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Showing posts with label Adam Bell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adam Bell. Show all posts

Books Interview: Amani Willett Blending archival and authored images, moving backwards and forwards in time, The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer not only seeks to understand a mysterious man who chose to live alone in the woods of New Hampshire, but also explores the ways we seek meaning in the lives of others — to explain our own choices and impulses, and to offer guidance in times of trouble.
The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer 
Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017. 
 
The desire to escape, run away, or disappear has deep roots in American culture. Reinvention is often at the heart of such a desire. Other times it is simply a wish to stand apart and be alone; to leave behind something or someone. It’s a radical gesture often met with a mix of fascination, admiration, and scorn. Amani Willet’s new book The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer examines the mystery surrounding one such man’s choice. Blending archival and authored images, moving backwards and forwards in time, the work not only seeks to understand a mysterious man who chose to live alone in the woods of New Hampshire, but also explores the ways we seek meaning in the lives of others — to explain our own choices and impulses, and to offer guidance in times of trouble. The commitment to live one’s life as a hermit may seem unthinkable to most, but the impulse to find solace away from the demands of life is understandable to all. A dark and affecting book, The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer draws us into the inscrutable secrets of a centuries-old story, ultimately leaving us in the woods to find our own way out. How long we stay remains a personal choice.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.

Adam Bell: The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer invites us into a mystery. Not to dispel that mystery, but can you talk about who Joseph Plummer was, what we know and don’t know about him, and what led you to this project?

Amani Willett: In 1979 my dad purchased land in the area where the hermit lived and he built a small cabin for himself. The land he bought is on a lake called Hermit Lake and it’s just off a road called Hermit Woods Road. Around 2010 I became curious if these names referenced a real person. After doing a little research, I learned that the names did indeed refer to a local legend named Joseph Plummer. From that moment, I was hooked and started learning as much as I could about him. I leaned heavily on the local historical society for information and also spoke with local residents about the stories they had heard throughout their lives.

I discovered Joseph Plummer was born in the late 1700s in a small town in central New Hampshire. He was one of 10 or 11 children from a poor family. Around his 20th birthday, he decided to take the radical step of leaving his family and town to head to the wilderness that surrounded his small village. He spent the rest of his days alone in the woods and was completely self-sufficient. It’s said that he was very wary of any sort of modernity or progress. The sparse information that exists about him comes from first-hand accounts and newspaper articles. In the 1860s he was discovered dead in his cabin. Honestly, it’s hard to know how accurate this information is because there is so little of it and some sources offer conflicting accounts. But that’s also precisely why I find his story so compelling.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.

Adam Bell: You open the book with a quote, which in part reads, “Joseph Plummer is remembered because he wished to be alone.” As social animals, we often find it hard to believe someone wants to be completely alone or remove themselves from society. The irony is that Plummer’s retreat and desire for isolation brought him a modicum of fame during his life. That fascination continues with your book and marks the landscape around where he lived (e.g., Hermit Lake, etc..). How do you see Plummer as fitting in a lineage and mythology of particularly American men that might include figures such as Thoreau, who is mythologized as a hermit, but was actually not one at all, but also more ominous figures like the Unabomber?

Amani Willett: Growing up I was actually very wary of solitude and being alone. And I despised ideas of rugged American Individualism. I felt it was a fallacy. I believed that everyone was a product of their culture, community, and environment and to claim otherwise felt disingenuous. So I rejected the “every man/woman for himself” mentality that is pervasive in certain corners of American culture. That being said, as I've aged I've come to welcome and embrace sporadic solitude as an essential and important part of my own life experience.

With The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer, I wasn’t looking to make the project a generalized commentary about men like Joseph Plummer or Thoreau who choose to leave society. Instead, its genesis was in my curiosity about a specific person who lived in a specific place that related to my father’s and my experiences with the same specific area.

While working on the project and thinking more about the origin of myths and legendary figures, I’ve come to believe a mythological figure's status does not say as much about them as it does about how we as a society project our beliefs and desires onto mythologized figures. Many people who have been mythologized for their outsider status are people we know little about or are people who have chosen a life path that creates a disconnect in our minds. We individually can’t fathom the leap these figures make and our minds desperately need to create a narrative for what must have inspired their decision-making process.

While researching the reasons people have tended to leave contemporary society, I was struck by the fact that in more or less every historical time period people feel they have less time, that progress brings increased stress, that society becomes more crowded and that finding time to be alone becomes increasingly difficult. However, most humans have elected to accept those changes for various reasons, including some undeniably positive tradeoffs. But, there is always a small group who decides to sever ties to mainstream life. And for the rest of us, I think that decision will always be intriguing.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.
The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.

