Photography Now ’07 presents the works
of nine widely disparate photographers that, when assembled in one room,
makes an emotionally cohesive whole. Almost never do we look at
photographs one at a time. In jurying an exhibition, rather than judging a
competition, the principal concern must be to create an interesting,
harmonious selection that becomes “one thing”. It goes without saying
that the work must be good. By that I mean original, well crafted, and
intelligent. Anything else would be jarring, distracting, boring or an
insult to the viewer. However being good is not enough when what is being
chosen is an exhibition rather than say, the Champion Pig at the County
Fair.
Gideon Barnett’s
bleak and abstracted color landscapes emphasize the sculptural qualities
of heaps of gravel, against pale skies. It is perhaps the kind of world
that might be inhabited by the “Anonymous Lives” depicted (and
created) by Paul Giguere. While
the blurred and hazy shadows of this series contrast stylistically with
the precise particularities of Barnett’s formal topographies of nothing,
they are linked by mood and evocative overtones. In a similar way Andrew Liccardo’s panoramic
Allison Hunter’s
dramatic tableaux of animals are powerful in their own right, but in the
context of the other work in the show suggest ambiguous allegory. The
sheep in Hunter’s piece may serve as stand-ins for the human condition
as they have in literature since the Bible. Here, spectacularly lit and
without environment, they lend a poetic resonance to the smaller and
quieter works of the show. Forest
McMullin’s abstract and luminous images of road kill are
particularly haunting in context with Hunter’s aspirational perfection,
reminiscent, perhaps of William Butler Yeats’ “terrible beauty.”
Figuratively situated between Hunter and McMullin is Chad
Hunt’s arresting and revealing images of young American soldiers in
Afghanistan, serve as a center for the entire exhibition that, like the
war they depict, are impossible to ignore.
As with
Giguere’s very different images, it is emotional tone that links
Hunt’s realistic work to Kristopher Stallworth’s exquisite square format night landscapes.
Beautiful, troubling, dark and mysterious, they are the stuff of dreams or
nightmares. Similarly Tamara
Lischka’s emblematic images of fetuses may offer us either hope or
despair in their perfection and fragility. Frank
Palaia’s surreal sculptures of suitcases and softly glowing romantic
color images of travel may be a beacon for those of us who internalize the
darkness we see and feel around us. It is not that the world does or does
not intrinsically make sense so much as we make whatever sense of it we
can. Photography, with its roots ineluctably embedded in the real and the
present, is well suited to this necessary act of our persistence and
survival.
Though not featured in this exhibition I would like to extend a nod to
three honorable mentions. Dona Schwartz’s study of the domestic settings
of expectant parents, Candace Plummer Gaudiani’s moody fragmented
landscapes glimpsed from train windows, and Raina Matar’s exploration of
women and the veil in her native
Alison D. Nordström
is curator of Photographs at George Eastman House, the oldest and largest
museum of photography in the
Allison Hunter
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