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No answers from me either, but I'm wondering if the moral objections would vanish if, say, the photos were given away (as we poets mostly give our works away) or if they were displayed only and not for sale. Hal, who rarely knows what his own intentions are "I don't necessarily agree with everything I say." --Marshall McLuhan Halvard Johnson ================ [log in to unmask] [log in to unmask] http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard http://entropyandme.blogspot.com http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com http://www.hamiltonstone.org On Sep 16, 2006, at 11:58 AM, Mark Weiss wrote: > No answers from me, but I was trying to point to the perhaps > romantic concept of cost, as well as intention. > > Let's throw in the Kuleshov effect, about film but equally > applicable to photography. There's a good summary at http:// > en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuleshov_Effect. The Russian director > Kuleshov, shortly after the revolution, used a piece of pre- > existing film of a famous pre-revolutionary actor. He used it three > times, in three different contexts, and the critics praised the > emotive power of the actor, his emotional versatility. > > Mark > > At 11:44 AM 9/16/2006, you wrote: >> I found your whole post thoughtful & provocative of thought, Mark. >> And responses such as Fred's. >> >> I think you're absolutely right about the moral abysm of putting >> these up for sale. But as I try to track from photography to >> poetry, I'm a little unsure. Does just approaching certain >> subjects, or is it that the poet/poem can't help 'exploiting' it?, >> put it in a similar moral space? Or would it be in the use (again, >> perhaps to be called 'exploitation?) of documents? I am thinking >> of what I see as proper use, & one which strikes me as >> 'political': that of Susan Howe (for example; I know, I keep >> coming back to her work), which seems to me to be a highly 'moral' >> attempt to come to terms with historical violence manifest in >> various times & ways. >> >> We still see poetry as definitely a form of art; photography >> remains ambiguously on the border, sometimes in, sometimes out. >> Which does bring us back to your comments on intention, of both >> photographers & subjects, as well as just exactly what was the >> intention (beyond making money off them) of the curator here... >> >> Yeah: makes me think... >> >> Doug >> On 15-Sep-06, at 1:44 PM, Mark Weiss wrote: >> >>> Last night I went to an opening of a photography show at the >>> Steven Karsher Gallery in NY's Chelsea. Some of the issues it >>> raised for me resonate with recent discussions here. >>> >>> It was a show of mug shots from about 1930 to the mid 60s, >>> apparently discards from five or six midwestern police stations, >>> bought, and framed for exhibition. In maybe 3/4 of cases there >>> was no identifying documentation, but where there was the alleged >>> crimes were fairly petty--vagrancy, check kiting, unlawful >>> assembly, forgery of small-sum checks, shoplifting--and many had >>> not yet been tried, and a few had had their charges dropped. But >>> context made them all into hardened criminals. Most of the faces >>> betrayed no clearly-identifiable emotion (though a few appeared >>> mildly defiant and a few others looked terrified) during what >>> must have been among the most humiliating moments of their lives. >>> The photos, all by anonymous cops who weren't out to make art or >>> engage the sitters, were interesting largely because of hair and >>> clothing styles and the lurid context in which they were made. >>> The subjects appeared to be overwhelmingly working class or sub- >>> working class, people that the dressy crowd at the show would be >>> unlikely to notice. >>> >>> I was extremely uncomfortable. It was impossible not to query >>> these anonymous faces, but to what end? They had become art by >>> virtue of their placement on the walls of the gallery. No one had >>> asked their permission. In some cases the subjects were >>> presumably still alive, as they were young when their photos were >>> taken in the 60s. In the instances in which their names were >>> known no one had attempted to contact them or their heirs. It >>> seemed to me that they had been turned into freaks for our >>> delectation, that there had been an essential violation. >>> >>> I thought about my very different reactions to