Adam Bell: The book is full of images of erasure, occlusion, and darkness — historical photographs are literally erased, defaced and burned; layered images of wilderness become impenetrable veils; and solitary figures hover in the darkness. In some cases, they point to the continued mystery of Plummer or perhaps your failure to find out, while others seem to protect his privacy or refuse to disclose what is known. Most interestingly, they seem to allow a space to step in and perhaps fulfill our own desire to run away or escape. How do you see these various strategies working?

Amani Willett: In the short statement that appears at the back of the book I wrote, “ . . . his life and the landscape he inhabited exude the mystery of the unknowable.” That belief drove most of the creative decisions I made in the book. I really did try to tell the story of an essentially unknowable man. There simply wasn’t enough information about him to flesh out a narrative packed with facts and information. But that is what I found so interesting about his story and it’s what compelled me to keep coming back to the project. The narrative became about searching for his identity. I loved that idea — and played with that idea — of a man who was in many ways not fully knowable.

Earlier we were discussing mythology and how a lack of information about a person can help fuel their mythological status. Because we never really see Joseph’s face (except as a boy and as an old man) it enables the viewer to experience Joseph as a mythological figure while at the same time allowing for them to create the character in their own imagination. My hope is that everyone’s sense of Joseph is a little different and is partly drawn from their own life experiences. On a practical level that meant playing with images to obscure his identity. I should point out that there are not any known pictures of Joseph. All the historical images in the book are from an archive in the village where Joseph’s cabin was located.

Hermit Woods is a quiet place filled with lots of dense forest — it has a real sense of mystery to it. As I made images in the forest I felt the best way to convey the quiet and sense of solitude was often by employing a dark, sparse palette. Not to get too cosmic, but after spending so much time in Hermit Woods photographing and looking for clues I couldn’t help but feel that Joseph’s presence really could be felt. The images of the ghostly figures in the shadows reference that belief.

It’s funny you mention “respecting his privacy,” because as silly as it sounds I often found myself thinking about that when choosing not to show his face. Keeping his anonymity seemed the least I could do.

One of the two images in the book that shows Joseph’s face is a picture of him as an old man, looking very much the way you’d expect a hermit to look. The image is not as much a picture of Joseph as it is what society expected he had become.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.

Adam Bell: In addition to the altered archival imagery and your own authored images, the book includes a number of facsimile inserts or pages, including pages from John Greenleaf Whittier’s early-20th century book of poems, Snowbound and Other Poems, and a copy of the land title from when your father purchased a small plot of land near where Plummer lived. In both cases you’ve redacted the text, one for obvious reasons of privacy, but in the other to form your own poetry, which becomes a new message or clue about Plummer. Why did you include these texts and how you see them functioning in the book?

Amani Willett: The poems are one more way that I’ve chosen to connect Joseph’s story to my father’s. I actually found the book of poems lying around my dad's cabin and the subject matter of the poems had a similar aesthetic to the story I was constructing. They function much in the same way the photography in the book functions. Both partly reveal and conceal information — and for me, this is the very nature of how photography functions — photographs reveal or conceal light, include or exclude information from the frame, and sequences of images change the meaning of individual images. Just like photographs are sequenced to create new meaning, I was interested in how the same concept could be applied to the poems. So much of the project is about the play between concealing and revealing information so it seemed like a natural progression. I liked that the newly created phrases seemed to reference Joseph Plummer but they could also be about my dad as they came from a book of poems that belonged to him.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.

Adam Bell: You mention your dad’s cabin, which leads to another important part of the book. The final section jumps forward to a more contemporary moment with a young man building a cabin in the woods in the late-70s or early-80s. Is this where your family and father step in?

Amani Willett: That’s right. The first two-thirds of the book mainly focus on Joseph’s story and the last section brings my father more directly into the book. There are a couple images in the first section that include my dad because I wanted to have his story intersect with the hermit’s but his inclusion at that point is subtle.

The image of the young man you reference is indeed my father and, similar to the treatment of the original hermit, it’s the only image of him where you see him straight on. As the narrative progresses — and as he ages and spends more time alone in Hermit Woods — he also begins to fade into the landscape.

There is a crucial moment in the book sequence — just preceding the image of the young man you mention — where Joseph’s status as the hermit is superseded by my father. It's the moment where the baton is passed, so to speak. In the sequence, there is a spread where Joseph’s world and my father’s world share the same space for the first time. On the right-hand page is an archival image of a burning hut. On the left my father is pictured lighting a fire. The next page shows an archival portrait of the hermit’s family up in flames with only Joseph’s figure burning away. The final image in the sequence shows a bear emerging from the shadows of a pitch-black forest at night. For me, the bear becomes an allegory both for Joseph’s transformation into a spiritual force that permeates the area and a symbolic passing of the hermit identity to my father.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer Photographs by Amani Willett.  Overlapse, 2017.

