Artist Review #3: Robert Mapplethorpe

Instead of giving a comprehensive overview of the following artists I choose, I'm going to instead discuss their works for their aesthetic qualities; for me, the images stand apart from the individuals who create them.

Robert Mapplethorpe's work:

The subjects in these photographs appear as sculptures or statues instead of real people. A lot of the time (particularly in these photographs), it seems to have something to do with the forms Mapplethorpe places with his subjects. In the top image, the model, Thomas, is posed in a window. He stretches his body across its expanse, creating angles between his body and the inorganic space. In this moment, I fail to see "Thomas" as a person, but rather, as a curvilinear form. The bottom image too shares this quality. Though the picture depicts human legs and feet, there is a decidedly stagnant affect to the photograph. This, I think, is due to the harsh triangular lines in the background. Juxtaposed with angled legs and a pointed foot, Mapplethorpe's subject seems just as rigid as the black and white backdrop.

At some point, I would love to have the chance to photograph people in the same way I do architecture; I would pay attention to the positive and negative spaces created with the body and also between the body and its surroundings. It would be a testament to the way of seeing as afforded by architectural photography. Unfortunately, it's hard to find a model for such endeavors.

Link: http://www.mapplethorpe.org/

Artist Review #2: Lucien Herve

Lucien Herve, 1956
1953
1955
1953

Lucien Herve never intended to become a photographer, but managed to pick up the trade from his experience as a journalist. Lacking formal training, Herve approached his subjects in a completely new manner. He focused on details, materials, shadows, and unique perspectives. Herve became Le Corbusier's official photographer in 1949 after photographing Unite d'Habitation in Marseille. The architect adored his work so much that he had Herve go back to his previously erected structures in order to recapture them. According to Le Corbusier, Herve "had the soul of an architect."

While I think it silly to idolize an individual, images are a different story. Lucien Herve's photographs appear to me like verses of a bible. His pieces encompass the entirety of what I seek to capture in my own works. His image of the roof of Ronchamp (the last image) is likely my favorite photographic work, bar none. At first glance, it's an image of a stark, concrete wall meeting a roof. Then, the shadow takes on its own shape and becomes almost a material in itself. In this image, Herve succeeds in transforming shadow into tangible substance. I am also drawn to the detail of the window that appears in the lower left corner. This detail allows the viewer to gain a better understanding of the placement of the camera in relation to himself. At the same time, this element opposes the meeting point of the three materials (roof, wall, and shadow).

Link: http://lucienherve.com/lh_corb.html

Technical Sensibilities

As a photographer, my work begins conceptually, though without definitive goal in mind. Recently, I've taken to architecture. Armed with a fully manual camera filled with b&w Kodak Tri-X 400 speed film, I set off to explore. Generally, I seek out specific locations; abandoned factories, grain elevators, and modern structures are among my favorites.

Once I arrive at a location, I begin by surveying the site. It's a good 5 minutes before I even remember I have a camera in hand. During this initial observation I analyze the space from as many angles as possible, trying to find symmetry and distorted perspectives. When my camera finally makes an appearance, I go to work. I focus the center of my camera to the object that I want to be completely in focus. Then, I move the camera in order to line up the buildings in an aesthetically pleasing, geometric way. Sometimes, this means that my camera undergoes all sorts of topsy-turvy maneuvers.

Once I have the image in the viewfinder exactly as I wish to see it on paper, I set the shutter speed to 125. While most photographers recommend using a shutter speed of 30 or higher, I prefer to use 125. This compensates for any camera shake that might occur once I press the shutter release and ensures a crisp picture. Then, I adjust the aperture in accordance with the ISO. (While a low aperture value will create a shallower depth of field and a high aperture value the opposite, I'm generally content with the results produced by this method, especially since I don't carry a tripod on my adventures.)

After leaving a location, I have to develop my film. I use the methods outlined in the photography room in Sage, using the mixed chemicals according to the temperature of the water and the type of film. Without even taking the chance to view my final images, I set my negatives to dry in the film dryer. After the film comes out, I cut in into strips of 6 and place it in clear negative sleeves. Now, I finally get to see my images on the light table. For me, this is one of the most exciting moments of the whole process, because the ideas I had in my head actually managed to become something stationary and concrete.

While most photographers would then run into the dark room to enlarge the negatives, I scan mine using the Nikon Coolscan in Sage's digital lab. While some would argue that the results of such a process are not as precise, my tests have proven otherwise. Computer manipulation yields the most consistent, precise prints and thus, is most in line with my geometric aesthetic. (Though some would argue in favor of the photographic print as an object itself, I prefer the perfection of my images to a photographic artifact.) To start, I set the scanner's dpi to 300 and the size to something greater than 14x9. Then, the digital files are born. From here, I begin to manipulate the files using Adobe Photoshop, changing the levels, curves, brightness, contrast, midtone contrast, shadows, highlights, sharpness, while fixing any dust spots or other abnormalities. At this point, I make sure my images are as geometrically sound as possible, using precisely placed guides to assist me when using the crop tool. After finalizing my digital files, I print them out, making sure the printer's settings are all correct. Though this process removes the artist's hand from the final print, for me, the photograph is based upon the artist's eye. When I view my works I feel as attached to them as a dark room-using photographer would, except I am unable to point out any flaws in the final products. They are as exact and precise as the measurements in the architectural drawings that they were based upon.

