Book Review Sons of the Living Photographs by Bryan Schutmaat Reviewed by Brian Arnold "There are some things about this man that I feel that I know, but it’s hard to say since I’m not given much context for the photograph. There is no date, location or name. It shows a white(ish) man seated on a sidewalk, his sandaled feet spilling out into the gutter. He leans back against a shuttered building, plywood and corrugated tin covering the windows..."

Sons of the Living by Bryan Schutmaat.

Sons of the Living
Photographs by Bryan Schutmaat

Trespasser, Austin, TX, 2024. 188 pp., 90 tritone plates on uncoated paper, 11¾x14¾".

        But when I pass through the pearly gate
        Will my gown be gold instead?
        Or just a red clay robe with red clay wings
        And a red clay halo for my head?

                                                    — Gillian Welch

There are some things about this man that I feel that I know, but it’s hard to say since I’m not given much context for the photograph. There is no date, location or name. It shows a white(ish) man seated on a sidewalk, his sandaled feet spilling out into the gutter. He leans back against a shuttered building, plywood and corrugated tin covering the windows. His body sits effortlessly, looking both powerful and relaxed. He’s a hardworking man with rich golden skin, and it feels clear he’s earned his living in the desert landscape of the American Southwest — a deep, dark complexion cultivated under a relentless sun and layers of red sand. Despite his obvious strength, he also looks very awkward. His crown is a pale, Aryan complexion, kept white and clean by the Stetson he wore out in the field. He reminds me of John Grady Cole, the protagonist in the brilliant Cormac McCarthy novel All the Pretty Horses. To be clear, I remember American landscape painter Richard Thompson once telling me what the film adaptation got wrong; Richard was convinced that John Grady Cole, the handsome and romantic hero, would have a tan line from his hat around the circumference of his head on account of him riding the southwest deserts for weeks, always wearing his dirty and sweat-stained hat. It’s a little less picturesque than Matt Damon’s portrayal of the character, but it might also provide an important metaphor for understanding John Grady, crowned with a halo made from the unforgiving desert sands.

I found this photograph in Sons of the Living, the new, much adored book from Bryan Schutmaat and Trespasser Books. Sons of the Living is a richly visualized, harsh and romantic story about the people and landscapes found in the deserts of the American West. I’ve never really been to Texas — Schutmaat’s homeland and muse — but I have spent a lot of time in the backcountry of Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico, so think I have good feel for the people and places he photographed. The deserts of the American Southwest are as gorgeous as they are brutal, full of red hills, sage brush, ancient canyons, powerful oil and mineral industries, and an unlikely assortment of outsiders lost along its highways. Schutmaat continues to work in black-and-white, view camera photography, and does not shy away from portraying his deep love for traditional depictions of the region. Indeed, many of his photographs feel like deliberate references to masterpieces by Timothy O’Sullivan, Laura Gilpin, Georgia O’Keefe, and Robert Adams. I would describe Sons of the Living as a loving, tragic, and poetic rendition of the last American frontier, a harsh and broken landscape full gorgeous views and broken dreams.

Schutmaat builds his narrative by mixing photographs of desert vistas (many focusing on highways and trains — both essential for understanding westward expansion) with portraits of people he met during his travels. The landscape photographs are very classical — a train trestle spanning a river gap, the elegant curve of a highway traversing the rolling hills, and storms brewing along a distant horizon (beautifully reminiscent of some platinum pictures by Laura Gilpin) — and clearly articulate the place. The portraits offer an interesting cross-section of characters — workers, drifters, outlaws, and mystics — all revealed as desperate seekers on a lost highway, depicted with remarkable clarity and empathy. Together these pictures present a haunting perspective on the American frontier in the 21st century, Manifest Destiny when the oil wells are dying and the mines abandoned.

To better understand Schutmaat’s photos, I again want to circle back to Cormac McCarthy. I know it’s bad timing to evoke McCarthy, after the recent articles in Vanity Fair and the New York Times, but like Willa Cather and Robert Adams, I think of him as one of the great artists of the American West. This time I want to reference his character Billy Purnam, the protagonist of The Crossing, the brilliant sequel to All the Pretty Horses. The Crossing is ultimately a novel about living with trauma. Early in the story, Billy befriends a wild wolf by nursing her back to health. McCarthy creates the feeling that this is the most nurturing and loving relationship Billy has known, making it so incredibly devastating when he kills her himself, shooting her in the head after she loses a brutal dog fight. Soul beaten, Billy spends the rest of the novel riding horseback along the Texas-Mexico border, following a string of chance encounters with mystics and drifters who teach the wounded man how to live with trauma. When I page through the pictures in Sons of the Living, I feel a similar narrative to those found in McCarthy’s novels — a story about a poet, loner, and outlaw at home among the wanderers of the desert Southwest.

