All_Interior-04-17-2012

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THE PHOTOGRAPHY MAGAZINE

ISSUE NUMBER ONE

Chema Madoz (born 1958) is a Spanish photographer. He is known for his black and white surrealist photographs. The work contains a sort of smiling poetry in which objects enter into relations that are not so much absurd as a unique encoding. He considers himself an object sculptor who works from a photographer’s viewpoint, yet he also insists that for him photography is little more than a record of memory which allows him to capture an idea. Walker Evans (November 3, 1903 – April 10, 1975) was an American photographer. There was a kind of photography that was so plain and common, so free of personal handwriting, that it seemed almost the antithesis of art: the kind of photography that was seen in newspapers and newsreels, on picture postcards, and in the windows of real-estate dealers. Perhaps this blunt and simple vocabulary could be used with intelligence, precise intention, and coherence: with style. Evans’ wanted his work to be “literate, authoritative, transcendent.” The photographer must define his subject with an educated awareness of what it is and what it means; he must describe it with such simplicity and sureness that the result seems an unchallengeable fact, not merely the record of a photographer’s opinion; yet the picture itself should possess a taut athletic grace, an inherent structure . . . RALPH EUGENE MEATYARD (May 15, 1925 – May 7, 1972) was an American photographer, from Normal, Illinois. Meatyard suffered a fate common to artists who are very much of but also very far ahead of their time. Everything about his life and his art ran counter to the usual and expected patterns. He was an optician, happily married, a father of three, president of the Parent-Teacher Association, and coach of a boy’s baseball team. He lived in Lexington, Kentucky, far from the urban centers most associated with serious art. His images had nothing to do with the gritty “street photography” of the east coast or the romantic view camera realism of the west coast. His best known images were populated with dolls and masks, with . . .

CHEMA MADOZ

RALPH EUGENE MEATYARD

WALKER EVANS

FROM PAGE 4 TO PAGE 19

FROM PAGE 20 TO PAGE 33

FROM PAGE 34 TO PAGE 52

SOMETHING UNTOLD IN THE QUOTIDIAN

NO FOCUS

THE MESSAGE AND THE BUILDING

SELECTED WORKS 1990’S

SELECTED WORKS 1950’S

SELECTED WORKS 1950’S

US $10 CAN $16 U.K. ₤7


CONTENTS:

PAGE 4 TO 19

CHEMA MADOZ

SOMETHING UNKNOWN IN THE QUOTIDIAN / SELECTED WORKS 1990’S

PAGE 20 TO 33

RALPH EUGENE MEATYARD

NO FOCUS / SELECTED WORKS 1950’S

PAGE 34 TO 52

WALKER EVANS

THE MESSAGE AND THE BUILDING


Prison

Bird

Satis fied

High

Heavy

Cook

Hit

Head

Fall

Scorn

Working

Tobacco

Water

Ring

Green

Book

Sleep

Sour

Baby

Needle

Zahn

Water

Unjust

Month

Earth

Moon

Dance

Window

Sing

Frog

Pretty

Trouble

Scissors

Bread

Frog

Death

Divorce

Woman

Soldier

Quiet

Lamp

Like

Long

Hunger

Scold

Cabbage

Green

Tree

Flower

Ship

White

Table

Hard

Salt

Dark

Son

Count

Child

Dark

Eagle

Street

Mountain

Wild

Window

Attend

Music

Stomach

King

Heart

Warder

Friendly

Pencil

Sickness

Stem

Cheese

Hair

Tears

Table

Sad

Man

Lamp

Blossom

Bird

Fern

Question

Prune

Deep

Dream

Afraid

Salz

War

Village

Marry

Soft

Yellow

Wood

Dream

Oven

Cold

House

Eating

Bread

Hit

Paper

Faithful

Stem

Dear

Mountain

Justice

To idle

White

Once

Dance

Glass

House

Boy

delightful

Wood

Wonder

Sea

Dispute

Black

Light

Dream

Game

Bloody

Sick

Fur

Mutton

Health

Studies

Book

Must

Proud

Big

Comfort

Bible

Angry

Pencil

Rights

Cook

Turnip

Hand

Memory

Thirteen

Revenge

Ink

Paint

Short

MADOZ

I am not

Sheep

Dance

School

Hope

Evi l

Part

Fruit

Bath

Year

Sing

Lock

Needle

Old

Butterfly

Cottage

1904

Strange

Small

Swim

Flowers

Smooth

Swift

Copy-book

Gowl

Arm

Trip

Hit

Command

Blue

pen

Rude

Play

Blue

Box

Chair

1990Hungry to 2001

family

Coffee

Liberty

Lamp

Wild

Sweet

Priest

Paper

Fruit

Blue

Sin

Family

Whistle

Bread

Wash

Rich

CHEMA

Objetos Ocean

Line

Sacrifice

Wrong

Woman

madrid Head

Take care

False

Sorrow Stern

Cow

Cold

Stove

I should

Helm

Take care

Tree

Foreign

Slow

Long

Pencil

Wedding

Stroke

Stick

Happiness

Wish

Religion

Big

Misery

Nature

Sympathy

Lie

River

Whiskey

At last

Hay

Grand

Yellow

Decorum

White

Child

it will end

Asylum

Folk

Mountain

Close

Beautiful

Bitter

School

Grandmother

Sweet

Die

Brother

Window

Hammer

Bench

Angry

Family

Salt

To fear

Rough

Thirsty

People

Raspberry

Murderer

New

Stork

Citizen

City

very worthy

Need

Friendly

Moral

Wrong

Foot

Square

Sing

Year

Everywhere

Pray

Anxiety

Spider

Butter

choir

Home

Hover

Money

Kiss

Needle

Doctor

Murderer

Threaten

Count

Stupid

Fiance(e)

Red

Loud

in C

Vinegar

Rank

Magazine

Pure

Sleep

Thief

Father

Trap

Skull

Despise

Door

Anger

Lion

Walk

Sour

Row

Finger

Choose

Carpet

Joy

Head

Throat

Warn

Expensive

Hay

Girl

Bed

Ink

Youth

Analyse

1996


El culto al huevo Estalla la Primavera, llega la Pascua y las aves, en pleno celo, ponen huevos sin parar. Se ponen cluecas y los incuban. Y los cestos rebosaban. Tortas y pasteles, mercados y ferias, regalos amistosos y tributos feudales se satisfacían en docenas de huevos. Hasta los años setenta, por estas fechas, se alegraba a los maestros de escuela con un presente ovario y todavía se paga la Salpassa del Miércoles Santo con pares o docenas de huevos.Protagonizan la gastronomía y la

liturgia. Serán comida ritual de los Pelegrins de les Useres, a finales de abril. Y eran colgados en las macetas de los maigs, formenteres o grills, las plantaciones de gramíneas, regadas a menudo y cultivadas por mujeres en la oscuridad para obtener brotes espesos, largos y blancos y ornar los monuments de las iglesias; las matronas griegas y romanas sembraban los mismos granos, en parecidos tiestos, a fin de engalanar las tumbas de Adonis, el dios joven que muere y resucita para procurar el

despertar primaveral de la natura. Esos huevos adquirirían extensas virtudes curativas y mágicas, las mismas que poseían los puestos por las gallinas desde el Jueves Santo al Domingo de Gloria, tenidos por eficaces talismanes contra todo mal y desventura; sintomáticamente, se creía que ayudaban a las doncellas a encontrar amante y, una vez encontrado, procuraban un parto en buena hora. DOMINGO, 15 de abril de 2001 / El País

crack!

UN HOME ESTERNUDA Un home esternuda. Passa un cotxe. Un botiguer tira la porta de ferro

a round reproductive body produced by the female of certain animals, like birds and some reptiles.

USE A

S POON !

HOW TO

BOIL A EGG:

1. Place the raw egg in a saucepan. 2. Run water into the sauce pan until the water is 1 inch above the egg. 3. Place the saucepan on stove and cook over medium heat until the water boils.Reduce the heat to low. 4. Simmer for 2 to 3 minutes for softboiled eggs or 10 to 15 minutes for hard boiled eggs. 5. Remove the egg with a spoon or ladle and let it cool slowly, or run cold water over it to cool it more quickly.

the EGGCUP is a small cup or bowl for serving a boiled egg.

PG. 6

avall. Passa una

Brossa , J oan

an egg is

dona amb

By analyzing the hazardous map of signals that things emit from the places they occupy in the world, Madoz individualizes, disrupts, confronts and manipulates until he is able to show a new order, the hidden face of sense, a new symbolic truth that by its impact highlights the disorder of logic. The things, the objects, transferred to a new location and stripped of the natural environment where they performed their functions, now emit different signals in front of the camera. Converted into signs, they are now literally talking. Or even better, they are images that are literarily talking. Because by basing himself on the aesthetics of similarity and the proximity of points of reference, Madoz displaces the natural sense of concepts to other forms of comprehension, fully exploiting their symbolic potential and resolving their discourse with figures and tropes closely related to language: visual analogies, metaphors, paradoxes or metonymies that invite viewers to a game of poetic perception and demand their active participation. Madoz’s work, therefore, has many literary neighbors. His compositions approach minimalist poetry and the contrast of poetic images that produces a metaphorical explosion with evocations ranging from the Mallarmé of “A throw of dice will never abolish chance,” to oriental haiku, which combine two different images that are finally related in the third verse. They may also recall the greguerías of Ramón Gómez de la Serna : “The giraffe is a carpeted animal,” or “Suicidal flowers grow amidst the railroad tracks,” or, what is perhaps my favorite: “Know yourself too well and you’ll refuse your own handshake.” Here is also a line connecting Madoz’s work with artists who express themselves using the irony of objects, such as Marcel Mariën or the Marcel Broodthaers of, for example, “Casserole et moules fermées”, which Broodthaers himself explains in a way very reminiscent of Madoz’s work: “The bursting out of the mussels from the casserole does not follow the laws of boiling, it follows the laws of artifice and results in the construction of an abstract form.” Madoz’s encounter with Joan Brossa is also well known. They worked together on a book (Fotopoemario) before Brossa’s death in 1998, and Madoz’s work has also been compared to the visual poems of this Catalan poet with whom he obviously shared a fine sense of humor and the ability to establish associations between objects to produce evidence, although Madoz, as Castro Flórez has pointed out, focuses his lens

C H E M A

beyond the mere presence of the object and its semiotic displacements to contribute the ultimately photographic dimension of his work. M y r e l a t ions h i p w i t h p h o t og r a p h y w a s a se r endi p i t y . P h o t og r a p h y w a s no t some t h i ng I w a s p l a nning t o do . I j u s t b o u g h t a c a me r a b y p u r e c h a n c e .

una garrafa plena d'aigua. Me'n vaig a dormir. Això és tot.

KINDS OF EGGS Chicken eggs from various chicken breeds emerge in different

Photography is inherently the capture of a fleeting instant. All of Chema Madoz’s work shares this clear relationship with the ephemeral. The conjunction achieved does not need to exist either before or after being photographed. The materiality of the idea is not the final goal of the work performed, but merely its frame, its portrait or, as in the traditional snapshot, its exact moment. His black-and-white format also lends a melancholy distance. The scale of grays turns things into shadows which, faded within an unreal world, express themselves as ghosts. They preserve their iconic identity but are absorbed into an abstract metalanguage. We recognize them although they no longer belong to this world. Madoz works with the shadows of things to obtain a plastic elegance that blends his entire work together, giving it formal coherence and enabling him to perform a technically accurate surgical exercise. Sense and precision are decisive elements in articulating an idea. Madoz collects ideas whose trail can be followed perfectly by observing the strange objects scattered around his studio, now unattached machines. His system of accumulation can recall the cabinets of curiosities held in such esteem by the surrealists: André Breton’s workshop or Gómez de la Serna’s El Torreón. As in Arman’s “Accumulations” or the objects trapped in Joseph Cornell’s boxes, Madoz has searched all over the world for meaningful material, but the objects he finds, orders and builds are not essential to his work; they are just the subsidiary elements he uses to photograph an idea. Chema Madoz works on the delicate border existing between the real and the imaginary. In his work he proposes to us a split between what exists and the long shadow of what is possible, a counterpoint between the essence of things and their latent meanings. The poet Pierre Reverdy, quoted by Eduardo Cirlot in his A Dictionary of Symbols, says: “An image is a pure creation of the spirit. It cannot be engendered by a comparison

M A D O Z

shades because of pigments which are deposited as the eggs move through the hen’s oviduct. The pigment depositions are determined by the chicken’s genetics, with some breeds producing rich dark brown eggs, for example, while others lay snow white eggs. The eggs inside are essentially identical; there are no major flavor differences between chicken eggs from different birds, as the flavor is determined by the chicken’s diet. There are three main colors for chicken eggs. Most eggs in the store come in white or shades of brown. It is also possible to find blue to green chicken eggs, which come from the Aracuana, a breed of chicken developed in Chile. Araucanas have also been crossed with other breeds to produce the Americauna, sometimes called the “Easter egg chicken” in a reference to its multicolored eggs. Originally, all chicken eggs were probably brown. Over time, people selectively bred chickens with progressively lighter eggs, ultimately producing white chicken eggs, which came to be the norm. Brown eggs were reintroduced to the market in the late 20th century, although people on farms were already quite familiar with the them. Some classic white egg laying breeds include Andalusians, Faverolles, Dorkings, Leghorns, and Lakenvelders. Barnevelders, Rhode Island Reds, Jersey Giants, Delawares, and Orpingtons are well known for their brown eggs, which vary in color from light cream to dark brown.