Adam Bell: This work is markedly different from your previous book, Disquiet, yet the two are also similar in many ways. Both are deeply personal and speak about reconciling oneself to a chaotic, and often frightening world. Whereas Disquiet suggested a hesitant engagement, The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer seems to be a dark, escape hatch. How do you see the two relating, if at all?

Amani Willett: You are definitely right about my personal connections to my work . . . . With all my projects, whether I’m photographing my family, Underground Railroad sites, or traces of a hermit’s life in New Hampshire, they all begin with strong personal ties. My goal is to find stories that start with the personal and project outward to create more universal connections. I’m deeply interested in stories that examine the way societal forces shape the lives of individuals. I see both these projects as illuminating the stories of characters operating within the realities of their time.

Regarding the darkness of Joseph Plummer — you are definitely not the first person to mention this aspect of the work — but I found this response surprising. While I was trying to create a mysterious world with more questions than answers, my intention wasn’t necessarily to make a creepy world. I envisioned his world more in the tradition of the sublime. In fact, being deep in the woods of Joseph’s world is one of the most wonderful and peaceful places I can imagine.

With Disquiet, I was just beginning to think about working with images in book form. I was excited by the substantial narrative possibilities that books present: most notably sequencing, mixing media and materials, and design. I spent a lot of time focusing on various strategies for sequencing and I incorporated images from the news and some text as well.

The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer feels like a natural extension of that initial exploration, but one where I’ve been able to explore the same strategies for storytelling in a much more polished way. With this project, I’m still focusing on careful sequencing, but I’ve added historical images and more text to enhance the narrative aspects of the work. Both projects are fragmented narratives, but The Disappearance of Joseph Plummer engages that idea in a more conscious way because the idea of fragmentation is essential to the hermit’s life story. This time I’ve also invested more time and energy in the design to complement the ideas in the book.

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Book Review Museum Bhavan By Dayanita Singh Reviewed by Adam Bell Dayanita Singh's latest project blends her museums with books.
Museum Bhavan By Dayanita SinghSteidl, 2017.
 
Museum Bhavan
Reviewed by Adam Bell

Museum Bhavan.
Photographs by Dayanita Singh. Contributions by Aveen Sen and Gerhard Steidl.
Steidl, Gottingen, Germany, 2017. 298 pp., 241 black-and-white illustrations, 4¾x6½x4¾".

Museums are born of an urge to collect, gather, preserve, and make sense. Rearranged and brought together under various categories and criteria, their objects can tell us stories about others and ourselves, but they are just as often idiosyncratic and personal, reflecting the culture and people involved. Meanings are disclosed just as often as they are obscured. Photography is driven by a similarly compulsive urge. Pointing at things and people, it catalogs and collects the world and its things, but is forever bound to its author. Described as a “book-object,” Dayanita Singh’s 10-volume box set, Museum Bhavan, is really a hybrid catalog-book-display object. Offering an intimate look at Singh’s life and concerns, Museum Bhavan is a private museum made public, reflecting not only Singh’s attempts to make sense of her work and expansive archive, but also offering a poetic meditation on the medium and its rich possibilities to order and construct meaning from the past and the world around us.

Museum Bhavan By Dayanita SinghSteidl, 2017.

Arranged into lyrically titled volumes, like the Ongoing Museum or Museum of Vitrines, Museum Bhavan began and also exists as an exhibition. As a show, the work consists of nine groups of images housed in moveable wooden structures, which are translated here into small, individual accordion books. Accompanying the books is a tenth volume, entitled “Conversation Chambers,” which contains extended interviews with Singh by the publisher Gerhard Steidl and the writer and curator Aveek Sen. The books contain a wide range of work by Singh from 1981 to the present, but are not arranged chronologically and are instead thematically grouped and sequenced. Images of interiors, furniture and machines are grouped and parallel pictures of family and friends. People appear and reappear in various “museums,” often decades apart, conflating time, bringing the past forward into the present. Just as there are temporal threads uniting the work, similar images appear in what might be unrelated “museums,” connecting each individual volume together as a whole.

Museum Bhavan By Dayanita SinghSteidl, 2017.

If museums are designed to preserve and gather the past, both Singh’s choice of subject matter and project feel very apt. In Printing Press Museum, Singh documents antique printing presses in various locations. While there is one image of Gerhard Steidl sitting at his desk in Germany, surrounded by papers and books, the remaining images show antiquated presses, long since taken out of commission, on display or tucked in the corners of rooms. As in the Museum of Vitrines, an obvious reference to the innovative displays Singh uses in her work, the artist pays homage to the rich museological and press traditions of the Indian Subcontinent that she continues in her work. Although Singh is an artist committed to the book form and has jokingly referred to herself as an “offset artist,” she also explores unique methods of exhibiting her work that bridge the past and present. Musty archives, colonial museums, and preserved interiors at first seem anachronistic but Singh calls them forth into the present in both her images and methods of display, alerting us to their existence, importance and meaning.

