Tag Archives: Final Major Project PHO705

08.03.20 > The heart of the matter (on spatial and temporal representation in sculpture)

Foreword

In 2019 during my visit to the exhibition ‘Framed Landscapes: European Photography Commissions 1984-2019’ at the Fundación ICO in Madrid, I picked up a copy of the essay ‘Not to occupy a place, but to create space’, by museum director and curator Kasper König (König 2005).

Although this is an essay on sculpture, I could feel it resonating with my thoughts on how to visualize non-physical space – the subject matter I’ve been contemplating throughout my Master’s degree – as well as how I might approach my elusive and constantly evolving Final Major Project.

The Framed Landscapes exhibition was pivotal in revealing that my project could be something more than its photographic representation, its photographic existence. While writing this entry in my Critical Research Journal I’m still not sure what that ‘something more’ is.

One of the projects on display in the exhibition, the photographic commission Schlieren: Spatial Transformation in a Suburban Municipality in Switzerland (Fig.1) by Meret Wandeler and Ulrich Görlich, is a collaborative study of transformation in one specific community over nine years (Wandeler 2019). Indeed, Wandeler’s serial projects are characterized by the fact that the research constitutes the project, and not the photographs per se (Sutherland 2019).

Wendeler 2019

Fig. 1. Meret Wandeler/Ulrich Görlich, 2005, Elmar Mauch (Rephotography) 2007, Christian Schwager (Rephotography) 2009–2017, Example of overviews from ‘Long-Term Photographic Observation of Schlieren 2005-2020’ (Wandeler 2019)

This month, in search of the heart of my project and answers to my questions about space, I took König’s essay from my bookshelf.

 

Not to occupy a place, but to create space

Whilst reading König’s essay ‘Not to occupy a place, but to create space’ – which reflects on the 1977, 1987, 1997 and 2007 (at that time still to be realised) editions of the Münster Sculpture Project –  I found myself wondering about the concept of space as a three-dimensional volume.

Or rather, I started wondering about our apparent preoccupation with space as something which exists in three dimensions.

Indeed, Tate defines sculpture as an art term for “three-dimensional art made by one of four basic processes: carving, modelling, casting, constructing” (Tate n.d.).

Yet ‘space’ doesn’t necessarily have a physical dimension, such as in ‘head-space’ or ‘cyberpsace’, whilst in photography it is represented on a two-dimensional surface.

The question arises, if space doesn’t necessarily have a dimension, what is actually being represented in a photograph?

The Münster Sculpture Project is a city art project including outdoor installations, – mainly, but not exclusively – temporary, spread across the city’s public spaces.

In exploring the art works, König indirectly reveals that each of the artists identifies an elementary, or fundamental, characteristic of the place and then creates a space which represents that.

On Untitled  (Fig.2), Donald Judd’s work for Münster, König reveals that the place offered Judd the opportunity to realise an idea that he’d been considering for a while.

Donald Judd untiltled

Fig. 2 Donald Judd, 1976/77, Untitled, Lake Aa meadows below Mühlenhof open-air museum, Münster, 51°56’59.3″N 7°36’04.8″E. [Outer ring: height 0.9 m, width 0.6 m, diameter 15 m, Inner ring: height rising from 0.9 m to 2.1 m, width 0.6 m, diameter 13.5 m, Concrete sculpture] (Public collection of Stadt Münster) Photo: LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur / Hubertus Huvermann

“It’s quite simple. You have the water level, and you have the lie of the land, and you have two rings, an inner and an outer ring. The inner ring is in line with the water level and the outer ring is in line with the sloping ground.” Kasper König (König 2005: 10)

In her text on Untitled, Sophia Trollmann notes that in 1964, when commenting on approaches to volume, Judd stated “Three dimensions are real space. […] Actual space is intrinsically more powerful and specific than paint on a flat surface” (Kerber 1977, in Trollmann n.d.).

Judd in general sought an unmediated experience of his works, supporting a new American art which rejected the significance of representational space over real space, and – his works being intended as a physical experience on a human scale – “their potential interpretation does not extend beyond the object itself; they are not symbols for something else.”. The viewer creates the relationship with the artwork, and in this case, with the topography itself (Trollmann n.d.).

In Untitled, we see the fundamental element represented by the sculpture is the topography. Through the sculpture the place becomes a space, and with viewer interaction it again becomes a place.