1994


tobacco chamber mortise bowl

ferrule

shank

T he 1 9 9 9 e l ect i o n s to the M ad r i d A s s em b ly w e r e the

L A V E U ES C R I TA

f i f th e l ect i o n s to the M ad r i d A s s em b ly, the u n i came r a l

Passen les hores, els dies, les

r e g i o n a l l e g i s l at u r e o f the a u to n omo u s comm u n i t y

setmanes.

o f M ad r i d , s i n ce the S pa n i s h t r a n s i t i o n to democ r ac y.

El mes passat ja

draft hole

és molt de temps. El rellotge toca contínuament l’hora.

Q1: YOUR WORK REQUIRES A SCULPTURE-LIKE PREPARATION OF AN OBJECT. WHY PHOTOGRAPH THEM AS OPPOSED TO JUST PRESENTING THEM PHYSICALLY? WHAT DOES PHOTOGRAPHY CONTRIBUTE?

IT GIVES IT DISTANCE, IT TAKES THE OBJECT TO A INTANGIBLE TERRITORY AS THE ONE WHERE IT COMES FROM, THE IMAGINATION.

Stem The part that connects the shank with the bit.

a pi pe is used for smoking

tobacco opium or

other substances

The National Museum Art Center Reina Sofía dedicates thesolo exhibit “Objects 1990 - 1999”. First retrospective that the museum dedicates to a spanish photographer.

tot ho adoba. (No estem amb un lleó que trepitja els ocells i té un lloro a l’orella.) Ara m’arrepenjo en una paret. He fet servir d’escombra

aquests poemes per netejar

but by the coming together of two distant realities. The more distant and accurate the relationships between the two realities brought together, the stronger the image and the more emotional power and poetic reality it will possess.” Curiously, Cirlot offers us this quotation to analyze the symbolic power of the Equivocal. What is equivocal intrinsically contains the possibility of error, with the consequences that implies. An error produces the instantaneous perception of what is correct. It calls for order or equilibrium to be restored. But in itself it is a road without return; its effects remain and create reality. According to Reverdy, creating equivocal images forces you to err only in the exact measure required. Chema Madoz plays in this field by using many tones; tones that vary from pop humor to a deep revelation of the hermetic language. This range, which Madoz expresses very naturally, must have something to do with the spirit of the things themselves which also have their own language. There are objects in Madoz’s work that demonstrate a unique metonymic ability for showing transformations. Thus he uses one stone for drawing (a track, an exclamation mark, a thought), for sculpting (a cactus, a tree) or for manipulating (a globe). In all cases, the stone contributes its weight and apparent insensitivity. The chessboard and its pieces also appear frequently in the artist’s images. He uses them to prepare a refined variety of games within the game or, by simply placing the board on the piano, he establishes a perfect analogy between geometry, complexity and music. The board is equal to the challenge. Water, matches, maps, clocks, books, spoons, musical notes and various tools also appear regularly and offer enigmatic senses filled with symbolic power. In some cases, it is a single object that has been slightly transformed: with a simple oblique movement, a small pair of scissors becomes a jet plane, or a somewhat deformed hairpin turns into a weeping eye. In other cases, the object is a patient subjected to a serious operation: a drain embedded in the planisphere offers a dizzying visualization of the universe. On occasion, however, Madoz offers us C H E M A

sculptures built on purpose to obtain a specific result: wire that becomes a transparent cactus or a barbed-wire cage. Sometimes objects are linked to other objects by forms and sometimes by concepts. Madoz constantly revisits certain concepts: Time with its measurements and fears; Feelings, which are strangely hardened in his work as shown by the playing card containing a five of hearts made with fish hooks or the violent couple TU (you) and YO (me), or his caustic allusions to Consumption, where he ironically uses the well-studied and forceful tools of advertising photography. Many of the moments photographed have been prepared to exist only for the instant the camera records them, particularly those obtained in nature (raindrops on sand or water, the cloud caught in the bird cage, the musical notes hanging from branches like fruit, the grass crosswalk...). Nature is alive; it is active. Anything built on nature becomes transformed. The ephemeral nature of these works recalls the earthworks of Andy Goldsworthy or Richard Long which once photographed are abandoned to the vagaries of the climate and gradually become blurred until all traces of them are erased. The works made with ice cubes also belong to this category and Madoz uses their short existence as a metaphor for success, good fortune or gifts. One very important part of his work comprises sculptures or installations that could perfectly well be shown in an exhibition space in their true physical condition. Madoz presents them to us as photographs. Many of the pieces composed of musical instruments or scores belong to this concept: the cymbals and hi-hat from a set of drums that have been resolved with vinyl records, the score installed on a church portico, the cello-oar... they all belong to a universe parallel to that of Christian Marclay, an artist who centers his work on music and sound and who, unlike Madoz, produces his work indiscriminately in photographs, installations, sculptures, video and even live actions. The sets that Madoz builds in which light is reflected on a plane also belong here: the delicate piece where Tanizaki’s M A D O Z

racons del pensament. Alguna vegada m’he pintat de negre, però les frases han sortit directes i s’han convertit en una eina de la tenacitat contra la pega. A partir d’un cert grau de poder el judici moral ja no és possible. Els interessos de les nacions veiem que pugen sobre els drets humans. Venen com fan les coses i no les coses que fan. La millor sort dels daus és no jugar-hi.

Brossa , J oan

PG. 8

*1999

El sol de març

Muntanya avall tothom entra a la dansa. No hi ha ningú que traci una muralla. Els catalans preguntem i els forasters no contesten. Per això sóc dels qui creuen que l’aigua és trista. Veig en els sorolls la prolongació de les paraules. Encara som lluny d’un cel sense núvols i a la terra els déus estan en males mans. La santa obediència al servei de qui no és sant poc sembla una virtut. Als llibres sagrats hi surten cucs que s’alimenten de lletra morta. Quan estic pensatiu m’agrada tenir obert. No puc afegir res més a la veritat que porto dintre.

*


Considered

a visual poet, he

develops

A pair of

shoes

Spanish films released in 1996:

T i e r r a — directed A c t r i u s — directed Ta x i — d i r e c t e d

by

by

by

U n A s u n t o P r i v a d o — directed

julio medem ,

ventura pons , carlos saura ,

El perro del hortelano — d i r e c t e d

by

E s p o s a d o s — directed

by

pilar miró ,

by

imanol arias ,

j . c . fresnadillo ,

L i b e r t a r i a s — directed T e s i s — directed

by

by

vicente aranda ,

alejandro amenábar ,

É x t a s i s — directed

by

mariano barroso

associations

from such common items

as a key, a stone or

a ladder

relationship with images is what makes me focus on objects, and this is a kind of way that allows me to speak about my own emotions, my own feelings, my ideas… But this is something I’ve gone

in images that

about discovering over the years.

overflow with a rush of

creativity.

PASSEIG

Brossa , J oan

Hi ha aspectes parcials de la realitat que deslligats del conjunt deformen el sentit dels fets.

the knot

theory In topology, knot theory is the study of mathematical knots. While inspired by knots which appear in daily life in shoelaces and rope, a mathematician’s knot differs in that the ends are joined

11 -12

-4 -10 3

5

9

8

2

7 6

1

together so that it cannot be undone. In precise mathematical language, a knot is an embedding of a circle in 3-dimensional Euclidean space, R3. Two mathematical knots are equivalent if one can be transformed into the other via a deformation of R3 upon itself (known as an ambient isotopy); these transformations correspond to manipulations of a knotted string that do not involve cutting the string or passing the string through itself.

PG. 9

*1996 In 1996 the Publisher Mestizo, A. C., from Murcia publishes one of Chema’s photography books. The book is titled “Mixtos – Chema Madoz”.

poem “In Praise of Shadows” appears illuminated by the light from a window, the moon reflected on the stage curtain or the strips of negatives that stop light from entering. These are mysterious images imbued with suspense and evocation. And the ladder leaning on the crutch. They are all photographed scenes, captive in their informative frame. It is usually true that our information about the current state of contemporary art is mainly photographic. We learn about it through photographs. Whatever the technical resources and format of the exhibition space, the documentation that we receive about all works and that ultimately becomes available to everyone is their photographic reproduction. Therefore, although occasionally we have been able to see for a few minutes Robert Gober’s pieces containing shoe-clad, cut-off legs spread along a wall with candles or tattoos adorning the thighs or his Madozian deformed playpens, the final result is the photograph of an object that expresses for subjective understanding this idea of misery, trauma or wounds. Photographed symbolic power. Many artists work as if they were at the ping-pong table, successively playing on both sides, confronting the poles between the icons of the prosaic and the high cultures. Today a good deal of art responds to the words of Georges Bataille: “It is clear that the world is pure parody. All we see in it is the parody of something else; it is even the same thing with an even more misleading form.” This is true of Vik Muñiz or Wim Delvoye among others who, like Madoz, insist in their constructions on the effect of appearance and its ironic visual result. Delvoy proposes, for example, a floor made apparently of old tiles decorated with complicated arabesques, whereas in reality it turns out to be a delicate drawing made out of bologna sausages and ham (Marble Floor). But next to Delvoye and his lovely baroque constructions, Madoz seems a contemplative monk. I have the same sensation when I try to consider his work within his generation in the international art scenario. There are many artists who work with images according to the objectives proposed by Pierre Reverdy and C H E M A

within Bataille’s perspective, but Madoz alone does so from a Stoic viewpoint. Madoz always performs a balanced exercise of self-control. He tries to appear as little as possible in his work and lets things and objects speak for him. That’s why he places them in a neutral space at the precise distance. To illustrate his way of working, Chema Madoz attempts a risky experience for the first time in this exhibition: he has installed a physical piece in the exhibition before photographing it. And this is risky because it is unusual for Madoz, accustomed as he is to the time and silence of both his studio and nature, to have to do his work under such close circumstances: while his exhibition is being mounted and in time to include a photograph on the cover of the catalogue. The ghosts of all his ideas and images, which for some reason or another never came to life, meet there. The piece is composed of 28 wooden ladders joined together at a 15º angle to form a large circle. It will remain installed throughout the exhibition and afterward, once its goal has been reached, only the photographic image will remain. The large circle of ladders is converted forever into something else: spider web, radiant sun or a metaphysical metaphor of life and death. The circle contains steps that all lead to the same point, which is the center and also the end. This collection of Chema Madoz’s photographs invites us to participate in a game of perception. The images speak to us; they suggest we take a stroll through understanding. But this is not a question of finding the solution to a hieroglyph. The enigma has been resolved existed in potential before the artist found its plastic resolution and revealed the unfathomable sense of the things that calmly and silently spend their time talking in the places we have assigned them. This collection of Chema Madoz’s photographs invites us to participate in a game of perception. The images speak to us; they suggest we take a stroll through understanding. But this is not a question of finding the solution to a hieroglyph. The enigma has been resolved M A D O Z

Shoeshiner Shoeshiner or boot polisher is a profession in which a person polishes shoes with shoe polish. They are often known as shoeshine boys because the job is traditionally that of a male child. While the role is deprecated in much of Western civilisation there are children that earn an important wage for their family in many countries throughout the world. Some shoeshiners offer extra services, such as shoe repairs and general tailoring. Many well-known and high profile people started their working life as shoeshiners, including singers and presidents.

Curiously, when people appeared in my photographs, there came a moment when it stopped being interesting to me. I was left with the feeling that I had to take hundreds of the same photo, and then it lost its mystery, it stopped appealing to me. In turn, working with objects continues to fascinate me. Photography allows me to work with these objects from very different angles. There’s the purely photographic angle, there are others in which it has a more graphic character, others that are almost sculptures, and others that are much closer to installations. It’s a terrain that allows me to work from many angles and different directions. By photographing such different expressions, I endow my work with a certain homogeneity that in this case comes from a formal approach to the same technique.