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Brian Arnold is a photographer, writer, and translator based in Ithaca, NY. He has taught and exhibited his work around the world and published books, including A History of Photography in Indonesia, with Oxford University Press, Cornell University, Amsterdam University, and Afterhours Books. Brian is a two-time MacDowell Fellow and in 2014 received a grant from the Henry Luce Foundation/American Institute for Indonesian Studies.

Left to right: Mitch Dobrowner, Shiprock Storm; Mark Klett, Moonset with Venus;
Edward Bateman, Antelope Island No.766

 

I would have never predicted the trajectory of news headlines that rapidly unfolded in early 2020. Since then, the world has been through a lot, resulting in forced change that has caused many of us to re-evaluate [everything]. I have made some changes, but my love and dedication to the arts have only grown stronger. I have concluded that while art is considered a luxury (you can’t eat it or put it in your gas tank), it has aided many of us in maintaining sanity during dark times. I believe that making art and being in the presence of art is healing. Art permits us to communicate and share experiences that can be difficult to articulate with words. 

As I write this in July of 2022, I feel like it is safe to say that we will not return to the life we knew in 2019; however, many of us have found ways to adapt – and if we were lucky, learned how to identify and lean into the things that make us tick. For me, a significant source of inspiration was finding new ways to share artists and their artwork, resulting in an ongoing series of “online exhibitions” and the video series “photo-eye Conversations."

 

As a result of the continuous digital communication in an otherwise "shut down" world, topics surrounding how the times were impacting art-making surfaced organically and frequently. I became fascinated with the range of experiences and viewpoints and discovered that many artists were at least looking for a silver lining.  

 

Recently, with a blog series in mind, I asked a few represented artists here at photo-eye about their thoughts regarding the following statement -- 

“Some people believe that having a little turmoil can be used as fuel in the artistic process." 

Today, I am excited to present part one of that two-part series – stay tuned for part two next week!

-- Anne Kelly, photo-eye Gallery Director

Mitch Dobrowner

The world is a crazy place right now, and that seems to be causing a lot of turmoil in people's daily lives. But the reality is that we all go through it at some point in our lives, we all just handle it differently. My personal experience is that going through some type of turmoil distracts me creatively - but only at that moment.   

How can I be creative when all I'm thinking about is what I read on social media, or see in the news, or worry about taking care of my family, paying the bills, COVID, kids, maintaining the plumbing in the house, etc. Those thoughts move me from the right brain (IE: the creative, imaginative, daydreaming) to the left brain (IE: the logical, mathematical, problem-solving side). So I just try to see the positivity in it; that turmoil can cause a reset in my thinking/focus. 

As it refers to my art and being creative, it has always made me aware of the good things those 'turmoil demons' distract me from; instead of being enslaved by them, it allows me to continue to grow and find greater self-knowledge of what I'm really about. I once read a quote that “an artist can create not because of their neurosis but despite it." For myself, I create only to the extent that I am alive inside, centered and aware of who I am. So I guess - yea, life's dramas can cause me a reset and thus allow me the chance to grow. But on the other hand, I know some amazing artists, whom I call "tortured souls," that are most creative when things are hardest for them. So I guess people just handle turmoil differently - so to each their own. 

Mitch Dobrowner, Lightening/ Cotton Field, 2021, Archival pigment print, 20x30", Edition of 25, $2500

As part of our new video series, photo-eye Conversations, photo-eye Gallery Director Anne Kelly asked Dobrowner about his practice and most recent work. Ironically, a thunderstorm rolled through the Santa Fe area as the interview was taking place — it could not have been planned better! Check out the blog post that features this conversation HERE or watch this stimulating conversation on Vimeo. 

Portrait of Artist Mitch Dobrowner

Mitch Dobrowner was born in 1956 in Long Island, Bethpage, New York. Worried about Mitch's future and the direction his life will take, his father decided to give him an old Argus rangefinder to fool around with. Little did he realize what an important gesture that would turn out to be for Mitch. After doing some research and seeing the images of Minor White and Ansel Adams, he quickly became addicted to photography. Years later, in early 2005, inspired by his wife, children and friends — he again picked up his camera. Working with professional storm chaser Roger Hill, Dobrowner has traveled throughout Western and Midwestern America to capture nature in its full fury, making extraordinary images of monsoons, tornados, and massive thunderstorms with the highest standard of craftsmanship. Dobrowner’s storm series has attracted considerable media interest (National Geographic, Time, New York Times Magazine, among others). He lives with his family in Studio City, California.

