah, yet another grouping which suggests that female photographers only take photos of people.

Cray Photographs

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This weekend, I went to the Cantor Center to see photos by Misrach and Friedlander. I’m still mentally working through Misrach. Friedlander is easier to just start writing about.

The Cray photographs are an intriguing project. How often does a company hire a notable documentary/street art photographer to make what is essentially a vanity publication?* This could have ended up as a forgettable disaster, instead it turned out to be a good fit for both parties.

*I also can’t help but think of it in terms of the trend toward wedding photojournalism. 

It’s interesting. I’ve never been a huge Friedlander fan. I appreciate his humor and approach to things, I just haven’t ever been truly grabbed by his photos. At the same time, I’m reaching the conclusion that, in many ways, he’s probably the perfect photographer to really see and learn from. His approach to places and people is the kind of thing which makes fantastic advice for any new photographer.

The Cray project was a logical extension of Friedlander’s past street photography and his scenes of people hard at work in factories and data-entry centers. It includes a range of subjects shot in Friedlander’s characteristic style: sober images of shop fronts and empty streets, views of the landscape and underbrush surrounding Chippewa Falls and close-up shots of workers.

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Especially his approach to people. I found something incredibly honest about how Friedlander photographs people while they’re working. The photos aren’t posed and many of the subjects are intensely focused on the tasks at hand—to the point where they’re making the kinds of faces that no one likes to see in a photo. Yet despite this, the photos don’t come off as grotesque or mean-spirited.

Treading this fine line is tough. It’s much easier to go either for humor or for something posed (or semi-posed). Instead of going for the easy or the obvious, we have something tough and honest. There’s a strong sense about how much work is involved and how much the employees care about the work at hand. This isn’t dehumanizing assembly line work, each Cray is a massive hand-constructed supercomputer. The collected photos of the workers is much more than just a photo album.

In many of the Cray photographs, he focused on the women performing fine-motor tasks such as installing the complex wiring inside a massive supercomputer. Interestingly, Cray founder Seymour Cray selected these women for their dexterity and talent in weaving and other fabric crafts.

Cantor Center

It’s also notable how many women are in the photos. At first it seems almost like an intentional politically-correct approach to photography. But it quickly becomes apparent that this is not the case. Friedlander’s directness works well here. We’re still not used to women working in high tech yet we’re also super-sensitive to tokenism in propaganda pieces. Friedlander shows us that the women are there because they’re the best people for the job at hand. And it’s obvious that they’re working.

Friedlander_Chippewa

His photos of the surrounding area are also nice to see. In my mind’s eye,* I have a tendency to think of high-tech companies as existing in Lewis Baltz industrial parkscapes. Chippewa is not like this. The small town setting and natural surroundings don’t seem like a high-tech location. And there’s no agenda with these photos either. No sense of “despite this small town look, supercomputers are being built” or “this way of life is going to change as the future comes here.” It just is what it is and serves as a reminder to not find an agenda or a story where none exists.

The photos of Chippewa are also interesting in that they remind us of Silicon Valley’s roots as well. The traffic gods made sure that I understood this. The road I chose to take to Stanford was closed and my detour took me past PARC and Tesla as I wound through the Palo Alto hills.

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Despite our tendency to think of Silicon Valley as industrial parks filled with Arrillaga tilt-ups, there is still a lot of open space here—even in the heart of things.

It’s nice to see these photos in the Bay Area and it’s good to know that they’ll have a permanent home at Stanford. Cray is not a local company* but is still part of our industry. It would be nice if the Cantor Center and the Computer History Museum* can get together and show the photos along with an actual Cray supercomputer.

*Though it did eventually become SGI.

Posthumous

Photography is unique among the arts in that discards are both preserved and often indistinguishable from keepers. The print is the final state, but everything is stored as negatives. This also puts photography in the position where it is possible to have multiple edits of a photographer’s work which end up portraying the photographer in completely different ways.

—My post, Editing and Art

The logical next step will be to take the same approach to an individual photographer’s negatives—for example, re-making The Americans using different frames from those Robert Frank selected.