Considering Dan Graham’s Octagon for Munster (Fig. 3),  Ronja Primke calls it “an allusion to the tradition of the so-called pleasure pavilion that since the baroque had become a standard feature of any laid-out park or palace grounds as a venue for social gatherings and festivities” (Primke n.d.). König also reflects on the theoretical implications of the pavilion as a place of public art, extending his considerations to “the park as the oldest democratic form which we have of public architecture” (König 2005: 10).

Dan Graham Octagon for crj

Fig. 3 Dan Graham, 1987, Oktogon für Münster [Octagon for Münster], Temporary installation in the avenue of the southern part of Schlossgarten, Münster, and various locations thereafter during 1988, 1997/98, 2007 and 2017. [Height 240 cm, diameter 365 cm, Octagonal pavilion with two-way mirrored glass, metal and wood] (Collection of LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Münster) Photo from 2017 installation: LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur / Hanna Neandar

Viewed through the lens of Foucault’s theory of control, the park -as a gift of freedom from the authorities – appears to becomes a mask. I wonder if the reflective octagon is not intended, through its reflections, to deconstruct the artificial nature of the park and reveals the park’s true nature? A demasking of place by revealing its fundamental essence of being an artificial construct.

On Michael Asher’s Trailer in Various Locations (Fig. 4), König considers it “a metaphor for mobility, and for understanding the relationships, social relationships, within a city.” (König 2005: 10).

Michael Asher Caravan large res

Fig. 4 Michael Asher, 1977, Trailer in Changing Locations, Temporary installation in various locations over 19 weeks, Münster, and on three occasions thereafter during 1987, 1997 and 2007. [rented white caravan; weekly printed handout with descriptive text, maps, nineteen locations; documentary photographs of the caravan’s placement; and viewer search or happenstance] ((Collection of LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Münster) Photo from 2007 installation: LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur / Roman Mensing

But it is more than a sculpture, it is an experience, and a dialogue on art, ownership, re-conceptualisation, and responsibility. Asher placed the caravan in various sites around the city. The location was changed weekly, starting from the city centre, radiating out to the suburbs and rural places, before returning to the city centre at the end of the exhibition. The installation, maintenance, and photographic documentation of the work was placed on the city’s Skulptur Projekte. The work “consists of a number of essential components. It was made up of the white caravan; the printed handout produced each week with the descriptive text, maps, nineteen locations; the documentary photographs that show the caravan’s placement within the surrounding cityscape and, of course, the viewer’s search for or happenstance stumbling upon it” (Skulptur Projekte Archive n.d.).

The sculpture was not the caravan itself, but the multi-dimensional and multi-faceted dynamic experience of the participants. A dynamic, temporary sculpture spread over a city.

Over a period of four decades the work evolved – much as the long term spatial transformation project of Schlieren (Wandeler 2019; Fig. 1) –  always with the same model of rented caravan and the same locations, although the city backdrop was changing and during some weeks of the later installations the caravan had to be stored temporarily as the sites were no longer accessible.

Asher’s work was progressive in many ways, including the concept of displacing the labour for installation and photographic documentation of the project and its successive editions onto the institution that owned the work.

 

Expanded Ecologies: Perspectives in a Time of Emergency

My thoughts on spatial representation have evolved after reading König’s essay, and after following other avenues of research on the Münster Skulptur Projekte. I wondered how I could explore the concepts of place and space within a recurring theme of my work which is ecocritical analysis.

I revisited the essays, in-situ works, and ephemeral actions of the exhibition ‘Expanded Ecologies: Perspectives in a Time of Emergency’ (Vitali 2009). The exhibition hadn’t been on my radar at that time, but being underpinned by ecocritical considerations I’d acquired the catalogue in 2017 for future reference.

As Anna Kafetsi, Director of the Greek National Museum of Contemporary Art points out in her foreword, it is in new inter-human and subjective relationships of the individual with private and public space, groups and communities, the body and time, that philosopher-psychoanalyst Félix Guattari sought the content of his three ecologies: the environmental, the social, and the mental. Kafetsi reflects that “public space and the environment, in broad terms – in which diverse potential definitions and realities meet and intersect, such as the local, natural, urban and social environment, the global community and cyberspace, nature and culture  – inspire, mobilise, provide creative opportunities …” (Kafetsi 2009).