2001

1996


The history of the

COLOR

universe

TIME

began some

thirteen thousand

å Poesia Visual å LA FOTOGRAFIA ME HACE DISFRUTAR

I NTAN G I B L E

million

years ago with the

sta r t THE SCENES OF THE PHOTOGRAPHS: AT THE BEGGINING THE OBJECTS WOULD APPEAR IN A SETTING THAT WAS USUAL. IF IT WAS A BOOK, I WOULD DO IT IN A BOOKCASE, THE EXPECTED PLACE WHERE YOU WOULD FIND IT.

expansion that has

not

stopped accelerating

Sheet Music and Books

since then. In the

year 2004,

farthest

from the

Earth was located

thirteen thousand

million light years from

our planet. The drain of the

unknown is found in the depth of

appearances and the

cutting edge of the

In 1996 the Publisher Mestizo, A. C., from Murcia publishes one of Chema’s photography books.

Black and White / Color The mechanism of the body of work is to always work with the same rescources if possible. If we compare color with black and white we are ending up with the "reduced" option. Black and white takes the image somewhere else, it is much more obvious that what you are looking at is a representation of something else. Black and white is harder to establish in time. With color it's simpler to establish a determined time period. For example the color of each decade is different than the other. A photograph from the sixties or from the eighties is different to the ones now. We aren't conscious of the conditions that color has in a decade until you are able to look back. When time goes by the color changes and the idea that we had of color has changed. It's a kind of convention. By the passing of the years you can tell that the color is different. It only tells to situate the image in a specific period of time while a photograph in black and white could be from the start of the century or from many years later. It's much more ambiguous and thats something that interests me.

With time the relation between the setting and the object started to become blurred. The sight started to focus on the object itself and the backgrounds started to play a different role. They became more neutral, more light, cleaner and helped the object take the lead in the image. These naked settings isolate the object in time, there is something intangible about that, it's a different kind of understanding, it becomes more grafic and it focuses on the little alteration. Some objects can still keep appearing in their physical location, but for the most part it's a process of elimanation, and there is times that I feel that it's getting harder to take things away and that the next step would be complete emptyness.

My first camera was a Olympus OM-1 Q 4 : W ITH THE PROLI F ERATION O F PHOTOGRAPHY , DO YOU THIN K IT I S BECOMING MORE DI F F ICULT TO S TAND OUT IN THE ART W ORLD ?

IT IS TRUE THAT THERE ARE MUCH MORE PEOPLE USING PHOTOGRAPHY BUT, FOR EXAMPLE EVERYONE HAS PAPER AND PENCIL AND THAT ISN'T MAKING THE SITUATION MORE COMPLICATED FOR WRITERS.

inconceivable amidst the

pages

I WORKED AT A BANK AND I HATED IT, THE ONLY THING I WAS ALSO DOING AT THAT TIME WAS TAKING PHOTOGRAPHS AND I DECIDED TO FOCUS ON THAT

With your

toy bucket you empty

t h e ocean.

Photograph

sense to

Titles, Titles

photograph

can be used in

completely

different ways.

escapes our

Magritte’s work comes

to mind as an artist

PHOTOGRAPHY USED TO HAVE A VERY DIRECT RELATION WITH "THE TRUTH", WITH BEING A WITNESS. BUT I WAS AMAZED WITH THE IDEA THAT I COULD PLAY AND FALSIFY REALITY.

fantastic

titles that ended up

adding

the invisible

or that which

perception,

except when the key

finally opens up an impassable

landscape. Disturbingly or

another element

humorously

to the image,

and preferably

and added

through

more disorder

visual poems

to the

rather than

disorder

ocular

already

effects and

produced by

by spiritual

the image

exercises

itself.

rather than

I found it hard to

enrich

a title.

attention

I saw that

on what is

with the

merging,

titles I was

which is often

considering

the senses of sight and

hearing as in his musical

pieces. He

devoted to doing

for that

something new in order

to see

to do away

something new,

Th e y s ay Faith i s believing wh at

with them

to creating

w e d o n ' t see . Poetry i s creating

the door

wh at w e w i l l n e v e r see . C H E M A

M A D O Z

gerardo diego

and leave

open.

IMPRESSION OF SURPRISE WITH YOUR PHOTOGRAPHS.

One has to do something new, in order to find something new.

WHAT DOES IT

TAKE TO

Lichtenberg

SURPRISE YOU? THE SAME THAT IT WOULD

SURPRISE

I recall an anecdote from my childhood... I arrived late on the first day of class. All the other children were already seated around a large table in the kitchen and there was no space for me. The teacher said, Don't worry, we'll prepare a place right away, and she opened the door of the oven so that I could use it as a desk. I sat down on my stool with my notebook lying on the open door and looked into the black interior of the oven.

Objects

Chema Madoz — My name is Chema Madoz and I take photographs. I started doing this around the early 1980s. It was quite a discovery for me to find the possibility of working with something that I truly enjoyed and that let me tell stories and that gave me the opportunity to create a different reality. It's been 30 years since I started and I'm not yet tired of it.

ANY OTHER PERSON, FINDING

SOMETHING UNKNOWN IN THE

EVERYDAY.

1991 19801987 20 201 0 1983 1 01918958061 0 2 20 2001 1985 01 89 1988 19291 1995 19 19 88 0 019 1980 1 92 1998

MADOZ In 1996 the Publisher Mestizo, A. C., from Murcia publishes one of Chema’s photography books. The book is titled “Mixtos – Chema Madoz”.

Q3: IN YOUR CASE, PHOTOGRAPHS ARE NOT JUST A SIMPLE CLICK AND IT’S ALREADY CLOSE TO BECOMING ART, HOW DO YOU COMFRONT THE FEARED “BLANK PIECE OF PAPER”? HOW DO YOUR PHOTOGRAPHS HAPPEN?

FROM THE SAME PERSPECTIVE AS ANY OTHER CREATOR, WITH THE LOSS OF BALANCE THAT EMPTYNESS PROVOKES. THE IMAGES DON’T HAPPEN FROM A SPECIFIC PROCESS. SOME OF THEM ARE PURELY INTUITIONS THAT I TRY TO MATERIALIZE THROUGH OBJECTS, THERE ARE ALSO OCCASIONS WHEN THERE IS ALREADY A CONCEPT AND WHAT YOU NEED TO FIND IS THE OBJECTS THAT IN SOME FORM ALREADY HAVE AN ESSENCE OF THE IDEA THAT YOU WANT TO REFERENCE. IN SOME OCCASIONS THE IMAGE CAN COME FROM CONTEMPLATING THE OBJECT.

is solely

interpretation

image.

THE OBJECTS ONCE USED PILE UP IN THE STUDIO LIKE STUDIO MATERIAL THAT CAN BE REUSED IN OTHER COMPOSITIONS.

distracted by

focuses his

a line of

the hidden face of the things the hidden face of the things the hidden face of the things the hidden face of the things

TO CAUSE A

Madoz is never

when I added

a clue,

Q5: YOU TEND

tricks,

confusion but

giving

Q2: WHAT HAPPENS WITH THE OBJECTS AFTER THEY HAVE BEEN PHOTOGRAPHED? HAVE YOU EVER EXHIBITED THEM?

optical

the image

ended up

A DV E RT I S I N G

of the gaze

So I decided

of the

kno w n .

It only makes

who had

of an

the galaxy

CHEMA

The Absence of

in order to believe in

what we will never see.

photometer

Chema Madoz looks at things

the way the chess knight moves he focuses his eyes straight ahead and they go two squares forward and one sideways

Reality , t h a t labyrinth w i t h no escape f o r reason, i s a fabric woven o f enigmas , specters a n d mirages that mutually oppose , superimpose a n d interpose themselves. As we learn to see , we learn to think about what we see. O r t h e opposite . Th e identity o f t h e globe i s reversible. " Nature moderates this world-kingdom which you see by changing ." C H E M A

M A D O Z

Seneca

P H O T O M E T E R


hand tricks! Clapping with one hand: First, Make your fingers very firm. And then quickly loosen and whip your middle and thumb fingers together. The result should be a whipped sound, but will sound enough like a clap.

Pulling your thumb off: First, put your left hand out so all your fingers are touching and straight and your thumb is tucked so if you looked at your knuckles, you would only see half of your thumb. Second, bend your right thumb so it’s at a right angle and put it so it looks like the other side of your thumb. Cover the crack that shows that you are putting your thumbs together with your pointer finger. And then, move your pointer finger with your right thumb, without showing that you are using two thumbs.

romança

Brossa , J oan

És un petit detall, perÒ no anteposeu el senyor al meu cognom quan em dirigiu la paraula. Gràcies!

Crossing Fingers To cross one's fingers, is an apotropaic hand gesture, used to superstitiously wish for good luck or to nullify a promise. The gesture is referred to by the common expression "fingers crossed", meaning "let's hope for a good outcome".

The 1787 Provincial Glossary of popular superstitions by Francis Grose records the recommendation to keep one's fingers crossed until one sees a dog to avert the bad luck attracted by walking under a ladder.

All methods are valid ones. I don’t have a concrete system to arrive at a conclusion, if we understand the photograph to be a conclusion. The procedure can be very different, arising from the relationship to an object or from contemplating something. Other times I have a specific feeling and look for the object that defines it, which

Guante s Luque C / d e E s p oz Y M i n a , 3, 28 0 1 2 M a d r i d, Spa i n + 3 4 9 1 5 22 32 87

demonstrates the feeling I’ve had.

On other occasions, there’s the case of images I stumble across, nothing else. These images I find are close to a discovery and can be absurd or make sense. I do an exercise to reflect on them and see if they really make sense, what are the possibilities of reading this image, etc… and that’s what pushes me to either leave it aside or take it up.

*1996 In 1996 the Publisher Mestizo, A. C., from Murcia publishes one of Chema’s photography books. The book is titled “Mixtos – Chema Madoz”.

individual exhibitions in 1996 - Palacio de los

PG. 16

Condes de Gabia, Granada - Galería P.P.O.W.,

By analyzing the hazardous map of signals that things emit from the places they occupy in the world, Madoz individualizes, disrupts, confronts and manipulates until he is able to show a new order, the hidden face of sense, a new symbolic truth that by its impact highlights the disorder of logic. The things, the objects, transferred to a new location and stripped of the natural environment where they performed their functions, now emit different signals in front of the camera. Converted into signs, they are now literally talking. Or even better, they are images that are literarily talking. Because by basing himself on the aesthetics of similarity and the proximity of points of reference, Madoz displaces the natural sense of concepts to other forms of comprehension, fully exploiting their symbolic potential and resolving their discourse with figures and tropes closely related to language: visual analogies, metaphors, paradoxes or metonymies that invite viewers to a game of poetic perception and demand their active participation. Madoz’s work, therefore, has many literary neighbors. His compositions approach minimalist poetry and the contrast of poetic images that produces a metaphorical explosion with evocations ranging from the Mallarmé of “A throw of dice will never abolish chance,” to oriental haiku, which combine two different images that are finally related in the third verse. They may also recall the greguerías of Ramón Gómez de la Serna : “The giraffe is a carpeted animal,” or “Suicidal flowers grow amidst the railroad tracks,” or, what is perhaps my favorite: “Know yourself too well and you’ll refuse your own handshake.” Here is also a line connecting Madoz’s work with artists who express themselves using the irony of objects, such as Marcel Mariën or the Marcel Broodthaers of, for example, “Casserole et moules fermées”, which Broodthaers himself explains in a way very reminiscent of Madoz’s work: “The bursting out of the mussels from the casserole does not follow the laws of boiling, it follows the laws of artifice and results in the construction of an abstract form.” Madoz’s encounter with Joan Brossa is also well known. They worked together C H E M A

on a book (Fotopoemario) before Brossa’s death in 1998, and Madoz’s work has also been compared to the visual poems of this Catalan poet with whom he obviously shared a fine sense of humor and the ability to establish associations between objects to produce evidence, although Madoz, as Castro Flórez has pointed out, focuses his lens beyond the mere presence of the object and its semiotic displacements to contribute the ultimately photographic dimension of his work. Photography is inherently the capture of a fleeting instant. All of Chema Madoz’s work shares this clear relationship with the ephemeral. The conjunction achieved does not need to exist either before or after being photographed. The materiality of the idea is not the final goal of the work performed, but merely its frame, its portrait or, as in the traditional snapshot, its exact moment. His black-and-white format also lends a melancholy distance. The scale of grays turns things into shadows which, faded within an unreal world, express themselves as ghosts. They preserve their iconic identity but are absorbed into an abstract metalanguage. We recognize them although they no longer belong to this world. Madoz works with the shadows of things to obtain a plastic elegance that blends his entire work together, giving it formal coherence and enabling him to perform a technically accurate surgical exercise. Sense and precision are decisive elements in articulating an idea. Madoz collects ideas whose trail can be followed perfectly by observing the strange objects scattered around his studio, now unattached machines. His system of accumulation can recall the cabinets of curiosities held in such esteem by the surrealists: André Breton’s workshop or Gómez de la Serna’s El Torreón. As in Arman’s “Accumulations” or the objects trapped in Joseph Cornell’s boxes, Madoz has searched all over the world for meaningful material, but the objects he finds, orders and builds are not essential to his work; they are just the subsidiary elements he uses to photograph an idea. Chema Madoz works on the delicate border existing between the real and M A D O Z

Nueva York, USA. - Galería OMR, Méjico D.F., Méjico. - X Encuentros de la Imagen, Braga, Portugal. - Galería Dieciseis, San Sebastián. - Galería Berini, Barcelona. - Galería Siboney, Santander. (catálogo)

Hidden among daily things arises new worlds. New dimensions

led by metaphor alters the perception of an immediate

reality. The absurd, the paradox, the humor are to be found at the photographers

studio.