—My post, Government Documents

I’ve been surprised and pleased by the amount of discussion about the edit of the Winogrand retrospective. I was wholly expecting this to be a blockbuster show which people viewed as important because it’s supposed to be important, not because it’s actually good or interesting. And my chief expectation there was that the unseen photos would be presented as specimens which were good because they were by Winogrand.

I did not expect that a lot of canon photographs would be dropped and that a lot of the unseen images would be from unmarked frames* on contact sheets Winogrand had reviewed during his golden age. I also did not expect that the existing, famous collections would be broken up and not even really referenced in favor of the new edit.

*SFMOMA marked the posthumous prints very clearly. And also called out whether or not Winogrand had marked the frame on the contact sheet.

I was expecting “100+ new photos from a master plus his already-existing masterpieces.” Instead I saw a new, comprehensive edit of the complete body of Winogrand’s black and white street photography.

If you knew the old collections, you would see bits and pieces of them in the new edit. If you were hoping to see the old collections, you would definitely be disappointed with the new edit.

I on the other hand really like the new edit. It’s a single body of work now with various themes—women, couples, private moments, etc.—running through it.

I also love the implication of the new edit. But then I love the idea of re-curating any existing collection. I’ve been a Fred Wilson fanboy for over a decade now.* I really enjoyed Mark Dion’s exhibition at the Oakland Museum two and a half years ago which melded disparate aspects of the museum collections.

*I’m currently reading Fred Wilson: A Critical Reader. I got it for Christmas. I hope to finish by next Christmas. It’s brilliant so far.

And I’ve been very excited by the trend in photography over the past couple years into curation becoming acceptable as a creative act in its own accord. Last year alone brought Looking at the Land, I See Beauty in this Life, and The Last Pictures—three collections which credited the curator instead of the producer of the photos. The year before we had Vivian Maier and Charles Cushman and the discussion about whether or not they were legitimate artists because they hadn’t edited their own work.

What’s uncertain is how much of this is Winogrand and how much is Rubinfien. Are there non-people shots which haven’t been made public? If so it’s easy to see how they’d be held back, since they do not fit the rest of his ouvre. This is a chronic issue when looking at Winogrand’s photos since he did not edit or champion most of his best-known work. Instead it’s been shaped by various curators, first Steichen, then Szarkowski, Papageorge, Friedlander, Harris, Fraenkel, Stack, and now Rubinfein. I don’t think Winogrand was totally unconcerned with editing, but he was so obsessed with shooting that any other task necessarily received less attention. Thus those 6,500 rolls in the closet were deferred indefinitely.

Blake Andrews

The Winogrand show, by actually taking and reworking the work of an acknowledged master, is the “next step” I’ve been waiting for. We’re entering new territory here. Especially with art and its tendency toward specimen-based collections. Who is the artist now? Is Winogrand somehow less of an artist now? Should Rubinfien have been given more creative credit? Does this new edit replace previous works?

What are the ethics of this?

Erin O’Toole’s essay in the Winogrand catalog suggests that, because Winogrand tended to allow other people to edit his work while he was alive, and because he was a self-admitted non-editor, that this edit is okay. This is a decent point with regard to Winogrand.* He seems to have cared most about shooting and seemed perfectly happy leaving the rest to everyone else.

*Admittedly, the exact same logic could be used to put Ansel Adams photos on food packaging.

D: When you looked at those contact sheets, you noticed that something was going on. I’ve often wondered how a photographer who takes tens of thousands of photographs—and by now it may even be hundreds of thousands of photographs—keeps track of the material. How do you know what you have, and how do you find it?

W: Badly. That’s all I can say. There’ve been times it’s been just impossible to find a negative or whatever. But I’m basically just a one man operation, and so things get messed up. I don’t have a filing system that’s worth very much.

D: But don’t you think that’s important to your work?

W: I’m sure it is, but I can’t do anything about it. It’s hopeless. I’ve given up. You just go through a certain kind of drudgery every time you have to look for something. I’ve got certain things grouped by now, but there’s a drudgery in finding them. There’s always stuff missing.

Visions and Images:
American Photographers on Photography,
Interviews with photographers
by Barbara Diamonstein

But if he had a track record of wanting tight control over everything? What then? How ethical would such a show be?

