Arles 2009: 40 years and Nan Goldin

© Nan Goldin I have finally managed to sit down and collect my thoughts about this year's Rencontres d’Arles festival. For Arles’ 40th anniversary, I decided to try and cover the festival in some detail. In this post I will be giving my overall impressions and in the next few days I will follow up with reviews of the exhibitions that I considered to be highlights.

DelpireWhen it comes to festivals, I have always found that birthdays tend to be mixed affairs (in fairness 40th birthdays have never been easy for anyone). Paying tribute to 40 years of photography while still looking to the future (or at least to the ‘now’) is no small task. Given the mandatory set of exhibitions celebrating Arles glorious past (a tender look at the extraordinarily prolific career of the French publisher and curator, Robert Delpire; an exhibition of new work by Lucien Clergue, an Arlésien photographer and one of the founders of the Rencontres; a Duane Michals retrospective, including a lot of work which has been exhibited before at Arles; and a ‘photo-album’ show allowing the audience to take a nostalgic stroll through 40 years of the festival’s history), the choice of the guest curator was always going to have a big impact, perhaps even more so than in a ‘normal’ year.

Nan Goldin seemed like an interesting choice: despite her rise to fame she remains a prickly, startingly honest, both brutal and fragile creature who will charge straight at anything resembling ‘the establishment’. Having heard her speak several times during the festival (despite lots of official events, she did her rebellious image justice, showing up drunk or very late more than once), she knows her mind and speaks it. Goldin also knows what she likes when it comes to photography. Her 13 guests show her strong leaning towards what could be called a ‘photography of the intimate’: J.H. Engström, Leigh Ledare, Antoine d’Agata, Jim Goldberg, Jean-Christian Bourcart, Annelies Strba. This collection of exhibitions, Ça me touche (It touches me), bears its name well: it came through clearly that this was all work that touched Goldin “in some profound way.” This need to be touched seems to go beyond the work, as Goldin is very close to several of her guests (she referred to Engström and Bourcart’s families as her muses). With two projections of her own work (Sisters, Saints and Sybils and The Ballad of Sexual Dependency) and an exhibition of her personal collection, Goldin’s footprint was stamped forcefully on Arles 2009.

Leigh Ledare

Despite the honesty of her approach and choices, overall I was disappointed. I think Goldin has a real eye for the sincere and much of the work has an undeniable, visceral, emotional power. But, with 13 exhibitions in one massive warehouse space: massive prints of J.H. Engström’s newborn twins and their mother’s bloody placenta; Leigh Ledare’s mother fucking, fellating and stripping for her son’s camera; Antoine d’Agata caught in a 20-year Baconian cycle of drug and sex-addled self-destruction; Jean-Christian Bourcart’s distressing document of the lives of the inhabitants of the US’s poorest city (Camden, NJ); ending with Jim Goldberg’s experimentation with young runaways in San Francisco; can we really be expected to have any emotion left at all? Not all of the work explores the same difficult emotional terrain, but this difference gets diluted by the ‘full frontalness’ of these artists.

David Armstrong

There were a few misses (David Armstrong’s beautifully installed and completely forgettable images of young, pretty boys, Christine Fenzl’s worthy but incredibly bland documentation of street football, and Jack Pierson’s large folded photos of stuff that he walked past one day—incidentally Pierson’s ‘statement’ is a must-read), but individually most of the work on show here is interesting (in terms of its approach rather than photographically). Unfortunately, the impact of this work was diluted by the sheer quantity of it. Three exhibitions stood out for me: Anders Petersen’s dark, primitive, but dignified gaze at life on society’s edges, Marina Berio’s beautiful blow-up charcoal drawings of negative images and Lisa Ross’s exploration of the physical manifestations of faith in China’s Xinyiang province.

Marina Berio

Towards the end of the festival, I heard Goldin reveal some of her thinking on photography. She explained that for her, photography has almost entirely lost its integrity, that it is difficult to believe images anymore. Of those very few photographers that she still admires, most are dead, and the others she keeps close to her. And as for her own work, she says she no longer has any interest in still photographic images. She only exhibits in the form of projections and she is currently exploring new ideas which move even further away from still photograph. This could be interpreted as pushing the boundaries of photography, but in her case it feels more like she is turning her back on it. I think Goldin remains an interesting artist whose struggle with life continues to provoke her to make challenging and powerful work, but as the guest curator of a major photography festival like Arles, her vision felt too narrow.

Naoya Hatakeyama

My highlights of Arles 2009 (which I will come back to in more detail in further posts) tended to go against the Goldin grain: Naoya Hatakeyama’s Scales and Maquettes/Light, Magda Stanova’s intelligent commentary, Without Sanctuary’s harrowing exploration of the darkest side of ‘vernacular photography’ (if postcards of lynchings can still bear that label), and an event which wasn’t even on the official festival programme, Chambres d’échos, an exhibition of the Musée Reattu’s photography collection which succeeds in creating fascinating resonances from confronting different kinds of work in exhibition rooms set up as echo chambers.