#1 thum b Pollex

#2 inde x Digitus Secundus Manus

#3 midd l e Digitus Me’dius

#4 ring Digitus Annula’ris

#5 pin k y Digitus Mi’nimus Ma’nus


HÀLIT Trec el regtle, la caixa de

It’s harder for me to work with nuances when I express myself verbally, whereas I have other abilities when working with visual language. I can be more blunt or subtler… I have the sense I control different planes and different possibilities of reading better than if I only reflect on the verbal aspect. For me, photography has always been a kind of support. On the other hand, I’m aware that a viewer is going to see these photographs, and when constructing the images, I try to see how it’s going to be seen through different eyes other than my own. My images are very elemental, very simple, but there’s somewhat of a clock mechanism in them, something in which the image is endowed with a kind of gear that starts up when you’re in front of it.

The photographs are not only the reflex of what was there but also related to conscious of disapearing. That their photographic metaphorisations inframe things of singular symmetry or make us focus in simple items, in points of view modifying real.

compassos, i començo a traçar i dibuixar. Passa un ocell i acaba el poema.

dog walking advertising: Use phrases that grab people and make it feel like it is addressing them. For example‘Jobs, kids, responsibilities, or just want some time to yourself? Try (insert name or ‘company’ name here), a new dog walking service that will cater to you! For a low price, we will (enter services here) and allow you to take a break whilst being assured your dog is in safe hands!’ Then contact details, and add some pictures for effect, either Clipart ones or photographs you’ve taken of dogs etc. The key thing to make it stick out is nice colour, not clashing and not over the top, but eye-catching, and ditto with photographs. Then for the words, don’t use too many, but make sure you appeal to them- use words like ‘you’, and refer to busy lifestyles/jobs etc. Good luck!

Woof

I don’t end up explaining myself very well when communicating with others on a day-to-day basis. In some way, it’s harder for me to work with nuances when I express myself verbally, whereas I have other abilities when working with visual language. PG. 18

*1996 1996 Collective Exhibitions Colección Ordóñez-Falcón, IVAM, Valencia. Mirages, Chateau d’eau, Toulusse, Francia. Espaces construits... Espaces critiques. Caen, Francia. ARCO 96. Galería Moriarty. Galería Angel Romero.

By analyzing the hazardous map of signals that things emit from the places they occupy in the world, Madoz individualizes, disrupts, confronts and manipulates until he is able to show a new order, the hidden face of sense, a new symbolic truth that by its impact highlights the disorder of logic. The things, the objects, transferred to a new location and stripped of the natural environment where they performed their functions, now emit different signals in front of the camera. Converted into signs, they are now literally talking. Or even better, they are images that are literarily talking. Because by basing himself on the aesthetics of similarity and the proximity of points of reference, Madoz displaces the natural sense of concepts to other forms of comprehension, fully exploiting their symbolic potential and resolving their discourse with figures and tropes closely related to language: visual analogies, metaphors, paradoxes or metonymies that invite viewers to a game of poetic perception and demand their active participation. Madoz’s work, therefore, has many literary neighbors. His compositions approach minimalist poetry and the contrast of poetic images that produces a metaphorical explosion with evocations ranging from the Mallarmé of “A throw of dice will never abolish chance,” to oriental haiku, which combine two different images that are finally related in the third verse. They may also recall the greguerías of Ramón Gómez de la Serna : “The giraffe is a carpeted animal,” or “Suicidal flowers grow amidst the railroad tracks,” or, what is perhaps my favorite: “Know yourself too well and you’ll refuse your own handshake.” Here is also a line connecting Madoz’s work with artists who express themselves using the irony of objects, such as Marcel Mariën or the Marcel Broodthaers of, for example, “Casserole et moules fermées”, which Broodthaers himself explains in a way very reminiscent of Madoz’s work: “The bursting out of the mussels from the casserole does not follow the laws of boiling, it follows the laws of artifice and results in the construction of an abstract form.” Madoz’s encounter with Joan Brossa is also well known. They worked together C H E M A

on a book (Fotopoemario) before Brossa’s death in 1998, and Madoz’s work has also been compared to the visual poems of this Catalan poet with whom he obviously shared a fine sense of humor and the ability to establish associations between objects to produce evidence, although Madoz, as Castro Flórez has pointed out, focuses his lens beyond the mere presence of the object and its semiotic displacements to contribute the ultimately photographic dimension of his work. Photography is inherently the capture of a fleeting instant. All of Chema Madoz’s work shares this clear relationship with the ephemeral. The conjunction achieved does not need to exist either before or after being photographed. The materiality of the idea is not the final goal of the work performed, but merely its frame, its portrait or, as in the traditional snapshot, its exact moment. His black-and-white format also lends a melancholy distance. The scale of grays turns things into shadows which, faded within an unreal world, express themselves as ghosts. They preserve their iconic identity but are absorbed into an abstract metalanguage. We recognize them although they no longer belong to this world. Madoz works with the shadows of things to obtain a plastic elegance that blends his entire work together, giving it formal coherence and enabling him to perform a technically accurate surgical exercise. Sense and precision are decisive elements in articulating an idea. Madoz collects ideas whose trail can be followed perfectly by observing the strange objects scattered around his studio, now unattached machines. His system of accumulation can recall the cabinets of curiosities held in such esteem by the surrealists: André Breton’s workshop or Gómez de la Serna’s El Torreón. As in Arman’s “Accumulations” or the objects trapped in Joseph Cornell’s boxes, Madoz has searched all over the world for meaningful material, but the objects he finds, orders and builds are not essential to his work; they are just the subsidiary elements he uses to photograph an idea. Chema Madoz works on the delicate border existing between the real and M A D O Z

Dalmatian puppies are born with plain white coats, and their first spots usually appear within a week after birth. After about a month, they have most of their spots, although they continue to develop throughout life at a much slower rate. Spots usually range in size from 30 to 60 mm, and are most commonly black or brown (liver) on a white background. Other more rare colors include blue (a blue-grayish color), brindle, mosaic, tricolored (with tan spotting on the eyebrows, cheeks, legs, and chest), and orange or lemon (dark to pale yellow). Patches of color appear anywhere on the body, mostly on the head or ears, and usually consist of a solid color. A liver-spotted Dalmatian The Dalmatian coat is usually short, fine, and dense. although smoothcoated Dalmatians occasionally produce long-coated offspring which shed less often. They shed considerably yearround. The short, stiff hairs often weave into clothing, upholstery and nearly any other kind of fabric and can be difficult to remove. Weekly grooming with a hound mitt or curry can lessen the amount of hair Dalmatians shed, although nothing can completely prevent shedding. Due to the minimal amount of oil in their coats, Dalmatians lack a “dog” smell and stay fairly clean.

There are five types of bones in the human body: long, short, flat, irregular, and sesamoid.


R alph Eugene Meatyard’s death in 1972 , a week away from his 47 th birthday, came at the height of the “photo boom,” a period of growth and

ited with such wellknown and diverse photogr aphers as Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Minor White, Aaron Siskind, Harry Callahan, Robert

ambition, not reflection, a time for writing resumés, not thoughtful and inclusive histories; in the contest of reputation, dying in 1972

last decade, however, thanks in part to European critics (who since at least the time of De Tocqueville have forged early insights into

through with the publication of The Family Album of Lucybelle Cr ater ( 1974 ) which he had laid out and sequenced before his death. While

understood and appreciated. In a sense Meatyard suffered a fate common to artists who are very much of but also very far ahead of their

ferment in photogr aphy in the United States which par alleled the political and social upheavals of the 1960 s and 1970 s. It was a time of meant leaving the r ace early. 1 It was left to friends and colleagues to complete an Aperture monogr aph on Meatyard2 and carry

he lived Meatyard’s work was shown and collected by major museums, published in important art magazines, and regarded by his peers as among the most original and disturbing imagery ever created with a camer a. He exhibited with such wellknown and diverse photogr aphers as Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Minor White, Aaron Siskind, Harry Callahan, Robert Fr ank, and Eikoh Hosoe. But by the late 1970 s, his photogr aphs seemed consigned to appear mainly in exhibitions of “southern” art. In the last decade, however, thanks in part to European critics (who since at least the time of De Tocqueville have forged early insights into American culture), Meatyard’s work has reemerged, and the depth of its genius and its contributions to photogr aphy have begun to be understood and appreciated. In a sense Meatyard suffered a fate common to artists who are very much of but also very far ahead of their time. Everything about his life and his art r an counter to the usual and expected patterns. He was an optician, happily married, a father of three, president of the PTA, and coach of a boy’s baseball team. He lived in Lexington, Kentucky, far from the urban centers most associated with serious art. His images had nothing to do with the gritty “street photogr aphy” of the east coast or the romantic view camer a realism of the west coast. His best known images were populated with dolls and masks, with family, friends and neighbors pictured in abandoned buildings or in ordinary suburban backyards. At the same time he often turned from this vernacular focus and, like such photogr aphers as Henry Holmes Smith, Harry Callahan and others, produced highly experimental work. These images include multiple exposures and photogr aphs where, through deliber ate camer a movement, Meatyard took Fox Talbot’s “pencil of nature” and drew calligr aphic images with the sun’s reflection on a black void of water. However, where others used these experiments to expand the possibilities of form in photogr aphs, Meatyard consistently applied breakthroughs in formal design to the explor ation of ideas and emotions. Finally—and of great importance in the development of his aesthetic— Meatyard created a mode of “No-Focus” imagery that was distinctly his own. “No-Focus” images r an entirely counter to any association of camer a art with objective realism and opened a new sense of creative freedom in his art. In short, Meatyard’s work challenged most of the cultur al and aesthetic conventions of his time and did not fit in with the dominant notions of the kind of art photogr aphy could and should be. His work spr ang from the beauty of ideas r ather than ideas of the beautiful. Wide reading in liter ature (especially poetry) and philosophy (especially Zen) stimulated his imagination. While others roamed the streets searching for America and truth, Meatyard haunted the world of inner experience, continually posing unsettling questions about our emotional realities through his pictures. Once again, however, he inhabited this world quite differently from other photogr aphers exploring inner experience at the time. Meatyard’s “mirror” (as John Szarkowski used the term 3) was not narcissistic. It looked back reflectively on the dreams and terrors of metaphysical questions, not private arguments of faith or doubt. Meatyard’s early life offered no hint of the artist he was to become. It was his ucator, who showed artistic talent. Where Jerry was quiet, Gene was outgoing, the center of a social set, a boy who enjoyed music, dancing and good times. During World War II at age eighteen, he enrolled at Williams College as part of the Navy’s V-12 pre-dentistry progr am, but he so enjoyed working on stage plays and other extr a-curricular activities that he let his gr ades slip and was