Daphne Vitali, curator of the exhibition, notes that what is needed is a “new approach, one that considers man as part of the ecosystem, rather than treating man and nature as two concepts (Vitali 2009: 25).

For simplicity, I term this eco-egalitarianism, alternatively in the context of Guattari’s philosophy it can be considered as a perspective which embodies the concept of otherness.

“Ecological Thinking is not simply thinking about ‘the environment’ […]. It is a revised mode of engagement with knowledge, subjectivity, politics, ethics, science, citizenship, and agency that pervades and reconfigures theory and practice”

(Code 2006, in Vitali 2009:25)

Guattari’s ecosophy moves beyond the binary consideration of nature and humankind into a multifoiled consideration of physical and mental interconnectedness, where one embodies the other. To exploit nature or others, becomes self-exploitation.

It’s in this context that I identify with the artists in this exhibition who “have not created works ‘for’ the environment but, rather, works which encourage us to think over the social, political and cultural condition”. The installations do not preach, nor berate the destruction of the environment, rather they ask us “to think about the relationship of the urban and natural environment; the individual, nature and society; nature and technology; architecture and ecology” (Vitali 2009: 28).

Modern Illusion (Fig. 5), a sculptural installation by Giorgos Gyparakis, comments on the illusionistic experience of nature in cities. Nature is introduced in the urban landscape in an attempt to heal the city, but this is treating the ailment, not dealing with its underlying cause.

Gyparakis Large for crj

Fig. 5 Giorgos Gyparakis, 2009, Modern Illusion, Temporary installation in the grounds of the Athens Conservatory from June 12th until October 4th, 2009. [Sculptural installation] Photo from installation / EMST (2009)

I found it interesting that the catalogue contains digital representations of the artworks, which provided a non-dimensional spatial representation (as code) and two-dimensional digital representation on the printed page. The question arises as to which is the original artwork and which is the copy? And whether, or not, one is more ‘valid’ than the other?

I first came across Gyparakis’ work (Fig. 5) in 2017 as a digital representation accompanied by text. I was unaware if there was actually ever an installation, or only the digital concept for one. Now experiencing the installation through photographic representation in 2020, for me the original artwork remains the digital one. I find this an interesting thought within the context of expanded ecologies, which also include the reality of cyberspace and digital representation.

Modern Illusion was first and foremost an idea, a concept, then a code, then a digital spatial representation on screen and print, then an installation, then a photograph. A sculpture in multiple dimensions.

On the fundamental, or elementary characteristic of the place where it is installed, in Modern Illusion we see cohabitation of buildings and nature in the dense urban environment of Athens, but it is an uncomfortable symbiosis. Not an egalitarian one.

 

A Submissive Acknowledgement of Powerlessness

Revisting Expanded Ecologies: Perspectives in a Time of Emergency led me to explore recent work of Andreas Angelidakis, who works at the intersection of art and architecture.

In his exhibition ‘A Submissive Acknowledgement of Powerlessness’ which took place in Athens in the summer of 2019, Angelidakis continued to explore architecture as surfaces and volumes which emerge from the external forces that shape our built environment. Reflecting on the graffiti splattered buildings of downtown Athens, Angelidakis appears to be asking if nowadays the only way for a building to have something meaningful to say is to have a layer of text on it (The Breeder 2019).

“As graffiti covers weak modernist buildings shaped by petty profit margins and corrupt governance, they become reactionary, political, buildings with a voice”

(The Breeder 2019)

In the seating piece from the series ‘Domestic Ruins’, the forms are recognizable as deconstructed elements of modernist and post-modernist buildings (Fig. 6). Clear vinyl reveals the sofa padding and the surface is given a voice with the repeated statement “Ignoring Conceptual Contradictions”.

Andreas Angelidakis Ignoring for CRJ

Fig. 6 Andreas Angelidakis, 2019, Seating piece from the series of ‘Domestic Ruins’, Gallery installation at The Breeder, Athens, from 30 May until August 31, 2019 [Installation, Clear vinyl and foam padding]

Angelidakis explores fundamentals of the generic place that inspired him, the environmental impact of a construction sector based purely on short term profit, and the anti-establishment voices that rise to the surface to remind us of “the futility of our financial, environmental and social practices” (idem).