Museum Bhavan By Dayanita SinghSteidl, 2017.
Museum Bhavan By Dayanita SinghSteidl, 2017.

While books like Little Ladies Museum or Museum of Men gather portraits of family and friends, others exclude people for institutions, archives, and machines. Yet even when there is no one to be seen, a human presence is palpable. In the Museum of Furniture, arrangements of chairs suggest an intimate gathering. Likewise, in Museum of Machines vacant machines stand alert, ready to be put back to work. These more taxonomic books are contrasted with books whose meaning and categorical organization are less clear, like the Ongoing Museum, which gathers disparate photographs including screenshots of an Indian TV melodrama, a concert performance, interiors, portraits and more. Interestingly, some of the books have hidden or alternative names on their back covers. The Museum of Photography is also the Museum of the Departed, and the Ongoing Museum is also the Museum of Chance. These second titles not only offer hints at their meaning, but also suggest the mutability of the boundaries that hold any individual images in a given volume.

Simultaneously a multi-volume set and object to be displayed, the individual books invite intimate scrutiny and are housed in unique cloth-bound boxes. While it’s unlikely most readers will display the books as Singh hopes—reshuffling them on a mantle or shelf in different configurations—the inventive yet restrained design is a delight and is reminiscent of Singh’s equally inventive Send A Letter.

A Hindi word, bhavans are buildings often used for special meetings or gatherings. In Museum Bhavan, Singh has constructed a matryoshka doll-like meeting place for her work in its various iterations. Enclosed in a box, each book floats free, yet is indelibly linked to the others, and is housed under one roof. The images cross over, might easily exist in another volume, and continue thematic threads found throughout the various books. While museums are problematic institutions, they can be simple spaces with a wealth of possibilities and offer the power to rearrange and shape the past and the world around us. All too often that power is delegated to outside authorities, but we can create our own. In Museum Bhavan, Singh has opened her own personal museum for us to peruse, study, and rearrange. — Adam Bell

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ADAM BELL is a photographer and writer. His work has been widely exhibited, and his writing and reviews have appeared in numerous publications including Afterimage, The Art Book Review, The Brooklyn Rail, fototazo, Foam Magazine, Lay Flat, photo-eye and Paper-Journal. His books include The Education of a Photographer and Vision Anew: The Lens and Screen Arts. He is currently on staff and faculty at the MFA Photography, Video and Related Media Department at the School of Visual Art. (www.adambbell.com and blog.adambbell.com)





Book Review Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, and Lee Friedlander Reviewed by Adam Bell Never overly precious, TBW’s Subscription Series has become more polished over the years, but still retains its DIY roots. Large or small, sent all at once or slowly over a year, they always demand attention and are well worth the wait.

Subscription Series #5 
By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, 
Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.
 
Subscription Series #5
Reviewed by Adam Bell

Subscription Series #5.
Photographs by Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.
TBW Books, Oakland, USA, 2016. Unpaged, black-and-white illustrations, 8½x10".

TBW Books began its subscription series in 2006 with a simple premise — 4 books by 4 photographers. The modest 5x7 books were mailed to subscribers over the course of the year and featured unpublished work by emerging and well-known photographers. Despite changes in size and distribution over the years, the premise remained the same and has included the work of Mike Brodie, Dru Donovan, Wolfgang Tillmans, Katy Grannan and more. While the books have never been thematically linked, the latest series offers a look at several revised, reimagined, or formative bodies of work by four well-known artists: Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, and Lee Friedlander. Never overly precious, TBW’s Subscription Series has become more polished over the years, but still retains its DIY roots. Large or small, sent all at once or slowly over a year, they always demand attention and are well worth the wait.

Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.

Book One, Mike Mandel’s Boardwalk Minus Forty, began as a begrudging degree requirement. After submitting an assortment of conceptually minded work for his MFA degree, including projects that would later gain acclaim, Mandel failed. In order to pass and get his degree, Mandel ventured out into the world to make the pictures he felt the committee wanted to see—or “real photography” as he was told. (It’s notable that Robert Heinecken was the only person on the committee who voted in his favor.) After a summer of shooting along the Santa Cruz boardwalk, he returned with photographs of California beach culture in the vein of Winogrand, Papageorge and others. Raw, whimsical, and full of pathos, the work reveals a carnivalesque landscape that often seems to parody the very beach photography he felt compelled to make. As a protean trickster, it’s no surprise Mandel produced a strong body of work. On the one hand, Mandel fulfilled the role of a dutiful, albeit disgruntled, student, but more likely it’s a sly trick of the hat. He gave the committee what they wanted and passed. While it might be easy to see the work as either imitative or performative, Boardwalk Minus Forty is a lot more. If Mandel’s work over the years has playfully explored photography’s varied field, this work demonstrates the abiding presence and power of the observational mode. Even with a tongue defiantly in cheek, it still has a lot to say and show.

Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.
Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.

Book Two, Prince Street Girls, presents an early project by Susan Meiselas from the mid-70s. Bookended by her equally celebrated work on carnival strippers and conflict in Central America, Prince Street Girls follows a pack of young Italian-American girls who lived in Meiselas’ neighborhood in Little Italy. Largely unsupervised, the girls roamed the streets of New York City with glorious abandon. The work follows them from adolescence to young adulthood as they playfully mug for the camera on the street in school uniforms and gradually move to lounging on the beaches of Coney Island and lighting each other’s cigarettes as teens. The touching Black-and-white images are accompanied by notes the girls wrote to Meiselas about their lives and their experience being photographed, which greatly enriches the work. As Meiselas recounts, “The girls were from small Italian-American families and they were almost all related. Sometimes they would reluctantly introduce me to their parents…I was their secret friend.” Shot with the affection of an insider, the work is a poignant look at the intimacy of female friendship.

Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.
Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.

The contributions of Bill Burke and Lee Friedlander instead present work culled and reedited from their archives. Shot in the mid-to-late 70s, Bill Burke’s They Shall Take Up Serpents looks at the lives of several coal miners, who also practice snake handling, a part of the Holiness movement and conducted at Sunday church services. In the images, young boys slowly mature into men, they venture underground, pose with friends and girlfriends, and hunt for rattlesnakes to use in upcoming Sunday services. If they faced danger underground in the mines, their activities above ground left them equally vulnerable. As a short text in the book discloses, the son of a local Reverend died shortly after being bitten at a service. Less autobiographical than some of his works, They Shall Take Up Serpents displays Burke’s uncanny ability to infiltrate otherwise insular communities. Like Meiselas’ work, Serpents reveals a largely secret world with fierce devotion and candor.

Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.
Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.

Unlike almost any photographer working today, Lee Friedlander has proved himself to be singularly adept at omnivorously approaching the panoply of photographic genres and subjects. Portraits and self-portraits, still-lifes, landscapes, street photography, and more are all often shot by Friedlander at once, only to be sorted out later. The fact that Friedlander has done this for over 50 years is nothing short of astonishing. In this book, we see a signature Friedlander image in dozens of iterations—a head, shot from behind, set against a landscape or scene. Formally and conceptually witty, the aptly titled Head, contains many known and unknown images throughout his career. Moving through the book, there is the pleasant mirroring of heads (our own and that in the picture) that occurs, drawing our attention to the act of looking and framing both inside and outside the photograph. What seems like a glib one-liner gains depth and subtlety upon closer and repeat viewings and demonstrates Friedlander’s consistently astute gaze.

Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.
Subscription Series #5 By Mike Mandel, Susan Meiselas, Bill Burke, Lee Friedlander.TBW Books, 2016.

While it seems a lot to buy four books at once, TBW’s Subscription Series is always a bargain. Strong work, treated with honesty and respect, sent out into the world with love. What more could you ask for? — Adam Bell

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ADAM BELL is a photographer and writer. His work has been widely exhibited, and his writing and reviews have appeared in numerous publications including Afterimage, The Art Book Review, The Brooklyn Rail, fototazo, Foam Magazine, Lay Flat, photo-eye and Paper-Journal. His books include The Education of a Photographer and Vision Anew: The Lens and Screen Arts. He is currently on staff and faculty at the MFA Photography, Video and Related Media Department at the School of Visual Art. (www.adambbell.com and blog.adambbell.com)

Book Review Two Blue Buckets Photographs by Peter Fraser. Text by Gerry Badger. Interview by David Campany. Reviewed by Adam Bell A revised and expanded "Director's Cut" of Peter Fraser's first book, with a new introduction by Gerry Badger and an interview by David Campany.
Two Blue Buckets. Photographs by Peter Fraser.
Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017.

http://www.photoeye.com/BookteaseLight/bookteaselight.cfm?catalog=IB829


Two Blue Buckets.

Reviewed by Adam Bell.

Two Blue Buckets.
Photographs by Peter Fraser. Essay by Gerry Badger. Interview by David Campany. Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017. 88 pp., 47 four-color illustrations. 11 x 11 inches.