Fr ank, and Eikoh Hosoe. But by the late 1970 s, his photogr aphs seemed consigned to appear mainly in exhibitions of “southern” art. In the American culture), Meatyard’s work has reemerged, and the depth of its genius and its contributions to photogr aphy have begun to be time. Everything about his life and his art r an counter to the usual and expected patterns. He was an optician, happily married, a father of three, president of the PTA, and coach of a boy’s baseball team. He lived in Lexington, Kentucky, far from the urban centers most associated with serious art. His images had nothing to do with the gritty “street photogr aphy” of the east coast or the romantic view camer a realism of the west coast. His best known images were populated with dolls and masks, with family, friends and neighbors pictured in abandoned buildings or in ordinary suburban backyards. At the same time he often turned from this vernacular focus and, like such photogr aphers as Henry Holmes Smith, Harry Callahan and others, produced highly experimental work. These images include multiple exposures and photogr aphs where, through deliber ate camer a movement, Meatyard took Fox Talbot’s “pencil of nature” and drew calligr aphic images with the sun’s reflection on a black void of water. However, where others used these experiments to expand the possibilities of form in photogr aphs, Meatyard consistently applied breakthroughs in formal design to the explor ation of ideas and emotions. Finally—and of great importance in the development of his aesthetic— Meatyard created a mode of “No-Focus” imagery that was distinctly his own. “No-Focus” images r an entirely counter to any association of camer a art with objective realism and opened a new sense of creative freedom in his art. In short, Meatyard’s work challenged most of the cultur al and aesthetic conventions of his time and did not fit in with the dominant notions of the kind of art photogr aphy could and should be. His work spr ang from the beauty of ideas r ather than ideas of the beautiful. Wide reading in liter ature (especially poetry) and philosophy (especially Zen) stimulated his imagination. While others roamed the streets searching for America and truth, Meatyard haunted the world of inner experience, continually posing unsettling questions about our emotional realities through his pictures. Once again, however, he inhabited this world quite differently from other photogr aphers exploring inner experience at the time. Meatyard’s “mirror” (as John Szarkowski used the term 3) was not narcissistic. It looked back reflectively on the dreams and terrors of metaphysical questions, not private arguments of faith or doubt. Meatyard’s early life offered no hint of the artist he was to become. It was his ucator, who showed artistic talent. Where Jerry was quiet, Gene was outgoing, the center of a social set, a boy who enjoyed music, dancing and good times. During World War II at age eighteen, he enrolled at Williams College as part of the Navy’s V-12 pre-dentistry progr am, but he so enjoyed working on stage plays and other extr acurricular activities that he let his gr ades slip and was dropped from the progr am. However, as he revealed in an or al history interview in 1970 his conflicts at Williams had as much to do with his stubbornly independent intellect as with his youthful energies. 4 Essentially Meatyard’s Williams experience defined him as an autodidact, and for the rest of his life he educated himself through his diverse and vor acious reading. Perhaps, given the powerful interest he showed in dr amatics during these years, it is not coincidental that masks, props and other tools of the theater would later become vital elements in his photogr aphy. After the war, Meatyard returned to Bloomington, Illinois near his birthplace, a town called Normal. He was twenty-one and, like many returning servicemen, eager to get on with his life. He soon met and married Madelyn McKinney, a strikingly beautiful blonde destined to become the hag, “Lucybelle Cr ater,”

dropped from the progr am. However, as he revealed in an or al history interview in 1970 his conflicts at Williams had as much to do with

taking her place in photo history alongside Stieglitz’s Georgia O’Keeffe, Callahan’s Eleanor, and Emmet Gowin’s Edith (who appears as one

dact, and for the rest of his life he educated himself through his diverse and vor acious reading. Perhaps, given the powerful interest he

Meatyard (who’d played the accordion in high school) began a jazz collection that grew to over 1, 500 phonogr aph records. Indeed, for

his stubbornly independent intellect as with his youthful energies. 4 Essentially Meatyard’s Williams experience defined him as an autodishowed in dr amatics during these years, it is not coincidental that masks, props and other tools of the theater would later become vital elements in his photogr aphy. After the war, Meatyard returned to Bloomington, Illinois near his birthplace, a town called Normal. He was twenty-one and, like many returning servicemen, eager to get on with his life. He soon met and married Madelyn McKinney, a strikingly beautiful blonde destined to become the hag, “Lucybelle Cr ater,” taking her place in photo history alongside Stieglitz’s Georgia O’Keeffe, Callahan’s Eleanor, and Emmet Gowin’s Edith (who appears as one of Lucybelle’s friends). The newly weds moved to Chicago where Meatyard took apprenticeship tr aining as an optician. During that time, Meatyard (who’d played the accordion in high school) began a

of Lucybelle’s friends). The newly weds moved to Chicago where Meatyard took apprenticeship tr aining as an optician. During that time, Meatyard photogr aphic pr actice became an art closer to music and poetry than to any of the other arts, 5 Many of his most memor able images lend themselves to being read as poems are read, and a silent music animates many others, especially the “Light on Water” series and the multiple exposures he called “Motion-Sound.” In 1950, Meatyard took a job with a large optical firm in Lexington where he worked until he opened his own shop, Eyeglasses of Kentucky, in 1967. While hardly a major urban center, Lexington was home to the University of Kentucky and attr acted an unusual collection of writers and intellectuals to the area especially during the 1960 s. In time, Meatyard

joined their circle and counted the poets, critics, and scholars Wendell Berry, Guy Davenport, James Baker Hall, and Jonathan Williams

jazz collection that grew to over 1, 500 phonogr aph records. Indeed, for Meatyard photogr aphic pr actice became an art closer to music

among his friends. He became close friends as well with the Tr appist monk, poet and critic Thomas Merton, who shared Meatyard’s strong

silent music animates many others, especially the “Light on Water” series and the multiple exposures he called “Motion-Sound.” In 1950,

Friendships with that company developed some years after Meatyard discovered his native artistic genius. That discovery came in his

and poetry than to any of the other arts, 5 Many of his most memor able images lend themselves to being read as poems are read, and a

interest in Zen. So, although he lived and worked in a quiet college town, Meatyard tr aveled in very creative and well-read company.

Meatyard took a job with a large optical firm in Lexington where he worked until he opened his own shop, Eyeglasses of Kentucky, in 1967.

encounter with another unusual feature of Lexington—the Lexington Camer a Club. Though camer a clubs spr ang up all over the United

While hardly a major urban center, Lexington was home to the University of Kentucky and attr acted an unusual collection of writers and intellectuals to the area especially during the 1960 s. In time, Meatyard joined their circle and counted the poets, critics, and scholars Wendell Berry, Guy Davenport, James Baker Hall, and Jonathan Williams among his friends. He became close friends as well with the Tr appist monk, poet and critic Thomas Merton, who shared Meatyard’s strong interest in Zen. So, although he lived and worked in a quiet college town, Meatyard tr aveled in very creative and well-read company. Friendships with that company developed some years after Meatyard discovered his native artistic genius. That discovery came in his encounter with another unusual feature of Lexington—the Lexington Camer a Club. Though camer a clubs R alph Eugene Meatyard’s death in 1972 , a week away from his 47 th birthday, came at the height of the “photo boom,” a period of growth and ferment in photogr aphy in the United States which par alleled the political and

States after the Photo-Secession, most focused on the gadgetry and technical aspects of photogr aphy. From its founding in 1936 , the

Lexington Camer a Club had followed a different course, one defined by artistic concerns., 6 When Meatyard joined in 1950, Van Deren Coke was the club’s dominant member. Coke, who was soon to go on and become a noted art historian, photogr apher and cur ator, had already worked with Edward Weston and Ansel Adams. Thus he was already well versed in photogr aphy and visual aesthetics. He quickly saw indications of Meatyard’s genius and began to encour age its development. As Coke recalls, his relationship with Meatyard soon became one of peers r ather than teacher and student as they went out photogr aphing together on Sunday afternoons.7 By 1954 Meatyard had

begun to study photogr aphy seriously, and in 1956 he and Coke attended an unprecedented photogr aphic workshop at Indiana University organized by Henry Holmes Smith. Together with the private tutelage he’d had from Coke, that three-week-long workshop opened the

social upheavals of the 1960 s and 1970 s. It was a time of ambition, not reflection, a time for writing resumés, not thoughtful and inclusive

floodgates of Meatyard’s creativity. Though more technical matters like the Zone System were discussed, the workshop’s emphasis fell

Aperture monogr aph on Meatyard2 and carry through with the publication of The Family Album of Lucybelle Cr ater ( 1974 ) which he had

educator, had gotten his start at Moholy-Nagy’s “New Bauhaus,” (later renamed the Institute of Design) in Chicago. 8 Shaped by Moholy-

histories; in the contest of reputation, dying in 1972 meant leaving the r ace early. 1 It was left to friends and colleagues to complete an

on analytic, historical, and personally expressive aspects of the medium, instead of its cr aft. Smith, an influential theorist and photo

laid out and sequenced before his death. While he lived Meatyard’s work was shown and collected by major museums, published in impor-

Nagy’s influence, he had long approached photogr aphy as a means of knowing. At the time of the 1956 workshop, Smith drew particular

tant art magazines, and regarded by his peers as among the most original and disturbing imagery ever created with a camer a. He exhib-

intellectual inspir ation and direction from I.A. Richards’ Pr actical Criticism and tr anslated Richards’ ideas about reading liter ature


R alph Eugene Meatyard’s death in 1972 , a week away from his 47 th birthday, came at the height of the “photo boom,” a period of growth and

ited with such wellknown and diverse photogr aphers as Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Minor White, Aaron Siskind, Harry Callahan, Robert

ambition, not reflection, a time for writing resumés, not thoughtful and inclusive histories; in the contest of reputation, dying in 1972

last decade, however, thanks in part to European critics (who since at least the time of De Tocqueville have forged early insights into

through with the publication of The Family Album of Lucybelle Cr ater ( 1974 ) which he had laid out and sequenced before his death. While

understood and appreciated. In a sense Meatyard suffered a fate common to artists who are very much of but also very far ahead of their

ferment in photogr aphy in the United States which par alleled the political and social upheavals of the 1960 s and 1970 s. It was a time of meant leaving the r ace early. 1 It was left to friends and colleagues to complete an Aperture monogr aph on Meatyard2 and carry

he lived Meatyard’s work was shown and collected by major museums, published in important art magazines, and regarded by his peers as among the most original and disturbing imagery ever created with a camer a. He exhibited with such wellknown and diverse photogr aphers as Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Minor White, Aaron Siskind, Harry Callahan, Robert Fr ank, and Eikoh Hosoe. But by the late 1970 s, his photogr aphs seemed consigned to appear mainly in exhibitions of “southern” art. In the last decade, however, thanks in part to European critics (who since at least the time of De Tocqueville have forged early insights into American culture), Meatyard’s work has reemerged, and the depth of its genius and its contributions to photogr aphy have begun to be understood and appreciated. In a sense Meatyard suffered a fate common to artists who are very much of but also very far ahead of their time. Everything about his life and his art r an counter to the usual and expected patterns. He was an optician, happily married, a father of three, president of the PTA, and coach of a boy’s baseball team. He lived in Lexington, Kentucky, far from the urban centers most associated with serious art. His images had nothing to do with the gritty “street photogr aphy” of the east coast or the romantic view camer a realism of the west coast. His best known images were populated with dolls and masks, with family, friends and neighbors pictured in abandoned buildings or in ordinary suburban backyards. At the same time he often turned from this vernacular focus and, like such photogr aphers as Henry Holmes Smith, Harry Callahan and others, produced highly experimental work. These images include multiple exposures and photogr aphs where, through deliber ate camer a movement, Meatyard took Fox Talbot’s “pencil of nature” and drew calligr aphic images with the sun’s reflection on a black void of water. However, where others used these experiments to expand the possibilities of form in photogr aphs, Meatyard consistently applied breakthroughs in formal design to the explor ation of ideas and emotions. Finally—and of great importance in the development of his aesthetic— Meatyard created a mode of “No-Focus” imagery that was distinctly his own. “No-Focus” images r an entirely counter to any association of camer a art with objective realism and opened a new sense of creative freedom in his art. In short, Meatyard’s work challenged most of the cultur al and aesthetic conventions of his time and did not fit in with the dominant notions of the kind of art photogr aphy could and should be. His work spr ang from the beauty of ideas r ather than ideas of the beautiful. Wide reading in liter ature (especially poetry) and philosophy (especially Zen) stimulated his imagination. While others roamed the streets searching for America and truth, Meatyard haunted the world of inner experience, continually posing unsettling questions about our emotional realities through his pictures. Once again, however, he inhabited this world quite differently from other photogr aphers exploring inner experience at the time. Meatyard’s “mirror” (as John Szarkowski used the term 3) was not narcissistic. It looked back reflectively on the dreams and terrors of metaphysical questions, not private arguments of faith or doubt. Meatyard’s early life offered no hint of the artist he was to become. It was his ucator, who showed artistic talent. Where Jerry was quiet, Gene was outgoing, the center of a social set, a boy who enjoyed music, dancing and good times. During World War II at age eighteen, he enrolled at Williams College as part of the Navy’s V-12 pre-dentistry progr am, but he so enjoyed working on stage plays and other extr a-curricular activities that he let his gr ades slip and was

