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ES SAY
THIS HEADLINE IS A PICTURE BY STEFFEN MICHELS parents’ wallets. Their purpose is not to remind us of something or someone the way a souvenir does; it is to entertain us and involve us in happenings otherwise non-accessible due to chronological or geographical conditions. They are temporary and largely disposable, something beautifully mirrored in their immaterial existence. Grains are forever, pixels are for now. And now quickly becomes later in an effort for social media not to become a one way street: Posting content is genuinely enjoyed by most but going through one’s newsfeed often seems tedious, even laborious. Forcing ourselves to ‘like’ our Instagram connections’ pictures before going to bed just to return the favour is a realistic scenario. Though our minds crave for stimulation, our brains are not capable of processing exuberant amounts of information. Image overflow in the digital sphere and stress in the physical world go hand in hand. Despite this, it is difficult not to participate and interact with the stream of imagery which so conveniently opens the doors to a mundane yet substantial human longing for attention. An extensive social media following is flattering, not to say admirable. ‘Likes’ are gestures of approval from someone we might not know and who might be at the other end of the world, yet they are saying ‘well done, you’. It is strange how this creates the illusion of being understood. We might even feel like there is some sort of mutual mindset or companionship between ourselves and the other user for having shared the experience of a ‘like’ or a ‘regram’. What should really strike us as fatal though is the possibility of receiving approval from strangers to a degree where a discourse with our direct, social environment is starting to feel secondary. It requires up to no skill taking a photo with our camera phones and embellishing it using filters. The very software itself imposes restrictions onto the outcome that render it increasingly simple getting easy-on-the-eyes results but very difficult for a unique style to develop and persevere. In terms of the techniques employed to create ephemeral shots destined to be scrolled past and forgotten about, it seems people lacking an informed approach to visual cul-
ture experience a new-found sense of accessibility and freedom. This subsequently helps setting up their ‘online selves’. The average person’s Facebook profile says a whole lot about them – and sometimes none of it is true. Users make an effort in constructing an online presence which is just a bit more successful, intelligent or better-looking than they are in person. We know so many tricks to manipulate our corporeal appearance and hide what troubles us inside; we now apply them to our digital selves. One could speculate that this is the first step of becoming super human and turning ourselves into data. A modern day Descartes would perhaps be well-advised to adjust his famous, philosophical proposition to the current state of the human experience in this world: ‘I upload, therefore I am’. Still physical or already digital, we are certainly not afraid to label ourselves. What is a hash tag other than a label? And what hash tag is more important than ‘#selfie’? The selfie has a special place in the young history of virtual image overflow. Every picture upload is an attempt at further establishing our position within this sphere where everyone is linked through shared content and the interchange of information. By making ourselves the subject matter, we signalize our willingness to temporarily be content that is up for discussion. We ask to be reassured of being a valuable member of this image-based social structure. Typically, we take time to figure out our best angles and pose to make ourselves look smaller, bigger, thinner, prettier, etc. The fact we are the photographers ourselves might imply simplicity and candour but it in fact attests to an extraordinarily great deal of subjectivity and artificiality. However, selfies should not be decried as such. Some stand out for reasons ranging from technical brilliance in regards to composition and colour to a charmingly comedic element. Analyzing selfies can reveal aspects of human nature. For instance, the desire to have your picture taken in famous locations and with celebrated artworks has never been more apparent than now that the picture-taking device is in our own hands. Posing with pieces of art already
has a tradition that sees visitors from all different backgrounds – including US rap artists Eminem and Diddy – flash a smile in front of da Vinci’s Mona Lisa at Paris’ Louvre while the Musée d’Orsay and London’s National Gallery have banned the selfie stick in an effort not to expose artworks and other visitors to unnecessary risks. On the other end of the spectrum of tolerance towards this new form of self-portraiture, money is to be made. The poster child of an ‘image celebrity’, Kim Kardashian West’s fame is essentially based on her appearance in pictures. Correspondingly, the starlet turned author is launching her first book Selfish, a collection of her best selfies to date, in corporation with famed publisher Rizzoli this May. The volume’s cover shows the reality TV star seductively pouting and peering at a point slightly above the lens, her wet hair sticking to her almost entirely exposed cleavage, covering it in water drops. The appeal of the book seems obvious. What is new, however, is the posture of Kardashian’s arms, reaching out to hold her phone. A person taking their own picture, no matter their appearance in it, can hardly be said to be denied agency over their own body, it appears. The actual act of taking selfies and other photos using iPhones has decidedly changed our relationship with the camera. It is simple, takes no time and the results are immediate. One could think using a camera phone does not entail using a device at all. It feels like it is a natural extension of the arm that enables us to capture our surroundings and ourselves and add the resulting documentation to the evergrowing image stream that is our online life. Effortlessly controllable technology incorporated into the body – another cornerstone on the way to superhuman existence. In an age of TV personalities selling books with renowned entities in the world of creative publishing, visual artists face a decisive challenge: Everyone can get involved in the constant exchange of pictures and the rules on what is deemed significant work have yet to be determined. Who is any one person to say the next user’s photos are less relevant than their own – especially if nothing seems too banal to share