Ultimately, the question also arises, if by sitting on them in a gallery we also declare our complicity?

 

The heart of the matter

In responding to my question “if space doesn’t necessarily have a dimension, what is actually being represented in a photograph?” I’ve been guided by my consideration of three-dimensional space through the recognizable and tangible volumes of sculpture.

To the three-dimensions of sculpture, I would immediately add a fourth dimension, which is that of time. In particular temporary or moving installations allow the viewer to experience the concept of time. Each viewer also adds another dimension to the works, so they become multi-dimensional.

In each of the sculptures that I explored, the artists have identified a fundamental, or fundamentals, of the place and created a sculptural space in which the viewer can experience those fundamentals.

As such it seems that the artwork is a conceptual space which, with the viewer’s sentient interaction, becomes a new place.

In my use of photography and the recurrent motifs of cityscapes, buildings and infrastructure, it appears that I use spatial representation to create spaces within which the viewer creates and inhabits a new place.

Further, looking at my work through the lens of Guattari’s three ecologies, I realise that my Final Major Project is neither a series of photographs, nor a book, it is the creation of new places through viewer interaction with the images and myself, the photographer.

These new places are constructed from the fundamentals of my project’s theme, as embedded in the photographs.

Sources

EMST (2009) Installation shots from the exhibition Expanded Ecologies: Perspectives in a Time of Emergency. Available at http://fixit-emst.blogspot.com/2009/08/expanded-ecologies.html [Accessed 3 March 2020]

Kafetsi, A (2009) Foreword. In: D. Vitali (ed.) Expanded Ecologies: Perspectives in a Time of Emergency. Athens: National Museum of Contemporary Art. ISBN 978-9-60834-939-0

König, K. (2005) Not to occupy a place, but to create space. Proceedings of the synonymous Conference (22 February 2005). Fundación ICO. ISBN 978-84-934684-3-9

Primke, R. (n.d.) Oktogon für Münster [Octagon for Münster]. Available at https://www.skulptur-projekte-archiv.de/en-us/1987/projects/50/ [Accessed 3 March 2020]

Trollmann, S. (n.d.) Donald Judd, Untitled, 1976/77, 51°56’59.3″N 7°36’04.8″E. Available at https://www.kunsthallemuenster.de/en/collection/donald-judd-ohne-titel-197677-5156593n-736048e/ [Accessed 3 March 2020]

Skulptur Projekte Archive (n.d.) Michael Asher: Trailer in Various Locations. Available at https://www.skulptur-projekte-archiv.de/en-us/2007/projects/91/ [Accessed 3 March 2020]

Sutherland, G. (2019) On the search for new dimensions. Critical Research Journal blog post. Available at https://gordonsutherland.home.blog/2019/09/29/29-09-19-on-the-search-for-new-dimensions/ [Accessed 7 March 2020]

Tate (n.d.) Art Term: Sculpture. Available at https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/s/sculpture [Accessed 7 March 2020]

The Breeder (2019) Andreas Angelidakis: A Submissive Acknowledgement of Powerlessness (May 30, 2019 – August 31, 2019. Available at http://thebreedersystem.com/activity/andreas-angelidakis-a-submissive-acknowledgment-of-powerlessness-at-the-breeder/ [Accessed 3 March 2020]

Wandeler, M. (2019) Schlieren: Spatial Transformation in a Suburban Municipality in Switzerland. In: F. Giertsberg (ed.) Framed Landscapes: European Photography Commissions 1984-2019. Exhibition Catalogue, Museo ICO, 6 June to 8 September 2019. Madrid: Fundación ICO. ISBN 978-84-936568-9-8

Vitali, D. (2009) Expanded Ecologies. In: D. Vitali (ed.) Expanded Ecologies: Perspectives in a Time of Emergency. Athens: National Museum of Contemporary Art. ISBN 978-9-60834-939-0

 

02.02.20 > About Structures and Colors (Candida Höfer at Galeria Helga de Alvear, Madrid, 28.11.2019 – 08.02.2020)

On the photographic archive of Candida Höfer

In considering the physical and emotional response which Höfer’s work incites it appears that the question to be posed is not so much “What has Candida Höfer photographed in terms of interiors of famous and lesser-known archives, theatres and reading rooms?” as “Why has she photographed them?”.

In spite of, or due to, the lack of human presence in her photographs of interiors, Höfer appears to be framing a very human condition.