Fr ank, and Eikoh Hosoe. But by the late 1970 s, his photogr aphs seemed consigned to appear mainly in exhibitions of “southern” art. In the American culture), Meatyard’s work has reemerged, and the depth of its genius and its contributions to photogr aphy have begun to be time. Everything about his life and his art r an counter to the usual and expected patterns. He was an optician, happily married, a father of three, president of the PTA, and coach of a boy’s baseball team. He lived in Lexington, Kentucky, far from the urban centers most associated with serious art. His images had nothing to do with the gritty “street photogr aphy” of the east coast or the romantic view camer a realism of the west coast. His best known images were populated with dolls and masks, with family, friends and neighbors pictured in abandoned buildings or in ordinary suburban backyards. At the same time he often turned from this vernacular focus and, like such photogr aphers as Henry Holmes Smith, Harry Callahan and others, produced highly experimental work. These images include multiple exposures and photogr aphs where, through deliber ate camer a movement, Meatyard took Fox Talbot’s “pencil of nature” and drew calligr aphic images with the sun’s reflection on a black void of water. However, where others used these experiments to expand the possibilities of form in photogr aphs, Meatyard consistently applied breakthroughs in formal design to the explor ation of ideas and emotions. Finally—and of great importance in the development of his aesthetic— Meatyard created a mode of “No-Focus” imagery that was distinctly his own. “No-Focus” images r an entirely counter to any association of camer a art with objective realism and opened a new sense of creative freedom in his art. In short, Meatyard’s work challenged most of the cultur al and aesthetic conventions of his time and did not fit in with the dominant notions of the kind of art photogr aphy could and should be. His work spr ang from the beauty of ideas r ather than ideas of the beautiful. Wide reading in liter ature (especially poetry) and philosophy (especially Zen) stimulated his imagination. While others roamed the streets searching for America and truth, Meatyard haunted the world of inner experience, continually posing unsettling questions about our emotional realities through his pictures. Once again, however, he inhabited this world quite differently from other photogr aphers exploring inner experience at the time. Meatyard’s “mirror” (as John Szarkowski used the term 3) was not narcissistic. It looked back reflectively on the dreams and terrors of metaphysical questions, not private arguments of faith or doubt. Meatyard’s early life offered no hint of the artist he was to become. It was his ucator, who showed artistic talent. Where Jerry was quiet, Gene was outgoing, the center of a social set, a boy who enjoyed music, dancing and good times. During World War II at age eighteen, he enrolled at Williams College as part of the Navy’s V-12 pre-dentistry progr am, but he so enjoyed working on stage plays and other extr acurricular activities that he let his gr ades slip and was dropped from the progr am. However, as he revealed in an or al history interview in 1970 his conflicts at Williams had as much to do with his stubbornly independent intellect as with his youthful energies. 4 Essentially Meatyard’s Williams experience defined him as an autodidact, and for the rest of his life he educated himself through his diverse and vor acious reading. Perhaps, given the powerful interest he showed in dr amatics during these years, it is not coincidental that masks, props and other tools of the theater would later become vital elements in his photogr aphy. After the war, Meatyard returned to Bloomington, Illinois near his birthplace, a town called Normal. He was twenty-one and, like many returning servicemen, eager to get on with his life. He soon met and married Madelyn McKinney, a strikingly beautiful blonde destined to become the hag, “Lucybelle Cr ater,”

dropped from the progr am. However, as he revealed in an or al history interview in 1970 his conflicts at Williams had as much to do with

taking her place in photo history alongside Stieglitz’s Georgia O’Keeffe, Callahan’s Eleanor, and Emmet Gowin’s Edith (who appears as one

dact, and for the rest of his life he educated himself through his diverse and vor acious reading. Perhaps, given the powerful interest he

Meatyard (who’d played the accordion in high school) began a jazz collection that grew to over 1, 500 phonogr aph records. Indeed, for

his stubbornly independent intellect as with his youthful energies. 4 Essentially Meatyard’s Williams experience defined him as an autodishowed in dr amatics during these years, it is not coincidental that masks, props and other tools of the theater would later become vital elements in his photogr aphy. After the war, Meatyard returned to Bloomington, Illinois near his birthplace, a town called Normal. He was twenty-one and, like many returning servicemen, eager to get on with his life. He soon met and married Madelyn McKinney, a strikingly beautiful blonde destined to become the hag, “Lucybelle Cr ater,” taking her place in photo history alongside Stieglitz’s Georgia O’Keeffe, Callahan’s Eleanor, and Emmet Gowin’s Edith (who appears as one of Lucybelle’s friends). The newly weds moved to Chicago where Meatyard took apprenticeship tr aining as an optician. During that time, Meatyard (who’d played the accordion in high school) began a

of Lucybelle’s friends). The newly weds moved to Chicago where Meatyard took apprenticeship tr aining as an optician. During that time, Meatyard photogr aphic pr actice became an art closer to music and poetry than to any of the other arts, 5 Many of his most memor able images lend themselves to being read as poems are read, and a silent music animates many others, especially the “Light on Water” series and the multiple exposures he called “Motion-Sound.” In 1950, Meatyard took a job with a large optical firm in Lexington where he worked until he opened his own shop, Eyeglasses of Kentucky, in 1967. While hardly a major urban center, Lexington was home to the University of Kentucky and attr acted an unusual collection of writers and intellectuals to the area especially during the 1960 s. In time, Meatyard

joined their circle and counted the poets, critics, and scholars Wendell Berry, Guy Davenport, James Baker Hall, and Jonathan Williams

jazz collection that grew to over 1, 500 phonogr aph records. Indeed, for Meatyard photogr aphic pr actice became an art closer to music

among his friends. He became close friends as well with the Tr appist monk, poet and critic Thomas Merton, who shared Meatyard’s strong

silent music animates many others, especially the “Light on Water” series and the multiple exposures he called “Motion-Sound.” In 1950,

Friendships with that company developed some years after Meatyard discovered his native artistic genius. That discovery came in his

and poetry than to any of the other arts, 5 Many of his most memor able images lend themselves to being read as poems are read, and a

interest in Zen. So, although he lived and worked in a quiet college town, Meatyard tr aveled in very creative and well-read company.

Meatyard took a job with a large optical firm in Lexington where he worked until he opened his own shop, Eyeglasses of Kentucky, in 1967.

encounter with another unusual feature of Lexington—the Lexington Camer a Club. Though camer a clubs spr ang up all over the United

While hardly a major urban center, Lexington was home to the University of Kentucky and attr acted an unusual collection of writers and intellectuals to the area especially during the 1960 s. In time, Meatyard joined their circle and counted the poets, critics, and scholars Wendell Berry, Guy Davenport, James Baker Hall, and Jonathan Williams among his friends. He became close friends as well with the Tr appist monk, poet and critic Thomas Merton, who shared Meatyard’s strong interest in Zen. So, although he lived and worked in a quiet college town, Meatyard tr aveled in very creative and well-read company. Friendships with that company developed some years after Meatyard discovered his native artistic genius. That discovery came in his encounter with another unusual feature of Lexington—the Lexington Camer a Club. Though camer a clubs R alph Eugene Meatyard’s death in 1972 , a week away from his 47 th birthday, came at the height of the “photo boom,” a period of growth and ferment in photogr aphy in the United States which par alleled the political and

States after the Photo-Secession, most focused on the gadgetry and technical aspects of photogr aphy. From its founding in 1936 , the

Lexington Camer a Club had followed a different course, one defined by artistic concerns., 6 When Meatyard joined in 1950, Van Deren Coke was the club’s dominant member. Coke, who was soon to go on and become a noted art historian, photogr apher and cur ator, had already worked with Edward Weston and Ansel Adams. Thus he was already well versed in photogr aphy and visual aesthetics. He quickly saw indications of Meatyard’s genius and began to encour age its development. As Coke recalls, his relationship with Meatyard soon became one of peers r ather than teacher and student as they went out photogr aphing together on Sunday afternoons.7 By 1954 Meatyard had

begun to study photogr aphy seriously, and in 1956 he and Coke attended an unprecedented photogr aphic workshop at Indiana University organized by Henry Holmes Smith. Together with the private tutelage he’d had from Coke, that three-week-long workshop opened the

social upheavals of the 1960 s and 1970 s. It was a time of ambition, not reflection, a time for writing resumés, not thoughtful and inclusive

floodgates of Meatyard’s creativity. Though more technical matters like the Zone System were discussed, the workshop’s emphasis fell

Aperture monogr aph on Meatyard2 and carry through with the publication of The Family Album of Lucybelle Cr ater ( 1974 ) which he had

educator, had gotten his start at Moholy-Nagy’s “New Bauhaus,” (later renamed the Institute of Design) in Chicago. 8 Shaped by Moholy-

histories; in the contest of reputation, dying in 1972 meant leaving the r ace early. 1 It was left to friends and colleagues to complete an

on analytic, historical, and personally expressive aspects of the medium, instead of its cr aft. Smith, an influential theorist and photo

laid out and sequenced before his death. While he lived Meatyard’s work was shown and collected by major museums, published in impor-

Nagy’s influence, he had long approached photogr aphy as a means of knowing. At the time of the 1956 workshop, Smith drew particular

tant art magazines, and regarded by his peers as among the most original and disturbing imagery ever created with a camer a. He exhib-

intellectual inspir ation and direction from I.A. Richards’ Pr actical Criticism and tr anslated Richards’ ideas about reading liter ature


into a series of analytic experiments in “reading” photogr aphs. The workshop exposed Meatyard to two other important figures in addi-

system of private metaphors that would reduce his enigmatic dr amas to mere puzzles. Like poems, his images can be read using the rich,

tion to Smith—Aaron Siskind (then part of the faculty at the Institute of Design along with Harry Callahan) and Minor White (then criss-

public language of metaphor and association found in the libr aries of world liter ature he consumed. Consider his image of a boy sitting

crossing the country giving workshops when he wasn’t cur ating or teaching). Siskind, a seasoned educator, had found major inspir ation

on the floor of an old house holding a reflective shard of glass in front of his face (plate 23). The gr affiti on the wall above his head

for his photogr aphy in the abstr act expressionist paintings of Fr anz Kline. Thus, seeing painting and photogr aphy as sister arts, he

offer monuments of others’ Halloween br avery left in their own handwriting—”A. J. Turner, Oct. 31, 1948 , South Irvine, Ky” We know the

stressed what photogr aphers could learn from painters and painting. As part of his contribution to the workshop, Minor White offered

names, the date, the addresses of the past visitors, but the men and women who scr atched them here remain occluded by the passage of

an eclectic list of materials serious photogr aphers ought to read. Among them were György Kepes’s The Language of Vision, Richard

time just as the face of the present, living figure sits occluded by light itself. Thus we see the past and the present together, and yet

Boleslavsky’s Acting: The First Six Lessons, works on Zen Buddhism by Eugene Herrigel and D.T. Suzuki, and material on André Breton’s con-

dimly, just as the shard of window pane masks, reflects, and remains tr ansparent simultaneously. Here among these reminders of “All

ception of surrealism 9. Meatyard read these materials closely, underlining extensively and copying out the underlined passages into a

Hallow’s Eve,” Meatyard reminds us that “now we see through a glass darkly.”16 The formal construction of the photogr aph supports and

notebook. His study of these books was perhaps the most intense of his life. Throughout his markings in Boleslavsky, for example, he cross-

extends its metaphorical contents. The arch in which the figure sits rises heavenward just as the shard seems to point up. And—as in the

es out the words “actor” and “play” and inks in “photogr apher” and “photogr aph.” Likewise his reading on the religious philosophy Zen

famous image of the one-armed man with the dress-maker’s dummy, plate 42 —the center of the picture summarizes the enigma in its re-

introduced him to ideas whose importance increased throughout his life. When Van Deren Coke left Lexington that same year ( 1956) to

fusal to mirror anything but the silent infinity of light. To appreciate Meatyard’s singular and complex originality, one might compare

begin his academic career, Meatyard became the dominant personality in the Lexington Camer a Club. His energy fueled the critiques of

his use of gr affiti with that of other photogr aphers well-known for incorpor ating it in their images—Helen Levitt, John Gutmann and

new photogr aphs that were the center of every club meeting. As Coke had done, Meatyard began to meet weekly in his home with a hand-

Aaron Siskind, for example. Seldom if ever does their formal invention elabor ate such an explor ation of ideas. But one finds this kind of

ful of especially interested and promising club members, teaching them what he had learned in Indiana as well as what he was formulat-

rewarding complexity throughout Meatyard’s imagery. Arguably, no American photogr apher during Meatyard’s lifetime combined the

ing in his own mind from his reading and artistic pr actice. More than once Meatyard declared, “I never will make an accidental

intellectual strengths of such allusive and metaphorical content with the formal strengths of a fine-art aesthetic so consistently

photogr aph.”10 During this period, Meatyard stripped image making down to a set of essentials and began to experiment with them. The

and so powerfully as he. Always, his excursions into metaphysical territory carry Meatyard’s humor into the adventure—his celebr ation

architecture of pictures engaged him, but how this architecture served emotional expression remained his primary concern. A diary he

of par adox. Indeed, one cannot escape Meatyard’s comic sense. He takes the ordinary and expected and turns them inside out, not mocking,

kept for sever al months early in 1958 shows how powerfully committed he was to his inner dialogue, a dialogue that fully forged him as

but re-visioning them unsentimentally. His “Madonna” (plate 67 ), for example, takes the conventions of Italian Madonnas and liter ally

an artist. Never does the diary suggest that Meatyard had the slightest lack of confidence in his own expressive capacity. He describes

reverses them. The child does not look out at the viewer or adoringly at the mother; the mother does not look adoringly at the child.

the photogr aphs he’s making, reveals his critical perspective by assessing the progress of his private students, alludes to the thinking of