The world is full of inconsequential stuff we can’t escape. When asked to look at the minutia of everyone’s daily life via Instagram and other social media platforms, we won’t and can’t stop. The refreshed flow is part of the appeal—a meal, a humorous sign, a pile of trash—it moves past only to be displaced, shunted downward in the stack. Yet, examined closely and for long enough, the factness of objects can threaten us in their abstraction, like a word that suddenly loses its shape and meaning. Photographers have long reveled in the medium’s ability to transform the mundane, but few excel at this task. The British photographer Peter Fraser’s work can be located in this storied tradition that stretches from Eggleston to Tillmans and beyond, but nevertheless remains distinct. Whereas some work can be bluntly factual, Fraser’s work is philosophically obtuse and melancholic in its investigative stare. Originally published in 1988, Fraser’s first book, Two Blue Buckets, has recently been reissued by Peperoni Books and gives us an opportunity not only to revisit the beginnings of Fraser’s long career, but also to reassess this prescient and singular book.

Two Blue Buckets. Photographs by Peter Fraser. Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017.

At the time of its release in the late 80s, Two Blue Buckets was a bit of an outlier and perhaps remains so. Color had gained a small foothold within the cloistered spheres of art photography, but Fraser found a path forward that contrasted with his colleagues in Britain (Paul Graham, Martin Parr, and Peter Mitchell) that were also working in color, albeit in a more social documentary mode. It was after an extended visit with Eggleston in the 80s that Fraser embraced the enigmatic clarity of the master’s work as well as his approach to documenting the mundane. Equally important, he accepted color. While Eggleston is an obvious and admitted influence, Fraser quickly found his own position and stylistic approach. The range of this early investigation is on display in this volume.

Two Blue Buckets. Photographs by Peter Fraser. Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017.

Described as a “Director’s Cut,” this new edition of Two Blue Buckets contains three of the four original bodies work—leaving out Towards an Absolute Zero (1986), a project still in progress at the time, but including 12-Day Journey (1984), The Valleys Project (1985) and Everyday Icons (1986)—and adding 19 new images. The texts by Rupert Martin and Maureen O. Paley are also replaced by a new introduction by Gerry Badger and an interview by David Campany. Both editions were designed by Alan Ward, who makes subtle references to the original, like the schematic of the titular buckets, printed on the 1988 edition’s cover, that reappears as a blind stamp on the back of the new edition. Other clues no doubt exist for the attentive observer. The first edition isn’t flawed like so many reprinted and revised books nor is it prohibitively expensive or unavailable, but this expanded and more focused edition gives clarity and depth to the work.

Two Blue Buckets. Photographs by Peter Fraser. Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017.

Rather than presenting a single, cohesive body of work, Two Blue Buckets presents three separate but inter-related projects. In each, Fraser seems to be testing the limits and possibilities of his forthright but philosophically measured approach. Long before the art world embraced object-oriented ontology, Fraser’s images pointed not only to the singular lives of objects and things in the world but also to the necessity and enigmatic possibilities of a scrutinizing gaze. In the book’s most well-known image, part of Everyday Icons, two nearly identical blue buckets shot from above, upon closer examination, reveal themselves to be radically different. Floating on a field of dark linoleum, the buckets seem to be magnetically drawn to each other like charged particles: bound together, yet discrete and defiant. Likewise, in the book’s opening image, a disheveled stack of pale bricks sits in an expansive field of dirt. Individual bricks struggle to break free of the pink plastic tarp and the taut black band that holds them in place. Throughout the book, objects and things are presented impassively, at once familiar, yet also opaque.


Two Blue Buckets. Photographs by Peter Fraser. Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017.

While Fraser holds his cards tight to the chest, clues about the various projects’ meanings peek through. In The Valleys Project, Fraser re-visited his native Wales for a commission and the work feels like a fraught homecoming. In one image, partially deflated balloons lounge on a drab red-brown carpet, and in another, the fogged and lushly illuminated interior of a parked car radiates a ghostly presence. Although full of metaphoric possibilities, the images defy simple reading and force us to return to the act of looking. Yet these are not impersonal or formal images. As Fraser notes in the interview, he is keenly aware of the “delicate interface between being psychologically engaged and intellectually curious about a ‘physical fact.’” Fraser exploits this tension throughout his work. There are also suggestions of the themes that would occupy Fraser for the coming years as his work shifted to examine the physical and metaphysical suggestions of science. From the molecular cluster of the blue buckets to the image of a frozen classroom clock surrounded by celestial notations and artwork, these interests reappear in projects such as Deep Blue (1997) and Material (2002), but also in recent bodies of work such as Mathematics (2017). The original edition of the book even faintly resembles an obscure quantum mechanics textbook with the repeated image of the buckets on the cover and the aforementioned schematics.

Two Blue Buckets. Photographs by Peter Fraser. Peperoni Books, Berlin, 2017.