You will probably remember that there was quite a lot of criticism in the blogosphere of this year’s NYPH (somebody still has to explain that ridiculous acronym to me) and I think it is worth remembering that these events are pretty difficult to pull off and the fact that they manage to happen at all is worth applauding. Even if I felt disappointment at some of the choices this year, Arles still manages to be a huge injection of photographic adrenaline in a way that feels festive and celebratory. On it’s 40th birthday Arles felt very much like it was in the middle of a mid-life crisis, but one with glimpses of a promising future.

Update: Further reading Jeffrey Ladd on Nan Goldin Evan Mirapaul on Arles '09

Gursky goes small

© Andreas Gursky Having just seen a Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibition of large format prints it feels like the world has been turned on its head this week. Andreas Gursky currently has a retrospective on at the Vancouver Art Gallery in which he is showing 70 prints in "a small format that has not been used by the artist since the early 1980s." From the godfather of super-size prints, this is worthy of note. I am curious to know what a small format means for Gursky though... is he scaling down to 40 x 50" or does he really mean small? I am generally not a fan of the large print as they are too often used to disguise uninteresting images behind monumentality, but with Gursky I can't help but wonder whether his imagery will work in small sizes. From looking at images on the web, I find that a number of them become illegible or confused at on-screen sizes. If anyone sees the show in Vancouver, I would be interested to hear your thoughts.

Further Reading: Horses Think Syndrome Stockholm

Review: Henri Cartier-Bresson @ MAM

© Henri Cartier-Bresson

HCB would have been 100 in 2008. For some reason his centenary is still being celebrated with two exhibitions which recently opened in Paris at the Maison Européene de la Photographie and today at the Musée d'Art Moderne (MAM). I was reminded of the Robert Frank exhibitions that were recently held in honour of the 50th anniversary of his seminal book, The Americans. I didn't see the exhibition at the NGA in Washington, Looking In, but judging by the catalogue this was a really impressive show in which the curators used this anniversary to take a fresh look at Frank's work for this series, uncovering new material and contributing a meaningful new perspective on the place of that series in photographic history. The exhibition that I saw at the Jeu de Paume was the polar opposite: it was essentially the book hung, in order, on the wall. There seemed to be no attempt to use this opportunity to do something different with the series, to uncover new details, present it in a new light, even develop a new scenography. As I walked around on the opening weekend with the hundreds of other people, waiting 2 or 3 minutes to see each image, this felt very much like an attempt to get as many people through the door with as little effort as possible.

Unfortunately, the current Cartier-Bresson mini-retrospective at the MAM, L'imaginaire d'après nature, falls into the latter category. The exhibition contains 69 large-format prints made in the 1970s, and donated to the museum in 1982 following two exhibitions of his photographs and drawings. This exhibition brings these donated prints out of storage after 27 years and I was curious to see what they would add to our understanding of HCB. Apparently one of the reasons why this is not "just another HCB exhibition" is that this is a unique opportunity to see appreciate his prints in a large format (they are around 50 x 70 cm, dry-mounted on board and unframed), and to "interact with the print as object", not just to appreciate the quality of his imagery in a small format behind a pane of glass. However, HCB didn't make the prints himself and I find that the images are not suited to these large formats. So maybe the value of the exhibition is in the choice of images, perhaps focusing on some lesser-known aspect of his work? The genius of HCB is indisputable, and many of these images still manage to retain their impact despite being so well-known, but while there are a handful of rarities, 95% of what is on show here has been seen everywhere and by everyone.

Seeing this exhibition at a National Museum of Modern Art in 1982 would have been a revelation and a bold statement on the place of photography within art. Seeing it today, it feels precisely like "just another Cartier-Bresson exhibition", and one which is attempting to cash in cheaply on an anniversary.

Rating: Worth looking elsewhere

Peter Funch: Babel Tales

© Peter Funch It seems like street photography has become deeply unpopular in some fine art photography circles. I don't fully agree with all of the negative arguments being put forward, but a brief search on flickr reveals just how much more-or-less technically proficient street photography with nothing to say is being made these days. With Babel Tales, Peter Funch, a Danish photographer based in NYC, plays around with the conventions of street photography to create a series of extraordinary 'snapshots'. These images all give the illusion of capturing the infamous 'decisive moment', but the moments in Babel Tales are all decisively fabricated. Funch stakes out the same street corners for days on end and then pieces together his images to create composites which feel like extraordinary one-off snapshots. Looks like street photography, smells like street photography...but is it street photography?

Is this really the future of photography?

Sam Irons The Creative Review blog has a post about LPA Futures, a competition designed to "find the next generation of commercial photographers." The prize: five young photographers get to have their careers "nurtured" by the Lisa Pritchard Agency. There are lots of these awards around these days for young photographers and god knows that they need it as it is certainly not getting any easier to earn a living from photography.

However, I have to say I find the prize-winning images on show here depressing. Individually they are technically proficient, and a couple I even found arresting, but what depresses me is that they could all easily have been taken by the same person (or maybe 1.5 people). I don't see any diversity in this group: they all have the same cold, detached approach to their subject, whether landscapes or portraits, and convey the requisite "contemporary" emptiness, which has become so omniscient. I even find the treatment of colour remarkably similar by four out of the five photographers here. If this prize really identifies the "next generation," then the clones are soon going to have their day. I am not aiming my criticims at any of these young photographers, and hope that they will all be nurtured by LPA to great success, but it would be pretty tragic if the future of photography was as homogenous as this.