Instead the child looks directly, somewhat rudely, at her mother’s belly, her place of origin, and her mother looks str aight off into the

a few photogr aphers— Stieglitz, Weston—but dr aws his greatest stimulation from painters: Matisse, Klee, Morris Gr aves, Mark Tobey,

darkness, perhaps into her own past. The lighting reverses the expected as well. We see the figures in silhouette against dilapidated

Larry Rivers, Charles Burchfield. Photogr aphy had opened the world of art to him, but his deepest commitment was to making pictures. To

Venetian blinds, blinds whose name, “Venetian,” provides another level of appropriate humor in the kind of wordplay Meatyard very much

explore that process, Meatyard began to paint and photogr aph simultaneously. He painted on glass and then photogr aphed the paintings

enjoyed, for it, too, points toward “Italian” art. Yet, even while carrying all this wit and humor, the image never denies its own sensuous

under different lighting conditions. He constructed ephemer al collages of paint, dead birds and other objects, allowed them to freeze

beauty. The light creates a loving halo; the profile of the mother, a disarming dignity; the darkness, a quietude as r adiant as Titian’s

in white porcelain tr ays and photogr aphed them in various stages of freezing and thawing. At times he found painting a superior medium;

color. If Meatyard’s photogr aphic sensibilities developed r apidly and soon after his introduction to the medium, his sense of the medium’s

at others, photogr aphy. “Painting is the tougher of the two mediums to use at first,” he writes, “but photogr aphy becomes the hardest

unique qualities was also challenged and confirmed early. In 1958 Meatyard encountered abstr act paintings by University of Kentucky

after you have been at it.”11 How did photogr aphy differ from painting? From poetry? From music? What did it share with them? How might

art professor Frederic Thursz (paintings which defined space through sharp and, to Meatyard, “photogr aphic” line). At the same time

photogr aphy participate, not just in the almost inescapable world of self expression, but in the world of ideas? If photogr aphs could

Meatyard was wr angling with the old criticism that photogr aphy was a mere mechanical cr aft defined by point of view and occasion as

record and comment, could they also pose questions and elabor ate thought? Meatyard wanted to know, and he saw from the start that

much as by the photogr apher’s vision. Together, these experiences led Meatyard to completely re-examine his work and his thinking

the supposed realism associated with the camer a’s capacity for optically sharp focus did not define photogr aphy’s special expressive

about photogr aphy. In studying the backgrounds of his photogr aphs (always an important element in his construction of pictures), and

power. The fundamentals of visual gr ammar and emotional expression excited Meatyard’s imagination more than external subject mat-

especially the out-of-focus backgrounds, he again concluded that “the photogr aphically sharp line” of nominal optical realism offered

ter. He saw in this gr ammar of perception, as described by Kepes and others, new ways of probing experience, new ways of knowing. Thus,

the only ground on which the “mechanical cr aft” criticism could stand. Immediately the idea of destroying that line, of creating “No-

while he sometimes described his work—especially his early work—as abstr act surrealist, he was quick to clarify that to him that meant

Focus” photogr aphy came to him, and he undertook to discover if aesthetically satisfying camer a images might be created by merely

“sur-Real” or “more real than real.”12 For Meatyard, what he called the “believability” of photogr aphy represented both a powerful tool

bringing tone masses together (plate 28 ). “I found out that I could not choose a subject, throw it out of focus, and then have a good pic-

and a dangerous tr ap. Viewers brought presumptions of truthfulness to photogr aphs that they did not bring to paintings, but he knew those presumptions could be used to lead viewers to new, “more real than real,” experiences. Before 1958 he had been calling his efforts to

ture,” he wrote. 17 “I found that I had to learn to see No-focus from the beginning.” When he showed his successful efforts, he found that most photogr aphers did not like them, but painters did. Photogr aphers, still locked to the lens as a means of focus and photogr aphs as

create such experiences “nonrepresentational emotionalism.” What he meant becomes clear in the context of the diary where he differ-

dependent on subject matter, wanted to know what they were pictures “of.” Though he made relatively few “No-Focus” images and they are

entiates “sentiment” from “sentimentality.” “Sentimentality” was particular, localized, representational; “sentiment” was abstr act, uni-

not the images most often associated with him, Meatyard regarded these as his most original contribution to the development of the

versal, but nonetheless “felt.” Thus Meatyard would put Halloween masks on his family and friends to release the “aroma of having a

medium. For him the aesthetic question and his personal resolution of it were centr al. Now fully freed in his own mind from the tyr anny

person, a human being in the picture, which stands for an entirely different thing than having a particular human being in the picture.”13

of optical realism, he could begin to return focus and the sharp edge to his pictures on his own terms. The “Zen Twigs” (plates 15, 25, 35, 75)

The nonparticularized human being presents an enigma at once grotesque, comic, mysterious and engaging, an enigma both attr active

and certain other images (for example plate 73) plot his use of “no-focus” as an element within his image making. Toward the end of his life,

and repellant, one as likely to evoke a sympathetic response as apprehension. In the very process of destroying anonymity by denying

Meatyard had evolved some sixteen different themes he was pursuing photogr aphically. Each nourished and refreshed the others. In the

particularity, the masks refuse to let us dismiss these figures as anonymous “other people.” They become instead effigies of ourselves.

final two years of his life, aware that he was dying of cancer, he had so orchestr ated his sensibility that he could, on the one hand,

Comic and tr agic, grotesque and beautiful simultaneously, Meatyard’s images pose the kind of persistent and unanswer able questions

adopt a rigorously formal and sharp-focused style in the Lucybelle Cr ater series and at the same time pursue a “camouflage” series where

that animate existence. Whether Meatyard acquired this philosophical perspective from his extensive study of Zen or whether he merely

figures in the woodland fight with blotches of sunlight for recognition and where focus seems almost irrelevant (plate ?? add 107 Aper-

found his natur al inclinations confirmed in what he read remains unclear. Certainly Buddhist thinking offers more profound insight

ture or similar? Substitute for 2 nd hubcap plate 52 ? Or trees/fence plate 76 ?). He had mastered his visionary genius: like the most accom-

into his work than do such notions as “the southern gothic.” When Meatyard pictures children in an abandoned house, he is picturing life

plished of musicians, he could compose in any key. Indeed, he could and did invent new approaches to visual harmony in photogr aphy.

in death, the past present, both immanent in the moment. When he deliber ately displays a blurred figure, he represents mortality by

Throughout his life, Meatyard viewed himself as following in the tr adition of those he called “the earliest and most sincere workers of

dwelling not on decay, but on movement, animation, life. His shadowy walls marked with gr affiti (plate 58 ) or covered with newspapers

the camer a,”18 —Stieglitz, Weston, Str and—the tr adition of “str aight” photogr aphy. Meatyard made “str aight” photogr aphy a credo, but

from long ago (plate 55) bear witness to a host of long departed souls and forgotten events still present and perhaps meaningful, as

for him it represented not an aesthetic choice, so much as an obligation owed to the medium. Images might be out of focus, multiply-

history is always present and always rewritten. In all these ways Meatyard locates his photogr aphs not in frozen or in time-less moments,

exposed, blurred, but whatever the effect, it had to have been achieved in the camer a in the moments of exposure. Why? Because for

but in moments that implicate all of time. Every where in Meatyard humankind appears merged with nature, not separ ate from it. Buried

Meatyard the camer a was a theater in which he enacted his search for truth. The scene might be staged, filled with props; that did not

behind br anches and a dark pole, we see a man peeking out, his hands holding his place in the darkness (plate 40 ). A child lies in the shadow

matter. The moments of creation were moments of performance, and for Meatyard—as for Boleslavsky— they required the highest integ-

of a forked tree, her legs spread in imitation of the shadow (plate 10 ). Nature appears as a cold, powerful fact. Meatyard’s skies are white voids uncluttered with clouds. A spire may hint at piercing the firmament, but only hint (plate 77 ). The forest appears complex, perhaps

impenetr able; Meatyard fills his fr ames with thickets of dark, criss-crossed br anches, creating a view of nature as intriguing and fearsome as the Le Carceri of Pir anesi’s imagination. (switch Rizzoli 106 for plate 29) In an optical tour de force like plate 34 , Meatyard turns an

rity. Only that integrity of intention, that connection with “believability,” could achieve full artistic freedom. And freedom of vision is what Meatyard sought. It is the claim he makes for the breakthrough he felt he had made in No-Focus: “It is an art of visual acrobatics which result in acrobatic emotions and misgivings.”19 Like a Socr ates, Meatyard harries us with insistent questions in his search for truth, r aising doubts and misgivings r ather than offering assur ances. In the end, for Meatyard, the sanctity of “str aight” photogr aphy

innocent garden path into an unsettling vortex of possibility. 14 Is this the way through Alice’s r abbit hole 15 ? A portal to another imag-

contains and resolves these perceptual acrobatics. We are left with powerful works of imagination which suggest that, as in

ined world? It is emphatically a photogr aph whose formal design invites viewers to ponder its meaning. Meatyard developed no code, no

Poe’s “Purloined Letter” or in Maeterlinck’s L’Oiseau bleu, both the dream and the fact of truth lie before us, available in plain sight.


Page 27

Untitled [Zen Twig], 1963

Page 26

Untitled [No-Focus: three figures with dark band on right edge], 1963


Page 29

Untitled [Zen Twig], 1959

Page 28

Untitled (No-Focus), 1959


Untitled [Zen Twig], 1963

Page 30

Page 31

No-Focus #2 [Figures], 1960


Page 33

Untitled [Zen Twig], 1960

Page 32

Untitled [No-Focus: three figures]], 1960


WALKER EVANS

A CRONOLOGY FROM 1930 UNTIL 1980

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– An American photographer, Walker Evans (1903-1975) was best known for his photographs of American life between the world wars. Everyday objects and people-the urban and rural poor, abandoned buildings, storefronts, street signs, and the like--are encapsulated in his laconic images of the 1930s and 1940s. Walker Evans was born in St. Louis, Missouri, on November 3, 1903. His family moved to Toledo, Ohio, shortly after his birth but eventually settled in Kenilworth, Illinois, a well-to-do suburb of Chicago, where his father worked as a successful member of an advertising firm. Walker attended several private schools, graduating in 1922 from Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts, with the ambition to become a writer. He attended Williams College but dropped out after his freshman year. With an allowance from his father, Evans in 1926 moved to Paris, along with other hopeful American expatriot writers bent on absorbing the artistic and intellectual climate of avant-garde postwar Europe. Yet, in Evans’ own words, “I wanted so much to write that I couldn’t write a word.” Back in the United States in 1928 he turned to photography and instantly felt at home in that medium. Entering the active field of American photography at the end of the 1920s, Evans was confronted with the two dominant modes of the moment, the “artistic” posture of Alfred Stieglitz and what Evans considered the blatantly “commercial” approach of Edward Steichen, both positions rejected by Evans in favor of, in his own words, “the elevated expression, the literate, authoritative, and transcendant statement which a photograph allows.” In other words, he looked for something more than the esthetic or the commercial aspects of photography. He aimed for visual statements alluding to stories and values beyond the literal or the artistic.

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During the early years of his career he supported himself with an assortment of jobs in New York City, where he became friends with several men who were themselves to become distinguished writers. For example, Hart Crane, a friend, published Evans’ first work in The Bridge (1930). In 1931 the photographer worked with the critic Lincoln Kirstein, who published some of Evans’ work in Hound and Horn, an avant garde magazine covering modernist thought and art around 1930.

The first exhibition of the photographer’s production was at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York in 1932, and during the following year many of his pictures were used to illustrate The Crime of Cuba, Carleton Beal’s study of social conditions in Cuba. From 1935 to 1937 Evans worked with a group of sociologists and photographers in a study of poverty in the United States during the Great Depression sponsored by the Farm Security Administration (FSA). This mid-to-late 1930s period was the most productive and photographically successful time of his life. The quality of Evans’ work gained wide recognition in 1938 with an exhibition in New York City’s Museum of Modern Art and publication of American Photographs, an important book on the history of photography. In an introductory essay, Lincoln Kirstein characterized American photography in general and Walker Evans’ work in particular when he wrote in this 1938 publication that “the use of the visual arts to show us our own moral and economic situation has almost completely fallen into the hands of the photographer ... and [Walker Evans’) pictures with all their clear, hideous and beautiful detail, their open insanity and pitiful grandeur, [is a] vision of a continent as it is, not as it might be or as it was.” On leave from FSA in 1936 Evans collaborated with James Agee on assignment from Fortune magazine in a study of the life of Southern sharecroppers. Let Us Now Praise Famous Men (1941) was seen in the later decades as one of the best of the crop of social commentaries of the period. From 1945 until 1965 Evans was an associate editor of Fortune, and from 1965 until his death in 1975 he taught a course at Yale University, which he called “Seeing.” Walker Evans’ work is impossible to categorize neatly; it has little of the meticulous composition of the formalist, none of the literary quality of the photographic storyteller, and exhibits no signs of the noisy punch of the photojournalist. His subjects, seen generally from eye level, have the uncontaminated, clear vision of an observant youngster, a Huck Finn perception of America in the 1930s. His work implies the complex of values, judgments, hopes, and fantasies that brought the particular subject into existence.