In a genre long since bowdlerized and defanged, Fraser offers us images that are inscrutably transparent. If we’re always pointing at the stuff around us, there is little room to look. Never a simple act, it can be endlessly fertile terrain in the right hands.  —Adam Bell


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ADAM BELL is a photographer and writer. His work has been widely exhibited, and his writing and reviews have appeared in numerous publications, including Afterimage, The Art Book Review, The Brooklyn Rail, fototazo, Foam Magazine, Lay Flat, photo-eye and Paper-Journal. His books include The Education of a Photographer and Vision Anew: The Lens and Screen Arts. He is currently on staff and faculty at the MFA Photography, Video and Related Media Department at the School of Visual Art. (www.adambbell.com and blog.adambbell.com)




Read more book reviews


Book Review Rift/Fault By Marion Belanger Reviewed by Adam Bell Marion Belanger’s Rift/Fault follows a simple premise—photographs taken along the San Andreas fault in California (Fault), are paired and contrasted with images from the Mid-Atlantic Rift in Iceland (Rift)—but offers an expansive inquiry not only into our complex relationship to the Earth’s surface, but our precarious existence in fraught times.

Rift/Fault By Marion BelangerRadius Books, 2016.
 
Rift/Fault
Reviewed by Adam Bell

Rift/Fault.
Photographs by Marion Belanger. Text by Lucy Lippard.
Radius Books, Santa Fe, USA, 2016. 132 pp., 48 color illustrations, 13x10½".


Book Review Girl Plays with Snake. By Clare Strand Reviewed by Adam Bell Consider the snake—hold it, drape it over your shoulder, or simply run, look away, and close your eyes. Snakes, like many misunderstood and maligned creatures, tend to provoke strong reactions.

Girl Plays with Snake
By Clare StrandMack, 2016.
 
Girl Plays with Snake.
Reviewed by Adam Bell

Girl Plays with Snake.

Photographs by Clare Strand.
Mack, London, England, 2016. 128 pp., color and black-and-white illustrations.

Consider the snake—hold it, drape it over your shoulder, or simply run, look away, and close your eyes. Snakes, like many misunderstood and maligned creatures, tend to provoke strong reactions. I Love Snake. I Hate Snake. The refrain echoes across the front and back of Clare Strand’s new book, Girl Plays With Snake, and highlights the ambivalence and humor central to the work. On the one hand, Strand’s book fits nicely within a growing category of art books that compile, rearrange and recontextualize found photographic imagery. But, like the titular snakes, looks are deceiving. For a project that began with fear and aversion (in this case Strand’s own towards the reptile), it is also playful and humorous, hinting at the obviously culturally loaded imagery of women and snakes but ultimately pointing to the unstable meanings of all imagery. Peppered throughout the book are textual fragments, written by algorithmic poetry bots, that push meaning to absurd places, forcing us to return to the images, look closely, taking them apart, playing with them until they sliver away inert—beautiful, strange and funny.

Girl Plays with Snake By Clare StrandMack, 2016.

It seems appropriate that the book opens with its most ferocious image—a snake, mouth open, poised to strike. I Hate Snake. From there it moves on and the snakes are coiled, draped and docile, at peace with their handlers. I Love Snake. Drawn from tabloid press photos and other vernacular sources, the appropriated photos show happy women holding snakes—smiling they address the camera calmly. Hold the snakes close or gingerly handle them with poles. Despite the tortured and ambivalent refrain of the cover, these women seem to enjoy themselves as they embrace the snakes. Strand dislikes snakes, but was obviously compelled enough to gather all these images, collecting them over years. In interviews, she admits that the work first began when her daughter informed her that she had held a snake in school. Disgusted and intrigued, Strand initially drew on her own archive of imagery, but then began actively seeking out images of women and snakes. As an artist, Strand has long utilized archival or appropriated imagery in smart but playfully humane works and this is no exception.

Girl Plays with Snake By Clare StrandMack, 2016.
Girl Plays with Snake By Clare StrandMack, 2016.

Bound in a faux-snake leather cover, the book fits comfortable in the hands—its size suitably intimate. Combining dramatic full-bleed images with full-size reproductions, the book moves in and out of the images—drawing us close and then pulling away. Love. Hate. In the close-ups, we see the grainy lines of a transmitted press photo, but also get the beautifully mottled skin of the snake and manicured nails. Thick outlines of a retoucher’s paintbrush silhouette the arms and snake, drawing our eyes to the curves and lines of entwined hand, body and serpent. Throughout the book are half-page fragments of disjointed verses that play off the title of the book, Girl Plays With Snake. Fed into poetry bots and tweaked by Strand, the title gave birth to nonsensical verses that defy easy interpretation. Like the snake itself, their unstable meaning wriggles out of our grasp.

Girl Plays with Snake By Clare StrandMack, 2016.
Girl Plays with Snake By Clare StrandMack, 2016.