Artist Review #1: Dominique Appia

Dominique Appia
Entre les Trous De La Memoire (trans. Between the Holes in the Memory)
1975

Appia is a Swiss surrealist painter whose most noted work is "Entre les Trous De La Memoire". In English, this translates to me "Between the Holes in the Memory". Born in 1926 in Switzerland, little else has been published concerning the life of this Geneva resident. Reminiscent of Salvador Dali's work, I chose a print of this image to hang over my bed in my dorm room. I appreciate the multiplicity of interpretations created by the surrealist work; all the components can be analyzed individually or as a whole. My favorite part of the image is the picture of the leaning tower of Pisa, which lies within a wooden frame. It hangs crookedly on the left most wall, the building finally appearing without its famous bend. This indicates the imperfections of the world set "right" or trying to reverse the effects of time. This interpretation is validated by the burning of books, which appears in the middle of the work. This is similar to what occurs in Fahrenheit 451, where all the books are destroyed in attempt to remove their society from the teachings of the past. This painting is a culmination of memories in the process of being destroyed or altered. The holes of memory referred to in the title would be the compilation of half-remembered events and ideas.

While his work bears little similarity to my own, I appreciate how he juxtaposes seemingly unrelated elements in order to create some sort of cohesiveness. In addition to the thematic attraction of his work, it is also aesthetically appealing. All of the components of the work are placed in such a manner that the viewer's eye is constantly moving around the page. I try to emulate this tactic in my photography by playing with the focus and perspective.

Link: http://www.appia-d.ch/

A Haphazard Artist Statement

My bare feet cross with one another as they lay sitting on top of the low, square table in the Crosby 0 lounge. My MacBook rests on my lap, obscuring my view of the wooden slab that lines the edge of the table. I begin to notice how the wooden patterns are dissimilar; the grains form random, uncalculated treads along the surface. These grains create segments, or rectilinear divisions of space. I reconsider my angle in relation to the wood grains; I’m seated slightly right of center of the table. I now fail to see my laptop as a machine, as it becomes a culmination of two intersecting rectangles. These rectangles bisect the spaces formed by the wood grains. Eventually, this line of thinking expands to encompass the surrounding couches, windows, and people, creating an endless possibility of spaces.

I haven’t always interpreted my surroundings in such a manner. It’s only since I began photographing architecture that life began to break down into lines, shapes, and forms. Every style of photography I adopt changes the way I view the world, doing so even without a camera. Each field forces me to take notice of particular things. I’ve attempted various styles of photography, from portraiture to photojournalism to architectural, but the only one that seems to capture and hold my attention is the last. I prefer the way I view the world when I photograph architecture, even when I don’t have a camera in my hands.

In order to capture a specific genre of life, I resort to different cameras and various lenses. For architecture, I use a manual 35mm, preferring to have complete control over the focus and aperture. I fill the back with black & white tri-x film, as color would just distract from overall design. The line of thought I referred to before is the byproduct of this process and the purpose of it. By simplifying the mechanisms and materials, I allow the shapes to speak for themselves within my images.

I continue to produce architectural photographs because I feel that they reveal new dimensions to both me as the creator and others as the viewers. As a person easily fascinated by small details, I find the intricacy of simple objects and buildings to be something deserving of attention. Modernist architecture generally serves as my muse, as the industrial-inspired, functional structures appeal to my aesthetic tastes; I prefer designs unencumbered by excessive ornamentation. The purity and simplicity inherent in modernist architecture is overwhelmingly beautiful to me and I seek to convey this within my photographs.

While I hope to create my own architectural forms in the future, for now I am content to understand those of others via photographic observation. I try to visit as many modern buildings as possible, such as the grain elevators in Buffalo, NY. While these structures were never intended to serve as inspiration, their uninhibited, unornamented, vertical forms led to the creation of modern architecture. I hope that by studying and photographing such influential forms I will be better equipped to design architecture as a graduate student.

My definition of art is anything that changes a person emotionally. “Emotion” is a widely subjective term, though I believe art to be dependent upon the individual interacting with it. While I may feel inspired or moved by a surrealist painting, someone viewing the same image in the same context may be unimpressed. For me, the work would be considered art, but for the other individual, it would not. I have no issue with a painting being “art” to one person and “not art” to another. The purpose has been achieved so long as viewing the piece has altered one person, perhaps even just the creator.