1936

ROADSIDE STORE BETWEEN TUSCALOSA AND GREENSBORO ALABAMA

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He thought of photography as a way of preserving segments out of time itself. Nothing was to be imposed on experience; the truth was to be discovered, not constructed.

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1936

POST OFFICE SPROTT, ALABAMA WALKER EVANS

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There was a kind of photography that was so plain and common, so free of personal handwriting, that it seemed almost the antithesis of art: the kind of photography that was seen in newspapers and newsreels, on picture postcards, and in the windows of real-estate dealers. Perhaps this blunt and simple vocabulary could be used with intelligence, precise intention, and coherence: with style. ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

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1903

TO

1936

1903

1934

Born Walker Evans III on November 3, 1903, to Walker Evans Jr. and Jessie Beach Crane in St. Louis, Missouri. They move early to Kenilworth, a suburb of Chicago, and later to Toledo, Ohio. His father works for an advertising agency, of which Evans recalls, “Advertising was just becoming an American profession.” He attends high school in Toledo, at Loomis Chaffee in Connecticut, Mercersburg Academy in Pennsylvania, Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts.

Evans receives his first commission from Fortune magazine, a photo essay on the Communist Party. He travels on assignment to Florida where he becomes interested in the roadside scenes. His photographs from Cuba are honored by the American Institute of Graphic Arts.

1922 - 1926 In September 1922, Evans enrolls at Williams College, but drops out after only one year. While there he discovers his passion for reading and decides to be a writer himself. After leaving school, Evanslives with his mother in New York, his parents having separated while he was at boarding school. Evans takes a night job at the New York Public Library, because, as he stated, “I have loved books so much — I’m almost a pathological bibliophile — and I was drawn to it.” There he meets photographer Hanns Skolle (1903-1988), with whom he later shares a studio.

1926 - 1927 At age twenty-two, Evans sails to Paris and attends school at the Sorbonne, funded by his father and chaperoned by his mother for the first few months. Paris is more of a literary adventure for him; heonly dabbles in photography as a self-taught amateur.

1927 Evans begins photographing in New York City, sharing a studio with Skolle. This is the first time he considers photography seriously.

1929 Evans meets Lincoln Kirstein, then an undergraduate at Harvard and editor of their literary magazine Hound & Horn, who introduces Evans to an American style of photography in the work of Mathew Brady and Lewis Hine. They remain life-long friends. While living in Brooklyn, Evans photographs the Brooklyn Bridge, and abandons the skyscraper for what he calls “archaic architecture” and street photography.

1934 Notes in the Walker Evans Archive list the subjects Evans wishes to photograph for Fortune: “people, all classes, surrounded by the new down-and-out, automobiles and the automobile landscape, architecture, American urban taste, commerce, small scale, large scale, the city-street atmosphere, the street smell, the hateful stuff, women’s clubs, fake culture, bad education, religion in decay. The movies. Evidence of what people of the city read, eat, see for amusement, do for relaxation and not get it. Sex. Advertising.”

1935 He makes approximately 500 photographs for African Negro Art while working as a staff photographer at the Museum of Modern Art. With a commission from Gifford Cochran, Evans moves to New Orleans to illustrate a book about southern antebellum architecture. Here he meets and dates artist Jane Smith Ninas; they later travel together. Evans travels much of the south and central United States. He dates many women along the way.

1935 Evans works for the government’s Resettlement Agency (RA), later know as the Farm Security Administration (FSA). Under the direction of Roy Stryker, the RA/FSA photographers (Dorothea Lange, Arthur Rothstein, and Ben Shahn, among others) were assigned to document small-town life and demonstrate how the federal government was attempting to improve the rural communities during the Depression. Together they produce over 270,000 photographs. By the end of the year he is using a Deardorff 8x10 provided by the government.

1936

He rents a house in Darien, Connecticut in the spring for a summer of gardening. Photographs local baseball games and makes studies of flowers against a plain backdrop

Evans continues to work in the south for the FSA. With writer James Agee, Evans is given a three-week leave from the FSA for a Fortune assignment that documents the lives of southern tenant farmers. They look for a single family to serve as a model about the conditions during the Depression. Due to the raw content of the images, Fortune does not publish the material and instead Agee and Evans publish a book Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. These photographs define his career.

1930

1937

1929

Three of Evans’ images illustrate Hart Crane’s poem, The Bridge, published by the Black Sun Press in Paris.

1930 Meets Berenice Abbott, who is influential in Evans’ developing interest in photography. Kirstein helps him get his first exhibition at the Harvard Society of Contemporary Arts. Evans publishes in Architectural Review, Creative Arts, and Kirstein’s magazine Hound & Horn.

1931 Evans begins photographing Victorian architecture and moves to a large-format camera. He exhibits with Eugene Atget, Margaret Bourke-White, and Ralph Steiner at the John Becker Gallery.

1932 Evans sails to Tahiti as the photographer for a private yacht. He uses a small hand-held, a large-format camera, and for the first time, a movie camera. He exhibits with George Platt Lynes at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York.

1933 Evans spends about two weeks in Havana, Cuba, taking photographs for the book The Crime of Cuba by Carleton Beals. While there, Evans meets Ernest Hemingway and they become friends. The Museum of Modern art exhibits his series of Victorian houses, which circulates to other venues until 1940. This is the first one-man photographic exhibition by a major museum.

Evans’ relationship with the FSA slowly disintegrates. He photographs victims of Mississippi River flooding. His work is included in the Museum of Modern Art exhibitionPhotography: 1837-1937.

1938 The Museum of Modern Art mounts Walker Evans: American Photographs and publishes a book of the same title. Evans begins a series of New York subway portraits using a concealed 35mm camera, completed in 1941. He applies for a Guggenheim Fellowship. Denied at first, he is awarded a grant in 1940, using it to continue work on the subway series.

1939 Evans is included in the Museum of Modern Art exhibition,Art in Our Time. Evans makes his first visit to the Lyme area, arranging to meet Jane Smith Ninas who is staying with the Voorhees family on Grassy Hill Road. He begins to frequent the area, building a studio adjacent to the Voorhees house in the 1940s.

1941 Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, Evans’ collaboration with James Agee, is finally published. Evans marries Jane Smith Ninas. In the summer, as the U.S. began arming itself for war, Evans is commissioned by Fortune to photograph the munitions plants in Bridgeport, resulting in his first major portfolio for Fortune: “Bridgeport’s War Factories.” While there he also photographed patriotic marches and New England city scenes.

1936

TUSCALOSOSA WRECKING COMPANY ALABAMA

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With the camera, it’s all or nothing. You either get what you’re after at once, or what you do has to be worthless. I don’t think the essence of photography has the hand in it so much. The essence is done very quietly with a flash of the mind, and with a machine. I think that photography is editing after the taking.

Most people would look at those things and say, “Well, that’s nothing. What did you do that for? That’s just a wreck of a car or a wreck of a man. That’s nothing. That isn’t art.” They don’t say that anymore.

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The Museum of Modern Art exhibits Evans’ subway series, which is also published that year in Many Are Called. Eakins Press publishes Message from the Interior. The Robert Schoelkopf Gallery in New York exhibits forty prints.

1943-1945

1956

Evans works for Time magazine, reviewing books, art and cinema. He uses his smaller 2 1/4 x 2 1/4 and 35mm cameras more frequently. In 1945, he becomes a full-time staff photographer for Fortune magazine.

Evans visits London doing a project on English sports forSports Illustrated. He photographs golf at St. Andrews and the Henley Royal Regatta in Cambridge.

1958 1946 Sent to the midwest by Fortune, Evans produces “Chicago: A Camera Exploration.” In Detroit, he shoots “The Rebirth of Ford” and again resorts to surreptitious portraiture for the Fortune portfolio, “Labor Anonymous.”

Architectural Forum publishes “Color Accidents,” consisting of six color studies of paint-flaked walls. Evans says his inspiration came from Paul Klee and Jackson Pollock. Photos from his sea voyage to England are published in Architectural Forum’s, “Ships, Shapes and Shadows.”

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1959

The Art Institute of Chicago hangs a retrospective exhibition of Evans’ work.

Evans receives his second Guggenheim Fellowship. His project is a vague book of pictures of America. Evans later recalled, “It often happens that a Guggenheim just saves somebody’s life; it doesn’t subsidize it.”

1948 Evans continues working for Fortune magazine, but as the Special Photographic Editor, until 1965. He is particularly pleased that he does not have to answer to the art department and instead has the freedom to execute his own ideas.

1950 Fortune publishes Evans’ portfolio “Along the Right of Way,” an experiment in color photography shot from the windows of trains. Only seven images appear in the magazine, even though Evans shoots well over one hundred photos, typical of his working methods.

1955 In a Fortune essay entitled “The Beauties of the Common Tool,” accompanied by five photographs of tools, Evans writes: “Among low-priced, factory-produced goods none is so appealing to the senses as the ordinary hand tool.” Evans helps photographer Robert Frank with his project The Americans. His old friend James Agee dies, and Evans divorces Jane Smith Ninas.

1960 Evans meets the photographer Diane Arbus and they share ideas with one another about anonymous portraiture. Houghton Mifflin publishes the second edition of Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, for which Evans significantly edits the photo layout. Evans marries his second wife, a young Swiss woman named Isabelle von Steiger.

1962 The Museum of Modern Art publishes a second edition ofAmerican Photographs. A third edition appears in 1975 and a 50th anniversary edition in 1989. “The Auto Junkyard,” photographed on Grassy Hill Road in Lyme, Connecticut, is published in Fortune.

1964 Evans joins the faculty at Yale University’s School of Art and Architecture in the Graphic Design department, where he critiques student photographers’ work. He showcases his “Lyric Documentary,” calling it his “aesthetic autobiography.”

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I was doing such ordinary things that I could feel the difference.

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1972

Evans’ last portfolio for Fortune, “American Masonry,” is published including images of Connecticut stone walls. Over 250 images were shot for the spread.

Evans retires from his teaching job at Yale but continues his traveling workshops. He does an artist residency at Dartmouth College in New Hampshire. He undergoes surgery for a perforated ulcer while he is there.

1966 1973 Evans returns to his house in Lyme to recover. He divorces his second wife, Isabelle. Evans travels to Georgia with his newly acquired Polaroid SX-70. He also visits London and returns to Hale County.

1968 Evans receives an honorary degree from Williams College, where he had previously been a student, dropping out after only one year.

1969 Evans writes an essay for Quality, Its Image in the Artsproclaiming the vulgarity of color photography. He travels to Nova Scotia.

1971 The Museum of Modern Art mounts a major retrospective of two hundred images with a catalogue introduction by John Szarkowski, bringing a wide rediscovery of Evans’ work. Yale University Art Gallery exhibits signs and advertisements collected by Evans.

1974 Evans continues to travel, lecturing at many colleges including Oberlin, University of Texas, and Rhode Island School of Design. Though his health is deteriorating, Evans supervises the Double Elephant Press’s publication of a portfolio of fifteen gelatin silver prints. He produces nearly 2500 Polaroid prints.

1975 Evans sells his entire print collection to a dealer with an option for a later purchase of the negatives. On April 8th, Evans gives his last lecture at Radcliffe College. On April 10th he dies of a stroke at Yale New Haven Hospital. His will directs that no memorial service be held.

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Lack of sentimentality, originality, a lot of things that sound rather empty. I know what they mean. “Visual impact” may not mean much to anybody. I could point it out though. Coherence. I mean it’s a quality that something has or does not have. Well, some things are weak and some things are strong...


1936

SELMA ALABAMA BLOCH BROS. HARDWARE

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1936

MC INERNEYS STORE BUILDING VICKSBURG MISSISSIPPI

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1936

GAS STATION REEDSVILLE WEST VIRGINIA

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Nothing was to be imposed on experience; the truth was to be discovered, not constructed. It was a formulation that freed Evan’s intuitions, and saved him from too solicitous a concern for the purely plastic values that were of central importance to modern painters. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

1936

SIGNS SOUTH CAROLINA

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The photograph must describe the meaning of the subject with such simplicity that the result seems an unchallengeable fact, not merely the record of a photographer’s opinion; the picture itself should possess an inherent structure. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

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1936

WATERFRONT POOLROOMK CIGARS & SOFT DRINKS

NEW YORK

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The photographer must define his subject with an educated awareness of what it is and what it means. He wanted his work to be “authorita-tive, literate and transcendent.”

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1934

SHELL FOOD, FILLETS & WHOLESALE FISH FULTON MARKET AREA NEW YORK

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Stare. It is the way to educate your eye, and more. Stare, pry, listen, eavesdrop. Die knowing something. You are not here long. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

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