La Castiglione & Pierre-Louis Pierson

        We just learned about this woman in my early photography history course, and I absolutely HAD to write about her. Virginia Oldoini, Countess di Castiglione, or as she was better known, La Castiglione, was possibly the original badass. Considered to be the most beautiful woman of her time (1837-1899), La Castiglione was also rumored to have been an Italian or Russian (or both!) spy. She had a two year affair with Napoleon III, which lead to a separation from her arranged marriage to Count Francesco Verasis di Castiglione, and her entrance into the European elite.
        In 1856 La Castiglione began a forty year collaboration with Pierre-Louis Pierson, a French court photographer. She posed not only in her extravagant gowns (which she was well known for), but in various costumes, taking on narrative roles, and later painting on the prints with gouache. She also photographed various uncovered parts of her body, including her feet and legs, which was absolutely unheard of and extremely racy at the time.
        If you are at all familiar with contemporary photography, you will note that she would seem to be the predecessor to a slew of female self-portraitists (though La Castiglione was not controlling the camera herself, she was clearly entirely in control of all other aspects), including Claude Cahun and Cindy Sherman. So cool.

2000 MET exhibit "La Divine Comtesse"
"La Divine Comtesse" (book from the MET show) on googlebooks (lots of pictures!)




images: metmuseum.org

Joan Fontcuberta & Pere Formiguera

        If I constructed a list of past exhibitions that I wish I could have seen first hand, Joan Fontcuberta & Pere Formiguera's Fauna (1987) would possibly be at the very top of the list.
        Fauna, also referred to as Secret Fauna and Dr. Ameisenhaufen's Fauna, originally released as a "serious" piece of journalism and later turned exhibition, was set up as the "long lost" zoological findings of "Dr. Ameisenhaufen", a German who had "mysteriously disappeared" in 1955. The exhibition included a collection of photographs of strange animals (both in the field and in laboratories), field notes (in German and English), sketches, x-rays, tapes of the animal's sounds, dissected and reconstructed stuffed specimen, letters and diaries, and a film with people talking about Ameisenhaufen's life.
        Everything in and about the exhibition was fake. Fontcuberta made the images, and Fomiguera wrote the accompanying text. (Ameisenhaufen and Fomiguera both translate to "anthill", and Ameisenhaufen's assistant Hans von Kubert bears a striking oral similarity to Joan Fontcuberta.) The photographs, which are really just too fantastic to believe in the first place, were created through photocollage as well as by dissembling taxidermy and creating new frankenstein creatures. Fomiguera perfects the scientific jargon to pull things together in a way that is just over the top enough to make the viewer question if it's for real.
        I believe that the project was brilliant. The playfulness and humor is perfect, and it was executed, as I mentioned, to just the right degree. In her September 1988 review of the show for the New York Times, Roberta Smith questions if it's truly "art". It is always risky to try and pin down what "can" and "can't" be labeled art, and she acknowledges this, then continues on as though she is some sort of hero by confronting such a frequently danced around question. Though she does call the exhibition wonderful, and attempts to back up her argument with references to other controversial pieces and stating whether she considers them to be "art" or "something else" I have to say that I think she is pretty off on this one. I'll keep it brief because I could write a whole essay in response to hers, but she says in reference to Fauna as well as works by Mapplethorpe and Hockney, "...all this work seemed to reside in a kind of esthetic no man's land between art and something else, a something else that was in some ways more beautiful, skillful and accessible and, above all, more instantly consumable than actual art" - suggesting that art has to be on some sort of high, inaccessible level in order to be considered art. I think that this is crap, and that Fauna is a perfect example of art that doesn't need to be picked apart and ambled over in order to be appreciated.
        The duo, as well as museums and galleries that displayed the project, also received criticism because of its "deceptive" nature. Though after a moment of serious examination it is clearly a spoof, people felt as though it called the "authority of the photograph into question", and wrote it off (much like Smith) as a "literary hoax" vs. a piece of art. This seems even more silly to me than the last issue, because though in the 80's there was not photoshop and images were not being manipulated as frequently as they are now, photographs have been altered since their invention in the 1800s. It seems absolutely ludicrous to me that people were up in arms about this, when things such as spirit photography have been engineered into reality since the accidental realization of double exposures. If it does not immediately occur to you that you should second guess a scientific study involving photographs of winged monkeys then you should be worried about yourself, not the authenticity of photography. It is this authenticity that photography is so frequently inherently given that Fontcuberta and Formiguera were attempting to playfully call attention to.
        Anyway, I think it is most undoubtedly art (because what good is art if it's a. only accessible to the high and elite, and b. it can't occasionally make you think AND laugh?) and that it's a great piece. There exists a book of the entire "study", but it would seem that it's somewhat hard to come across. Hopefully some day I'll get to see a copy. Until then, try a google search! (If anyone can find a good link with the images feel free to post it, I couldn't find one).