Whether natural, performed, or coerced, the gestures and poses enacted by the women in Girl Plays With Snake all seem to cater to our cultural assumptions while simultaneously tossing them aside. Repeated over and over, like the phrases on the front and back, they become absurd, lose meaning, and then become somehow profound. From the beginning it is obvious that Strand is the girl playing with the snake, but if we look beyond the girl and the snake, we can see Strand is inviting us to play along. —Adam Bell

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ADAM BELL is a photographer and writer. His work has been widely exhibited, and his writing and reviews have appeared in numerous publications including Afterimage, The Art Book Review, The Brooklyn Rail, fototazo, Foam Magazine, Lay Flat, photo-eye and Paper-Journal. His books include The Education of a Photographer and Vision Anew: The Lens and Screen Arts. He is currently on staff and faculty at the MFA Photography, Video and Related Media Department at the School of Visual Art. (www.adambbell.com and blog.adambbell.com)



Book of the Week Book of the Week: A Pick by Adam Bell Adam Bell selects Fate Shifts Shapes by Nicholas Muellner, Anzhelina Polonskaya, Sasha Rudensky and Clemens von Wedemeyer as Book of the Week.
Fate Shifts ShapesBy Nicholas Muellner, 
Anzhelina Polonskaya, Sasha Rudensky 
and Clemens von Wedemeyer. 
Spaces Corners, 2016 .
Adam Bell selects Fate Shifts Shapes by Nicholas Muellner, Anzhelina Polonskaya, Sasha Rudensky and Clemens von Wedemeyer from Spaces Corners as Book of the Week.

Like many books, Fate Shifts Shapes began as a show. In this case, a 2016 exhibition at the Philadelphia Photo Arts Center curated by Nicholas Muellner that included his own work, as well as that by the poet Anzhelina Polonskaya, and the artists Sasha Rudensky and Clemens von Wedemeyer. Like most ambitious catalogs, the book does not simply transcribe or record the show, but instead reimagines it as a fascinating artist book. Eschewing captions or explanatory essays, the only text is interspersed fragments of poetry by Polonskaya. Weaving together the various artists’ work (shot almost entirely in Russia, Ukraine, and the Russian-occupied Crimea), Fate Shifts Shapes is an evocative and mysterious book about the fragility and resilience of identity and personhood in the face of an authoritarian and conservative regime.

In constant motion, the book makes excellent use of double and single gatefolds — opening and closing, the pages spill out to reveal or fold shut to conceal. Paradoxically, each fold and interlinked image seems to draw us closer, while at the same time leading us further astray or down a hall of mirrors. This clever design element mirrors the theatrical personas visible throughout the book — men and women displaying, hiding or performing their gender or identities in peculiar ways. Young men in black leather outfits hold a giant python. Two young strippers stretch and comb out blonde extensions on a mirrored stage. Yet danger seems to exist around the bend. Although not explicit, the work focuses largely on gay men, women, and migrants — vulnerable populations most places, but especially in socially conservative Russia. Read in this light, the work is about the ways in which identity is shaped by circumstance and pressured to conform. At a time when we’re confronted by our own authoritarian turn, it’s important to remind ourselves how much we still control, be wary of the ways we’re being forced to change, and fight when we can. — Adam Bell

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Fate Shifts ShapesBy Nicholas Muellner, Anzhelina Polonskaya, Sasha Rudensky and Clemens von Wedemeyer. Spaces Corners, 2016 .

Fate Shifts ShapesBy Nicholas Muellner, Anzhelina Polonskaya, Sasha Rudensky and Clemens von Wedemeyer. Spaces Corners, 2016 .

ADAM BELL is a photographer and writer. His work has been widely exhibited, and his writing and reviews have appeared in numerous publications including Afterimage, The Art Book Review, The Brooklyn Rail, fototazo, Foam Magazine, Lay Flat, photo-eye and Paper-Journal. His books include The Education of a Photographer and Vision Anew: The Lens and Screen Arts. He is currently on staff and faculty at the MFA Photography, Video and Related Media Department at the School of Visual Art. (www.adambbell.com and blog.adambbell.com)



Book Review Anthony Hernandez. By Anthony Hernandez Reviewed by Adam Bell As a native of Los Angeles, Anthony Hernandez’s rigorous and tough photographs have examined the social and political landscape of the city for over forty years, teasing apart assumptions and forcing us to look at places we’d rather drive past and ignore.

Anthony Hernandez
By Anthony HernandezD.A.P./SFMOMA, 2016.
 
Anthony Hernandez.
Reviewed by Adam Bell

Anthony Hernandez.
Photographs by Anthony Hernandez. Text by Robert Adams, Erin O'Toole, Ralph Rugoff, Anthony Hernandez, and Lewis Baltz.
D.A.P./SFMOMA, San Francisco, USA, 2016. 280 pp., 245 color illustrations, 9½x11".