We’ve all created something at some time in our lives. We all understand the sense of ownership we have over our creations and the gut-level resistance we have to someone else critiquing, commenting, or changing it. Especially if the change isn’t something which we’ve solicited (let alone agreed with).

Does something change after a person dies? Where are the lines once there’s no one to ask permission?

It’s disappointing to me that so few people rose to the defense of the artists’ intentions, and their spiritual and ethical “ownership” of their work. If someone peed all over your work, I’d come to the defense of you.

Mike Johnston, The Online Photographer

If you really admire an artist, a writer, a photographer, part of that admiration recognizes the importance of self-determination with regards to their own work. How many creative people had their legacy distorted by the posthumous publication of work they considered substandard, incomplete or not indicative of their style?

Lewis Bush

I totally understand the point of view that we need to protect and maintain some level of spiritual ownership by the original creators. I even sympathize with it. It feels correct. We should be allowed to set our legacies, right?

But I also think this point of view is crazy and ultimately limiting to everyone. Our collective creative output has to enter the public domain at some point so it can be reevaluated, remixed, and repurposed so that it can be relevant to another generation. Otherwise we end up with the the stale presentation of increasingly-irrelevant “museum pieces” which I was worried about seeing.

If art can’t be allowed to evolve as we evolve, it ends up dieing of neglect in a museum when no one can no longer explain the relevance.

None of the books Winogrand published while alive are still in print, and some like “Women are Beautiful” have prices that ensure they will only be seen by collectors. Even the best Winogrand books, published after his death, are expensive. (The best is “1964,” lowest price on Amazon is $260.)

The ironic aspect of this exhibit is that previously the Garry Winogrand rumor was the collection of 6,600 rolls of film very few had seen. After the publication of Rubinfien’s edit of this unseen work, the Garry Winogrand rumor is now the books he published during his lifetime. Rubinfien’s book, filled with many photographs Winogrand never saw himself, will be one of the best Winogrand books and certainly the most widely seen.

Wayne Bremser

At the same time, we have to keep track of the different edits. Earlier edits should provide context to the subsequent ones. The last thing I want to see is the “director’s cut” phenomenon where each new edit is only intended to capture additional marketshare and pretends to be the “definitive” edit. They’re not in competition.

This is one area which I feel that the Winogrand exhibition missed a bit. It doesn’t really acknowledge the previous edits and kind of treads into “definitive” territory as a result.

Note

I don’t want to give the impression that the question of re-editing is a photography-only thing. Remixing happens all the time in music world. I’ve already mentioned movies. And in literature, it’s often impossible to discern the relationship between author and editor.

If anything, the way that other media already acknowledge how multiple edits can co-exist together should point the way for the same sort of thing to happen in photography.

Lebbeus Woods

Lebbeus Woods, Photon Kite, from the series Centricity, 1988; graphite on paper; Collection SFMOMA, purchase through a gift of the Members of the Architecture + Design Forum, SFMOMA Architecture and Design Accessions Committee, and the architecture and design community in honor of Aaron Betsky, Curator of Architecture, Design and Digital Projects, 1995-2001; © Estate of Lebbeus Woods

Holy crap. Garry Winogrand may be the marquee attraction at SFMOMA right now, but the Lebbeus Woods show gives him a run for his money. Wow. If Winogrand is a look through our past, Woods is crazy futuristic. Emphasis on the crazy. In the best way.

Woods’s conception of architecture embraces the chaos of the world rather that fighting against it. As a result, his structural concepts appear to be alive and have organic history just like any other organism. War-damaged buildings have scar tissue. San Francisco is reenvisioned with buildings which also have tectonic plates.

This is all wildly impractical and hugely evocative. A Sci-Fi world I would love to see yet also one which scares the bejeezus out of me. Despite its appeal and beauty, I would try and avoid us becoming that world at all costs.*

*Recommended reading, this review from Katya Tylevich which does a much better job at explaining things.

Woods’s drawings are also just fantastic tours de force. They inspire me to pick up a pen and draw while also telling me to not even try, it’s impossible. Whether it’s his pages full of patterns and textures or his simultaneously precise yet sketchy crosshatched renderings, I can’t even come up with the words to adequately describe them.