Knowledge is power. Power to control society. The collection and preservation of knowledge in the archive is the historical preservation of the ideological status-quo. Are Höfer’s images of the interiors of libraries, institutions, and civic buildings a visual archive of that power (Fig.1)?

Candida-Hofer-7 Moscow State Library

Fig. 1 Candida Höfer, 2017. Rossiskaya Gosudarstvennaya Biblioteka Moskwa II. [180 x 212,5cm, Chromogenic print, Edition of 6]

In his critical analysis classifying Walker Evans photographs of Victorian architecture, lecturer on American visual culture Barnaby Haran suggests that Evans’ images are a masked social commentary hidden behind a standardized approach based on archival photography. He places Evans’ work within Foucault’s theories on knowledge and power. Therein the archive is an inherent part of social regulation and Haran posits that Evans used standardization of a way of looking to engage with the concept of social regulation (Haran 2010: 198).

Applying this lens to Candida Höfer’s oeuvre of images of the bastions of culture could reveal insights into her visual texts.

Artistic performance, spatially represented by the theatre, is the counterpoint to that status-quo, challenging it and extending its boundaries even from within the ideology’s own architectural representation (Fig. 2).

candida-höfer-bolshoi-teatr-moskwa-ii

Fig. 2 Candida Höfer, 2017. Bolshoi Teatr Moskwa II. [70.9 x 102.8 in., 180 x 261,3 cm, Chromogenic print, Edition of 6]

Höfer’s images of interiors is all the more interesting because architecture (or at least it’s celebration) is often communicated in media as the external, public façade, although it is equivalently – if not more so – the interior of buildings which embodies culture. Not least because we spend almost all our time inside of buildings and not outside.

Höfer’s early work looked at the visual cultural changes which migrant workers from Turkey were bringing to Germany, from which exploration she arrived at the impact of the built environment on people. Public and semi-public spaces became her photographic subjects, be it waiting rooms at railway stations or opera houses, iconic architecture or the city milieu. Through this work “she also realized that paradoxically the impacts of architecture are most intensely present when people are not in the image” (Galerie Zander n.d.).

Höfer’s detached photographs investigate not only forms and structures of spaces, but minute details, creating personal portraits of these spaces (idem). These personal portraits would appear to respond to and challenge the question why such an “anti-personal aesthetic has become so dominant in international art photography at the turn of the twenty first century” (Soutter 2018: 37).

In fact, these images take time to discover, and “when seen live, rather than in reproduction, the sharpness and detail almost boggle the mind” (idem: 45). I can vouch for this.

The question arises whether or not Höfer’s objectivity is a mask?

The viewer is given a sense of having maximum control over the space, with no sense of distortion. A cool light permeates the images producing an identifiable clinical style and as a body of work they “form an archive of power and privilege” (idem: 45).

Critical analysis of her body of work is offered little insight from the photographer herself.

“There is no explicit, voluntary choice on the spot or in the lab according to the historical context of the space, … I assume it is the space as space that drives such decisions.” Candida Höfer (Kennicott 2011).

Probed on the motifs in her images of interior spaces and her “psychology of social architecture” by art writer Elena Cué, the photographer responds “I am primarily interested in visual relationships within each singular space and the layers of use visible in that space. If over time my aggregated work contributes to broader insights, then that happens so to speak behind my back”. And when asked about the absence of people making them appear even more present, she reveals that this came out of a necessity “to avoid bothering people while I am working” which ultimately became a lesson about presence through absence (Cué 2016).

As with Bernd and Hilla Becher, the interpretation of the work seems to be handed to the reader of the visual text, which is left vulnerable to appropriation. This vulnerability is also a mask, as Höfer’s disembodied approach does not readily permit personal projection into the space (Fig. 3).

Hofer Peabody

Fig. 3 Candida Höfer, 2010. George Peabody Library Baltimore. [71 1/2 × 77 3/8 × 1 3/4 in, 181.6 × 196.5 × 4.4 cm, Chromogenic print] (National Gallery ofArt, Washington, D.C., Collection of Robert E. Meyerhoff and Rheda Becker)

Furthermore, “the images allow us to contemplate privilege, but they also aspire to belong to it, to go on the walls of spaces just as loaded as those portrayed” (Soutter 2018: 46). In such light, are the images then loaded with hypocrisy, or, alternatively, are they challenging the art world which revers them?