Fontcuberta's (extremely sparse) website
September 1988 NYTimes article
July 1988 NYTimes article, also by Smith





images: various sources, c. Joan Fontcuberta & Pere Formiguera

Hitoshi Nomura

        We looked at Hitoshi Nomura's Moon Score (above) in my contemporary photo history class last year. While visually it is not the sort of thing that would typically grab my attention, conceptually the project is quite cool, and while clearing out the many image files on my laptop a few nights ago, I cam across it once again and was inspired to look up the rest of Nomura's body of work.
        In Moon Score (1975-1979), Nomura photographed the moon on film marked with five lines (like staff paper). The project was supposedly inspired by Nomura spotting the moon moving behind telephone wires. In an early exhibition of the piece, visitors began to hum the "score", and later exhibitions featured a CD with a string quartet or chorus performing the score.
        His early work, which could be likened in concept to the work of earthworks artists such as Andy Goldsworthy, discussed "invisible concepts, such as ‘gravity’ or ‘time'", using for example cardboard towers, which were left to such effects, and documented over time. This brand of thinking moved Nomura to begin looking to the skies, as well as the earth (specifically fossils), and his Moon Score came out of this observation of the patterns of the sun and moon across the sky.
        His work, which takes on photographic and sculptural forms (often incorporating both), both displays the natural beauty of these processes of motion and time, but explores the concepts and their relation to humanity as well.
        In May - July of this past year, Nomura (who is 64, boasting a 40 year career) had a retrospective at the National Art Center, Tokyo. Their write-up on it is quite good, however unfortunately it has no images of the exhibition or his work.

NATC Retrospective page
Review of the retrospective from the Japan Times
Some nice images of Nomura's work (be sure to click "see more artworks by this artist" as well)




images: artcourtgallery.com
source of Moon Score image unknown, but c. Hitoshi Nomura

Dinah Hayt & Matthieu Pabiot

        Another shorter post... I've become really interested in men's fashion spreads lately. This has a lot of influences, ranging from my love of the androgynous representations and fashion to the fact that I myself rarely photograph men. This spread in particular grabbed my attention (I realized later that it is reminiscent of The Compagnia della Fortezza's costumes for "Alice in Wonderland, a Theatrical Essay on the End of a Civilization" which I wrote about in July, I think it may be the ears that are making me think of it).
        "The Play-Boys" was styled by Matthieu Pabiot and shot by Dinah Hayt for the October issue of 160g magazine (which just launched last month). I will add that it doesn't hurt that Mecca (the tattooed model, who is signed to Nathalie Models) has a really beautiful face, but the shoot is just really visually appetizing. The styling is expert, I love the mix of feminine and masculine pieces (the paired leather bra, wool blazer, and suede bicycle shorts are brilliant).
        I'm really intrigued by the handling of men in fashion. I think androgyny is beautiful. The images just got me thinking.

"The Play-Boys"
160g magazine




images: 160grams.com

Angélica Vis

        I happened across this first image by Angélica Vis while blog-wandering, and found my way to her flickr (and subsequently her blog and website). Though Vis' work as a whole is not particularly my personal favorite, she has some really, truly beautiful series mixed in.
        I absolutely fell in love with her photographs with jars (which seems to be a theme she is working out throughout her work), so I had to post a few. There is a good variety in the images, but my favorites are the ones where the jars are being held (in some there is no human presence) because there is something deeply personal and narrative about them this way. She is definitely on to a good thing here.

Vis' flickr
Vis' blog
Vis' website (this actually has the least images and is not in English - Vis is from the Netherlands - so I would actually recommend looking at one of the other two sources)



images: http://www.angelicavis.nl/blog/

Susanna Majuri

        Susanna Majuri's photographic work, which focuses mainly on the concept of water, is absolutely otherworldly. She manages to capture strange moments, freezing time in a way that makes you more than typically conscious of what the camera accomplishes. Majuri's artist statement, overly poetic as it may be, definitely gives an apt description of her work.
        The image that attracted me to Majuri's work is the second one I have posted (Saviour, 2008), at first because it was such a strong image, then because I was curious about how she created it. Many of her images seem to be constructed in this manner (including the third image I've posted; Kaksoset (Gemini), 2009), and to be honest I am still not sure (I'm thinking anything from some talented constructions involving reflection to some serious photo manipulation but again, I really have no idea). Her strength comes from her ability to set up these odd scenarios, with a beautiful eye for color and texture, and to then capture (and freeze) the brief moments when everything comes together just perfectly. Her out of water images are equally strong (Kasvi (The Plant), 2004 being one of my favorite of her photographs overall - it's the last one I've posted), and still all reference water through color, typically in the dress of the model.
        Another thing that intrigued me about her work was the way the model's face is almost never visible; we see tangled hair, the backs of heads or features blurred by the water's surface. Whether this is intended to create a subtle entry point into the photograph, to shift focus from the young female models to the image as a whole, or to stand in for deeper subjects involving identity, it is successful on all counts.