Seriously. If you’re in the Bay Area, go see this show. It’ll blow your mind.

Winogrand

WinograndSF_Chimps

I was looking forward to SFMoMA’s Garry Winogrand show for a long time. While I’ve been familiar with Winogrand’s more iconic images and the backstory/legend of his shooting and “editing” styles, I hadn’t seen much in-depth work of his nor had I had an opportunity to really examine prints and frames.

I’m quite pleased to report that despite my high expectations, the show doesn’t disappoint. At all. This isn’t a “greatest hits”* or a “collect them all”** type of retrospective. Instead, this is one of the rare gems which ends up being as much about the artist as it is about the art.*** It’s all over the place—in a good way—as it winds its way through decades of work and decades of working through things via art.

*One which only shows the extreme highlights and none of context.

**One which attempts to show everything in a “this is important because someone important made it” kind of way.

***Closest comparison I can come up with is SFMoMA’s Diane Arbus show which did a similar job at presenting both the art and the artist.

Winogrand, in a way which perhaps is more familiar to us now, interacted with the world via his camera. That shooting appears to have been more interesting than editing means there was something important in just seeing the world through his viewfinder. Looking at the photos on display, I get a sense for him working out personal issues (girls, couples, etc.) as well as how his mindset reflected (or bucked) the general national mood.

It’s this second aspect which I found to be especially interesting. There is something about Winogrand’s photos which, while not being overtly political, has its finger on the pulse of things. I can’t help but look at the photos as historical documents which reveal the prevailing mood of the country.

WinograndSF_JFK

His early work in particular shows an extremely subtle, nuanced look at the pre-civil-rights-movement black and white experience. There is a consistent quiet power* in how he documented the different stations which blacks and whites held in New York. He’s able to intuitively capture how people interacted, or didn’t interact, to the point where I’m not sure if he’s even seeing the race thing and just treating all humans as equals.

*And I thought Goldblatt was quiet and subtle.

So much is there to see and he’s unflinching in capturing it. I love his photo of the black men crossing the street (taken from inside the car) because of the number of layers of observation it shows. He saw a human scene. He also records that he’s in his car when he sees it. And he suggests that this is not a neighborhood he would be comfortable walking in. But he still takes the photo and comes up with something that isn’t just about the people he took the photo of.

His photo of JFK in 1960 requires you to notice that Kennedy is surrounded by blacks. I don’t get the impression that this was a photo-op for JFK yet at the same time, this image says a lot about what JFK meant in 1960 and hints at a lot of what was to come in the next four years.

And it explains why so many people, including Winogrand, became so disenchanted with politics over those four years (and after).

That Winogrand’s “best” work comes from the 1960s and early 1970s is not a surprise either. Those years were interesting times to be on the street.* Especially in the cities. Lots of optimism and activism. Lots of generational changes. But as the boomers aged and big victories in civil rights were won,** America’s priorities changed again and Winogrand’s work reflects that.

*What other year besides 1968 could have a museum exhibition dedicated just to things that happened in that year? And that show even felt a little thin.

**Not claiming that the work is finished, just that the biggest victories were won.

Since he stays in the city (mostly) it’s no surprise that his work gets bleaker and bleaker. The city in the 60s was the center of life and industry. In the late 1970s and early 1980s? Everyone who could have left did so and cities were now bleak, dangerous, distrusting places. Winogrand didn’t “lose his way” here, it’s just that his way went through exceedingly unpleasant territory.

If Winogrand were just interesting from a historical perspective, I would have enjoyed the show.* But there’s much much more to it. As a photography nut, what he does with the camera is also extremely exciting.

*At least half of the people in the gallery around me were pointing out and discussing cars, clothing, history, signs, etc. This show is very interesting from a non-art, non-photography point of view.

Garry Winogrand. La Guardia Airport, New York, 1968.

In particular, Winogrand’s timing is amazing. Especially with facial expressions. I don’t know how he does it. I wish I knew how he does it. They’re often not nice expressions. But they feel true and honest and seem like the kind of thing which, while the subject of the photograph will probably hate, people who know the subject will love.