In her discourse on ‘Objectivity and seriousness’, whilst discussing Höfer’s work and the question of criticality, Lucy Soutter raises many questions, not least of which “is whether to represent something as objectively as possible is any more likely to produce a critical image than a celebratory one?” and in responding to her own question, reflects that many western readings consider Höfer’s images as “critical allegories about culture” (idem: 47).

Other interpretations consider them more celebratory. In his Washington Post review of a 2011 exhibition of Höfer’s work at the Baltimore Museum of Art, Philip Kennicott considers that “Höfer’s large-format photographs, with their deeply saturated color and extraordinary detail, have become a curious way to brand buildings, give them status, make them “celebrities.” There is something boosterish in using Höfer, whose work resists magazine-style loveliness, for cultural cachet, as if she can do for buildings what Andy Warhol did for celebrities.” (Kennicott 2011).

It could be countered that Warhol, after Abbott, was looking for the new heroes (Sutherland 2019) and anyway, who knows if Höfer is looking for heroes, or villains, or is just simply looking?

Kennicott comments on the disquieting uncanniness of the images which are “as haunting as they are stunning but also very chilly” and asks if through this ambiguity the photographer is “trying to idealize cultural institutions or reveal them as dead space or archaeological remains”? In conclusion, he considers that the images “want to say more, even if their urge to speak leads to ambiguous statements” and that there is a “sharper edge to these images, a hostility almost, that is bracing” (Kennicott 2011).

Patience Graybill in her study of Höfer’s library images (a subset of her ‘portraits of archival spaces’) posits that the photographer uses both “photography’s documentary attributes in historical archives or scientific studies” and “the medium’s more subjective aspects to make fictional, narrative images illustrate abstract or social concepts through their concrete subjects.” (Graybill 2007: 40).  She considers that the recurrent subject of archival spaces inherently aligns Höfer’s work to cultural memory, or the collective negotiation around preservation of cultural inheritance, within the “arsenals of memory” of Western civilization (idem: 43).

Nevertheless, seen individually without knowledge of Höfer’s own photographic archive, Graybill suggests that the images “have only limited ability to postulate on the social significance of modern archival spaces”, partly because Höfer’s emphasis on specificity does not allow an individual image to generically represent all archives. Paradoxically, it is this specificity, or attention to detail, which leaves “viewers to puzzle out Höfer’s ambiguous pictures for their symbolic gestures and subtle implications”. It is, however, within the context of her body of work, that single images reach their potential “to reflect on the practical and symbolic functions of archival spaces in modern societies”. (idem: 45).

In consideration of Höfer’s body of work for the archives of women artists research and exhibitions, Pauline Gueland remarks on the photographer’s style being hallmarked “by a head-on treatment of an uninhabited architectural space” with the vanishing point dead centre of the image and often enhanced by a mirror effect from ceiling to floor. The question arises from any critical overview whether or not an entire oeuvre can be stamped with a singular hallmark, given that a body of work develops over decades, and cultures, artists and technologies change over time. Nevertheless, Gueland clearly identifies that in this “rigorous archival work, each photograph can only really be understood by its belonging to a much larger corpus.” (Gueland 2013).

As Lucy Soutter points out, critics often argue that Höfer’s “spaces do not invite us to project our own bodies into them but rather to contemplate them in the abstract (Soutter 2018: 46). Indeed, not all of the oeuvre takes this stance, as Patience Graybill remarks on the photograph Anna Amalia Bibliothek Weimar II, 2004 wherein Höfer “adopts a reverent sort of low-camera position” (Fig. 4). Here the viewer can enter into the image and feel the “the weight of cultural history” whilst gaining insight into a social inheritance propagated from the eighteenth century (Graybill 2007: 48).

herzogin anna amalia bibliotek Weimar 2 2004

Fig. 4 Candida Höfer, 2004. Herzogin Anna Amalia Library, Weimar II [87 2/5 × 70 9/10 in, 222 × 180 cm, Chromogenic print, Edition of 6]

This image (Fig.4), as well as more intimate ones of personal study spaces within libraries, or archives, can indeed be approached, in contrast to the often cited large volume of works wherein the viewer feels suspended in mid-air, disembodied, or uninvited to enter the image (Fig. 3).