        Majuri has created a series of beautiful and surreal images, that (for me at least) really pull the viewer in and make her want to know the whole story, then start to imagine it. Majuri says, “I want to show that one can find the fantastic from nearby. Fiction blends into our life. The imaginary is in fact actual.” I would say she is successful.

Majuri's Helsinki School page the Helsinki School is a group of photographers and videographers who have a relationship with the University of Art and Design, Helsinki, Finland, which is where Majuri has her MA in Photography.
Adler Gallery this is the gallery that represents her, there is no direct link so you will have to click "artists" at the top of the page, then her name.

both pages have (slightly different varieties of) really nice quality images of her photography.





images: helsinkischool.fi

Unknown

        Short post today! I'm taking a history of photography course that focuses on the early part of photo history, and today we looked at some memento mori (memorial photographs) and spirit photography, which got me thinking and sent me on a winding google search when I got home.
        Along the way (on a really cool website, "A Collection of Collections") I stumbled across this series of six images and just thought they were really interesting and visually striking. (The curators of the website imagine the photos are from the 1920s-30s). The people appear to be partaking in "paranormal" activities, and I'm wondering what the intended use of the images was. They are clearly constructed images, as you can see from the image where the faint figure of a man (most likely presented as a "spirit photograph") is just visible to the left. This would have been done in the darkroom, and with (I imagine) the specific intentionality of proving this medium's abilities to communicate with the dead.
        It's interesting now with the tricks of the darkroom and photoshop exposed to consider that there was a time when photographs were considered objective and "true". Anyway, I just thought I would share these/let them marinate. They were just too odd to ignore.

Full set of images



images: brightbytes.com

Karen O. and the Kids

        Music is not really a language that I speak (vs visual art) so I'll do my best to stumble through this and not get too involved... but I felt that it was worth mentioning the soundtrack to Where the Wild Things Are, both because it is awesome and fits the feel of the book (and I imagine the feel of the film, which comes out the 16th) and because it represents part of a movement back to single artists composing a soundtrack (from what Matt Sullivan refers to in his review for Esquire as the "Zach Braff ... hip-guy playlist", you've seen Garden State- you all know what he's talking about). If you've seen There Will Be Blood, you may or may not have realized that the soundtrack, which not only plays integral part in creating the mood of the film but carries so much weight that it almost seems to take on its own identity, was composed by Radiohead's Johnny Greenwood. Similarly, Karen O. (of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs), along with the assistance of multiple other talented musicians ("the Kids"), has composed the soundtrack for Where the Wild Things Are.
        I believe that this is a really important move, because despite the life-changing effect being in a feature film can have for the dozens of indie-bands that are so frequently comprising the soundtracks of recent films, the film as a whole can really benefit from having a single artistic mind (whether this is one person or a collaboration) behind the music and having music that has been specifically created for the film. As Sullivan points out, anyone with iTunes or Pandora can make a decent mix to create a mood. The change represents a small, possibly even unnoticed difference that I believe makes the film more genuine and effective.
        It was especially important, Where the Wild Things Are being one of the most honored picture books of our culture, that this film be true to the feel of the book. Throwing together a bunch of songs by different artists, fitting as they may have been, would have created an entirely different film.
        Karen pulls everything together beautifully. She brings the (important) aspect of indie artists to the film in an even better way than just throwing in songs, pulling members from well known indie-bands such Deerhunter (with more lesser known groups) as the band for the soundtrack. The children's chorus featured throughout is untrained, which gives off a vibe that matches perfectly with the book/film; feral yet innocent.
        If you are familiar with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs you will immediately hear the way Karen has adapted her sound to fit the earthier feel of the book/film. Screaming vocals have been replaced with humming, clapping and a softer more child-like voice, but the feel and true passion are as present as they are in her music with the YYYs. I have a feeling that if they made a children's album (which would be brilliance) it would sound something like this.

        I truly hope that the film fits the book as well as the soundtrack. I have a feeling it will.