Mark Klett

I think turmoil can be an important fuel for the artistic process, but I also think the artistic process is inspired by many sources and changes for each of us over time. I wouldn’t personally seek out turmoil as a permanent source of inspiration. It may be my instinct for self-preservation, but I’ve always thought that being an artist was a long-term game.

Mark Klett, Car Passing Snake, Eastern Mojave Desert, 1983, Silver Gelatin Print, 16 x 20," $3,500

To see Mark Klett's online exhibition Seeing Time: A Forty Year Retrospective on the photo-eye Gallery website please click HERE.

As part of our video series photo-eye Conversations, photo-eye Gallery Director Anne Kelly and Mark Klett do a virtual walk-through of Seeing Time: A Forty Year Retrospective, his recent online exhibition. They also discuss the artist's prolific career and the making of his book. Watch this stimulating conversation HERE or on Vimeo.

Self-portrait of artist Mark Klett

Mark Klett is a photographer interested in making new works that respond to historic images; creating projects that explore relationships between time, change and perception; and exploring the language of photographic media through technology. His background includes working as a geologist before turning to photography. Klett has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, The Pollock-Krasner Foundation, and the Japan/US Friendship Commission. Klett’s work has been exhibited and published in the United States and internationally for over thirty-five years, and his work is held in over eighty museum collections worldwide. He is the author/co-author of fifteen books. Klett lives in Tempe, AZ, and recently retired from his position as Regents’ Professor of Art at Arizona State University.

Edward Bateman 

In its first months, the pandemic seemed to find a way to target each of our vulnerabilities, my own included. For about 20 years, I have been pondering the words of my literary hero, John Barth:  

“Of what one can’t make sense of, one can make art.” 

I think, for many of us, our art-making is how we understand and process what we experience. But our responses need not always be overt – and are possibly best when they aren’t. There is always a risk of pathos and melodrama when we are in the middle of things. Sometimes, simply making art can serve to show us that we can still act – we can still make a small difference in a world that seems determined to shut us down. 

My kitchen table landscapes (Yosemite: Seeking Sublime) reflected the stay-at-home isolation of covid, but that is not what they were really about. My leaf project (Reversing Photosynthesis) mirrored my mom’s approaching end of life – and was my last show she ever saw, but I wasn’t conscious of that when I started. Thinking back, almost every one of my projects has had some connection to something bigger than me that I couldn’t make sense of at that time. 

At the beginning of the pandemic, I watched a live Zoom of Sophie Calle talking to students. I believe she wanted them to be totally in the moment – since she requested that it not be recorded. She was asked: “What advice would you give to students in this moment of peril.” There was something very grounding in her reply – or at least in how I remember it. “Every moment is a moment of peril. We never know when tragedy will personally strike us.” Now is always the time to practice those things that support our well-being. 

Art is how I get through stuff, and I’ve learned to rely on it. When I have a tough day, I make art– it’s my refuge. On a good day, I make art to celebrate. And on the other days? I make art just to see what will happen next. Ideas come from ideas – and doing. My experience has been that the muses don’t cough up the goods until they know you are serious. 

Edward Bateman, Half Dome in Winter No.3, from At Home in the West, 20x20", Edition of 6, $1200

Anne Kelly joined Edward Bateman in an online view of his fantastic exhibition Yosemite: Seeking Sublime in our video series photo-eye Conversations. They discussed Edward's process in re-creating Yosemite among other things — at one point in the conversation, the artist found himself enveloped in a thick cloud of fog! Check out the previous blog HERE or watch this amazing conversation on Vimeo.

Portrait of the artist Edward Bateman

Edward Bateman is an artist and professor at the University of Utah. His practice often pushes the boundaries of photography with his use of uncommon processes and technologies such as 3D digital modeling. Through constructed and often anachronistic imagery, he crates alleged historical artifacts that examine our belief in the photograph as a reliable witness. 

In 2009, Nazraeli Press released a signed and numbered book of his work titled Mechanical Brides of the Uncanny, which explores 19th- century automatons as a metaphor for the camera, stating: “For the first time in human existence, objects of our own create were looking back at us.”

Bateman and his work have been included in the third edition of Seizing the Light: A Social and Aesthetic History of Photography by Robert Hirsch. His work has been shown internationally in over twenty-eight countries and is included in the collections of The Victoria and Albert Museum, The Museum of Fine Arts Houston, and Getty Research among others. 

Print costs are current up to the time of posting and are subject to change.

For more information, and to purchase prints by Mitch Dobrowner, Mark Klett, or Edward Bateman

please contact Gallery Director Anne Kelly or Gallery Associate Jovi Esquivel

or you may also call us at 505-988-5152 x202

photo-eye Gallery Creativity and Turmoil, Part 1 Anne Kelly Is turmoil fuel for an artistic process?