As many critics point out, it is only once considered within this body of work, or in dialogue with other images -such as in the Galeria Helga de Alvear exhibition About Structures and Colors which has just eight photographs – that the individual images become intrinsically and forevermore imbued with their hidden social commentary.

In this way Hofer’s diligently constructed personal archive, put together over decades, reveals itself as a mask for an absentee visual text. I can’t help but wonder if this is not, ultimately, one of the underlying principles of all objective photography? Is it that the objective photograph is a mask for a serious study of a cultural theme, which can only be revealed by considering together images from within the body of work?

On About Structures and Colors

I visited the exhibition early on Saturday 1 February 2020. Most Madrilenians would have been recovering from their Friday evening out or getting ready for shopping in the busy city centre. This left the Galeria Helga de Alvear perfectly empty for me to immerse myself in, what can only be described as, the sumptuous scale and detail of Höfer’s large format prints.

All-focus

Fig. 5 Interior of the Galeria Helga de Alvear (01.02.20) – First room looking through to second room

In About Structures and Colors, between images from Moscow and Paris, Höfer “reflects on the representation of national culture and architectural will through elements such as light, structure and color as well as the idea of beauty itself” (Galeria Helga de Alvear 2019).

The white walls are punctuated by four basic ‘colors’ – red, white, blue and gold/yellow. A nod to national identity and power structures represented in the images of civic spaces of 19th and 20th Century Moscow and Paris.

In the first room (Fig.5), immediate thoughts turn to humanity, to knowledge, performance and creativity. There’s no knowledge without people, no ideas, no reading in these empty libraries and no performance without stage players and audience (Fig. 6).

What does it mean to be human if you are absent? If all other humans are absent?

All-focus

Fig. 6 About Structures and Colors, Exhibition Layout, Entry in my Final Major Project Workbook (01.02.20)

A darker question doesn’t immediately arise, but could it be that this is the room of the old heroes? Or indeed, were they ‘villains’, these heroes of the bourgeois?

A second room only hints at more social concerns, where absent people are accommodated in places that are machines for living in. Two images of Le Corbusier’s Salvation Army Refuge in Paris (1929) are placed vis-à-vis, all the while flanking a view of the Moscow skyline, the only trace of the outdoors in the exhibition.

All-focus

Fig. 7 Interior of the Galeria Helga de Alvear (01.02.20) – Second room

Eventually the Moscow skyline, at first seemingly misplaced, would make sense.

Höfer is allowing her archive to enter into a dialogue that we are invited to listen to. Which in some ways appears ironic, because she never gave them the words to speak.

And in this manner, with the artist curating an exhibition of individual works from her oeuvre, we get to hear unspoken words.

References

Cué, E (2016) Interview with Candida Höfer. Available at https://www.alejandradeargos.com/index.php/en/all-articles/21-guests-with-art/511-interview-with-candida-hoefer [Accessed 2 February 2020]

Galeria Helga de Alvear (2019) Candida Hofer: About Structures and Colors (28.11.2019 – 08.02.2020). Available at http://helgadealvear.com/en/exhibitions/about-structures-and-colors/ [Accessed 2 February 2020]

Galerie Zander (n.d.) Candida Höfer: About the Artist. Available at https://www.galeriezander.com/en/artist/candida_hoefer/information [Accessed 2 February 2020]

Graybill, P (2007) Archiving the Collection: The Aesthetics of Space and Public Cultural Collections in Candida Höfer’s Photography. MoveableType, Vol.3, ‘From Memory to Event’, UCLPress, pp.40-70

Gueland, P (2013) Archive of Women Artists Research and Exhibitions: Candida Höfer. Translated from French by Simon Pleasance. Available at https://awarewomenartists.com/en/artiste/candida-hofer/ [Accessed 2 February 2020]

Haran, B. (2010) Homeless Houses: Classifying Walker Evans’s Photographs of Victorian Architecture. Oxford Art Journal, 33(2) June 2010, pp.189-210

Kennicott, P. (2011) Review: ‘Candida Höfer: Interior Worlds’. Available at https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/review-candida-Höfer-interior-worlds/2011/11/16/gIQAzMDRSN_story.html [Accessed 1 February 2020]

Soutter, L. (2018) Why Art Photography? Second edition. Abingdon: Taylor and Francis. ISBN 978-1-13828263-6

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