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with your following? Photography, already highly democratized as a medium, needs to find new standards of sophistication. In 1960s America, it questioned existing forms of visual art and assisted with the birth of photorealistic painting which became the main oeuvre of Robert Bechtle, John Baeder, Richard Estes and others. Now, it finds itself in peril. Significantly, the potentially most dangerous menace to the medium is the 2015 version of itself. The world wide web, camera phones and apps have all contributed in liberalizing photography at the danger of dulling down our ability to distinguish the authentic and poignant from the superficial and trivial. Acting on the assumption of these thoughts being grossly applicable to how artists are influenced by this new era of visual culture, the very process of creation and the resulting aesthetics should be subject to radical transformation. The debate sparked by this revolves around questions of originality, collaboration, audience-finding as well as distribution of works of art. So where does the artist of the Google age stand? One way to create new stimuli is by means of re-contextualization. With her ongoing project Seat Assignment, American artist Nina Katchadourian is creating what can be described as artistic appropriations of a remarkably spontaneous character. Her selfies, taken on plane toilets during long distance flights, resemble 15th century Flemish portraiture and went viral on the internet in 2012. Always adorning herself with tissue paper and occasionally decking out the background with a scarf, Katchadourian took selfies that refer to more than just themselves: They are a comment on the very nature of portraiture without ever seeming to take themselves all too seriously. What makes her photographs striking is their utter dismissal of formality not preventing them from a very real resemblance to masterpieces of painting. Re-introducing us to the shapes, tones and facial expressions of a now distant era of artistic endeavors, they successfully modernize its semiotics. If a young generation is to grasp the uniqueness behind the removed glance of Flemish sitters who lived
centuries ago through Katchadourian’s semiserious toilet selfies for the first time, then so be it. Importantly, the snapshots provide original work with a new facet and place in history. Recontextualization, in this case, also means ‘rehistorization’. Maybe this is what makes us look at them in wonder and caused them to enjoy the kind of whirlwind popularity unknown before social media. By now, Seat Assignment comprises more than 2500 photos and video taken on approximately 150 flights. According to the artist’s website, ‘the photos were framed in faux-historical frames and hung on a deep red wall reminiscent of the painting galleries in museums like the Metropolitan Museum of Art’ at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery, New Zealand. The selfie, having started as a symbol of our profound desire to be looked at, debated, categorized and ultimately, to be consumed, has materialized only to confront us in a place reserved for the finest of achievements humans are capable of: art. Katchadourian’s impact, however, is of course still a far cry from previous efforts by other appropriative artists who have helped establishing the genre and as a result have become constant figures of artistic discourse. Since the notion of appropriation first appeared on the world stage in the early 20th century, endorsed by Pablo Picasso and Marcel Duchamp (who famously established the ready-made as a legitimate work of art), and subsequently became one of the most prevailing artistic departures of the 1980s in particular, many have attempted creating meaningful work around it. And more than a few have failed. Just when there seemed to be a need for a new impulse to prevent the genre becoming redundant and stereotypical, online imagery has helped it gaining new prominence. German photographer Thomas Ruff, known for his belonging to Bernd and Hilla Becher’s influential Düsseldorf School of Photography, was among the first to source images from the world wide web. Through various series, Ruff has explored different angles to view these pictures which could hardly be more diverse in terms of subject matter: ‘cassini’ and ‘m.a.r.s’ saw the artist
Seat Assignment, Nina Katchadourian https://www.google.es/search?q=Nina+Katchadourian&es_sm=119&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=GgkPVcy LAoj_UIThgeAL&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1688&bih=827#tbm=isch&q=Nina+Katchadourian+Seat+Assignment
Well, it could be. We only think of it as text because we recognize its components as letters in a specific relation to one another that conveys meaning. An understanding of the headline as text that carries a particular significance thus bestows a purpose upon it. Meaning indicates relevance, intent and hence, purpose. But what if we were to ignore this comprehension and think of the black lines and curves against the white background purely as visual phenomena? Surely, we could still interpret a fair degree of sense into these appearances of similar size and same colour. Yet, their overall nature would be much more abstract and a potentially indefinite amount of analytical approaches would render them eternally fluid: We could bend and twist them but they would disappear from our hands, eyes and mind and remain beyond our grasp after all. Pictures, more often than not, are chaotic. In Western mainstream culture of the 21st century, it appears everything is first and foremost about the way it looks rather than the way it feels, sounds, smells or tastes. Pop stars are a good example. Once celebrated solely on grounds of their artistic integrity, vocal range and ability to move the masses, they now form part of a system where their image – in the sense of picture – makes an equally important contribution to their success. Accordingly, many of them have become about the packaging as much as they are about the music. They might not always be pleasant to look at but they are shrill and exciting, ever-changing and hence relevant. A Google image search for Lady Gaga leaves little doubt of her status as an ‘image pop star’. Similarly, singer Beyoncé went out of her way to shoot a music video for each and every single song from her 2013 Visual Album. In line with these observations, food seems another aspect of life becoming an increasingly visual experience. It is perfectly normal finding a friend’s dinner or, more precisely, a photo of a friend’s dinner, on our Instagram feed and proclaiming ‘that looks so good’. Our thirst for imagery has led us to carry pictures with us at all times. These photos are different from the passport snapshot of a child carried around in their
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