other shows of >>> unwitting subjects by anonymous photographers. Some years ago I >>> saw at the Los Angeles County Museum a show of photos taken for >>> bureaucratic record keeping just prior to the subjects' >>> executions by anonymous photographers, from childhood to extreme >>> old age, charged with no crimes, victims of Pol Pot's insanity >>> and the army of sociopaths he'd managed to assemble. They were >>> terrified, and eloquent. Last year the New York Historical >>> Society mounted an exhibition of lynching postcards--that's >>> right, they were commercially produced and sold like hotcakes >>> immediately after the events, to be sent to one's loved-ones. On >>> permanent display at the Holocaust Museum in Washington are >>> family pictures of 1500 people, all that's left of the 5000 >>> killed by the nazis in one stetl. In each case it was almost >>> unbearable being in the room with them. But I didn't feel the >>> queaziness that I felt last night. I think the setting, and the >>> motive, had a lot to do with my feelings. These were museum >>> shows, mounted for an explicitly political purpose, as an >>> indictment not of the subjects but of their killers, and a plea >>> fro remembrance and for such things never to happen again. Faint >>> hope of that, but one's moral position in their presence was >>> unambiguous and unambivalent--these people were being >>> appropriated, but it was hard to believe that they would have >>> objected to this shred of their humanity being preserved. And >>> they weren't for sale--the gallery was offering its wares for >>> between $500 and $700 for each of the 1x2 inch photos, and one >>> could also buy a copy of limited edition poster-sized blowups of >>> four of the shots, signed by the curator as if he was the artist, >>> at $500 a pop, suitable for hanging over one's expensive couch. >>> The worst moment of someone's life, perhaps, sold to the highest >>> bidder. Utter corruption, it seemed to me. The show was called >>> "Least Wanted." The irony of the photos being sold as luxury >>> items seemed to have been lost on those involved. >>> >>> I own a few anonymous portraits of anonymous subjects, tintypes >>> and daguerotypes that I've found at tag sales. Much of the >>> interest is historical nostalgia. I'm certainly violating >>> someone's space, but between me and the subject is a photographer >>> paid or persuaded to take the picture, with whom the subject is >>> collaborating--the image put forward is meant to be a shared image. >>> >>> Some of the pleasure of photo portraits is voyeuristic, >>> irreducibly so. The morality of photography is I think about >>> channeling that voyeurism by means of explicit intentionality, >>> and the judgement one makes is about what that intention may have >>> been. Belloq's portraits of Storeyville whores are so clearly the >>> product of a shared intentionality that they transcend the moral >>> qualms one would have expected to be present. >>> >>> When I expressed some of these thoughts to a friend at last >>> night's opening she asked me what I thought about Diane Arbus. >>> Arbus shot a wide range of subjects, but some of her best work, >>> and certainly her most famous, was portraits of freaks of one >>> kind or another. Her subjects knew what she was doing--they >>> consented to the portraits, usually shot in their homes. And >>> there was something else. Arbus, who as a young woman was movie- >>> star beautiful, seems to have thought of herself as a freak, and >>> in the portraits there's both a sense of identification and a >>> compassion that have been noted by critic after critic. Either >>> it's there or Arbus was able to fabricate it pretty convincingly. >>> The portraits appear to have cost her something, as did Belloq's. >>> The cost behind last night's mug shots was nonexistent for the >>> curator, who I think was right in a sense to sign his name to the >>> posters--he was the one who decided they were art, and he was the >>> one who would pocket the cash. As Carlos just told me, he was >>> signing a check to himself. >>> >>> Mark >>> >> Douglas Barbour >> 11655 - 72 Avenue NW >> Edmonton Ab T6G 0B9 >> (780) 436 3320 >> http://www.ualberta.ca/~dbarbour/ >> >> Latest book: Continuations (with Sheila E Murphy) >> http://www.uap.ualberta.ca/UAP.asp?LID=41&bookID=664 >> >> Where philosophy stops, poetry is impelled to begin. He was >> a man, far away from home, biting his nails at destiny. >> >> Susan Howe