UPDATE: 10/16
saw the movie. totally lived up to my expectations, and the soundtrack is absolutely flawless and plays an important structural role.



images: Where the Wild Things Are Soundtrack booklet

Charles Goss

        I've mentioned my mentor a few times in previous posts, and I feel like following Ray Johnson is a perfect time to bring him to the focus of a post. Charles Goss has been teaching at the Museum School since 1979, and (with fellow Museum School teacher Robert Siegelman) started the artist in residence program Art In Amsterdam in 1996. I took his class "Art as Process" my first semester at the Museum School, in 2007, and immediately asked him to be my mentor. He is brutally honest, and forces me to expand my ways of thinking and push myself out of my comfort zones and open up in a way that I have infrequently been asked to in art school. Goss' teaching, as well as his artwork, inspires expansion of the way art is looked at. If I became frustrated with a piece, he would tell me to rip it in half, or turn it on its side. In class projects would be outlined in simple terms that begged for consideration of exactly what they could be warped to mean, such as "draw every person you know".
        The playfulness and ability for everything to have multiple layers and meanings that I described in Ray Johnson is present in every aspect of Goss, personality, work, and intent. His work ranges from collage and painting to large scale installations. His solo show, A Vertical Life at the Bromfield Gallery (where he is represented) in 2008 displayed all these talents; the show included 63 collages (shown together and deceptively titled 60) - some of which make references to Johnson, displaying instructions on how to draw a bunny- a bulletin board covered in what seemed to be thousands of notes (Charles is never without scraps of paper literally covered in names, times, etc), a ball of socks hovering over a photograph of the edge of Goss' face looking upward -the socks collected from family and friends, attached together so that the socks from the ones closest to him were closest to the inside of the ball- poles with tiny scraps of metal, found in Amsterdam and Boston, sticking off the edges, a ball of digital watches on a pole, all originally set to go off at the same time, slowly growing apart due to slight differences in their mechanics (I happened to be there at one of the times when the watches went off, it was amazingly cool) as well as a few other pieces, including a couple tongue in cheek references to work.
        Goss' work is not only visually intriguing, but all very meaningful and often humorous. He and Johnson would undoubtedly have gotten along. In addition to his artist's statement, Goss shares on his website an "artist's focus", which, in perfectly descriptive of Goss fashion reads (click to enlarge):

Goss' website
Bromfield Gallery
Art in Amsterdam program




images: charlesgoss.com

Ray Johnson

        I don't even know how to begin discussing the genius that was Ray Johnson, and this post would be much better left to someone who knows more about him (a couple people very close to me hold Johnson very close to them), so I'm going to focus on few specific aspects of Johnson and his work, because I do think that it is important that I address him as someone who has inspired me. For the greater picture, I can't express enough how much I believe everyone (artist or not) should watch the documentary How to Draw a Bunny, which focuses on Johnson's life, death, and work.
        *note: the links in the following paragraph are to excerpts from How to Draw a Bunny
        Johnson, who is most well known for his collage work, basically lived his life as performance (some speculate, including his mysterious suicide in 1995). He has been hailed the "most famous unknown artist", and not only made really awesome work, but was a really intriguing and genuinely quirky character. Though he is described as a relative unknown, it is more a reference to the way many people did not realize exactly how prolific he was until his death, at which point thousands of works were found, and also because of the way he has been somewhat of a cult gem in contemporary art history. His work is owned by various museums, including the MoMA and he was friendly with many pop figures at the time, including the much more widely recognized Andy Warhol.

“Mail Art has no history, only a present” - Ray Johnson

        I've been thinking about Johnson a lot lately, because I'm hoping to embark on some sort of mail art project, and Johnson has often be considered the father of mail art (which he began in the 1950s). The above quote greatly characterizes Johnson and his work; a playful pun (present meaning gift) but also a statement that can be taken more seriously and analyzed in the greater contexts of the evolving art world.
        I think what Johnson started with his mail art was so important, a sense of community and collaboration in art, wanting to give without some sort of expectation that something would be returned. It is this sense of community that art can bring about that is so important to me, and the reasons why I would like to start creating and exchanging mail art amongst my many creative friends. Ray Johnson, as much of an oddball as he may have been, totally knew what was up.

Again, cannot emphasize enough how I think everyone should see How to Draw a Bunny, but here are some other Johnson sources as well:
(also note that the work I posted only represents his mail art, definitely try to get a look at the rest of his body of work, even if you just google him)

cool short essay on Johnson and mail art
source for a good number of his mail art images (difficult website to navigate, but click basically any link and an image will come up)
official website of the estate of Ray Johnson (nice bio, images, general info)
Ray Johnson: Correspondences (if you have $70 floating around)




images: various sources, including artpool.hu