The expressions he gets in his subjects are the kind of expressions I try to find when I shoot my family.* I don’t want posed smiles or fake expressions. I want the honest moments which I see all the time in my mind but can rarely capture on film.** I want the expressions and gestures which remind me of how someone lives, not just how they pose for photos.

*Not surprisingly, my wife loves it when I point the camera at her.

**Is the digital equivalent to “on film,” “in JPG”? 

Winogrand’s photos for me mark the dividing line between street portraits and street photography.* He’s not creeping on people and hiding the fact that he’s taking photos. But he’s not posing or explicitly working with anyone either. This is an interesting dance which has me wondering whether other people see Winogrand’s images the same way.

*This is Kip Praslowicz’s category 4 of street photography typologies.

I’ve been explicitly wondering for a while about the Women are Beautiful images. I’ve always liked a lot of them. I particularly love the image of the woman in the La Guardia lounge. I also know that, while I like them as art, they also embody the male gaze and I like them for this reason too. I rationalize this by thinking that what makes the women beautiful is that Winogrand’s caught a lot of inner beauty, grace, and power and isn’t just focusing on “pretty.” At the same time, yeah. I know that what I like is probably what caught Winogrand’s eye too.

Which makes me wonder whether women find these images to be creepy. My wife says no. For her, there was something about the shooting distance (not too close to be aggressive and not too far to be stalkery) as well as the fact that, despite capturing “private” moments, the subjects are in control (more mature women rather than teenagers) of how they present themselves publicly. But I’m still curious about other opinions here.

Garry Winogrand. Los Angeles, 1969.

I also love how he situates his work on the streets. Literally. So many of his images include street signs. It’s not enough that he’s capturing all kinds of activity on the streets, he’s also recording where he took them. Yes, he was incredibly poor about cataloging his contact sheets. It seems instead like he’s taking notes on the film itself.

The street signs are especially fantastic when they give iconic locations. Hollywood and Vine.* 42nd Street. Etc. These are places which exist in myth. Yet they’re also real. The images are great. The signs are the icing on the cake.

*I really liked this photo. So many things going on in the frame. Shadows and light. The women. The wheelchair. The full bus bench. The Hollywood Walk of Fame. And then that sign saying Vine St. Perfection.

Garry Winogrand. Austin, 1974.

Which brings us to the Winogrand cant. I used to think that it involved using something else as the vertical in the frame. And while there’s some of that, what I saw suggested that he actually used the tilt in a way similar to how I often shoot tilted. It’s not a cheap trick to make things seem more dynamic. Instead, I think that he’s focusing on his subject while rotating his  camera slightly to zoom just enough to place get everything else he wants in the frame.

The last thing he’s paying attention to is the horizon. Instead it’s all about what makes it ins, and what gets cropped out, of his frame.

This is a great reminder to all internet photographers out there. Stop reading internet rules and just shoot shoot shoot, only caring about what’s in the frame.

Beyond the history aspects and photography aspects of this show, I’m also extremely intrigued by the concept of posthumous editing of an artist’s work. But that’s a blogpost for another day. I’m trying to keep this one on topic for what I saw in the exhibition since there’s a lot to see and appreciate.

The show is well worth seeing. And probably worth seeing multiple times. You’re damn right I bought the catalog.

SFMoMA testshots (Tripod Holes 4)

SFMOMA-1Kodak Pony 135 Model C
sfmomaKodak Duaflex II
01.02.2012-1Kodak Six-20 Brownie Junior

While I don’t do this with my main shooters, it seems that any camera I’m just messing around with eventually makes its way to San Francisco so I can shoot this view. It’s a nice view which will be looking a bit different in future years as the SFMOMA expansion will be going up behind this building.

A suggestion for next year

Another idea I had for my love letter to a piece of art. I refuse to spend this much effort on a web contest. But the idea is too good not to put out there in case someone wants to do it correctly.

The work of art in question. And a fantastic blogpost about how to conserve it. I wish I’d have known about that blogpost when I wrote my post on Archival Life as it’s highly relevant to the discussion and further points out that the idea that something should be kept from aging* is not the best way to think about art.

*An idea which is all too prevalent in photography circles.

And yes, technically, it should be 325 found Valentines or drawn hearts rather than ~100.