Galleries

Andrew J. Russell. Hanging Rock, foot of Echo Canon.

Andrew J. Russell’s Great West Illustrated

NOTE: This post is part of a post I originally published on NJWV. I’ve changed the beginning to focus on just the Russell photographs here.

Andrew J. Russell. Carmichael's Cut, Granite Canon.
Carmichael’s Cut, Granite Canon
Andrew J. Russell. Skull Rock.
Skull Rock
Andrew J. Russell. Dial Rock, Red Buttes.
Dial Rock, Red Buttes
Andrew J. Russell. Snow and timber line, Laramie Mountains.
Snow and timber line, Laramie Mountains
Andrew J. Russell. Valley of the Great Laramie, from the mountains.
Valley of the Great Laramie, from the mountains
Andrew J. Russell. The wind mill at Laramie.
The wind mill at Laramie
Andrew J. Russell. On the mountains of Green River.
On the mountains of Green River
Andrew J. Russell. Castle Rock, Green River Valley.
Castle Rock, Green River Valley
Andrew J. Russell. Coal beds of Bear River.
Coal beds of Bear River
Andrew J. Russell. Hanging Rock, foot of Echo Canon.
Hanging Rock, foot of Echo Canon
Andrew J. Russell. Echo City, looking up Weber River.
Echo City, looking up Weber River
Andrew J. Russell. Salt Lake City, from the top of the Tabernacle.
Salt Lake City, from the top of the Tabernacle
Andrew J. Russell. Great Mormon Tabernacle.
Great Mormon Tabernacle

I spent some family time at the California State Railroad Museum last month and managed to escape long enough to check out the special photography exhibition they had on display. While the rest of the exhibition was interesting,* the highlight was being able to look through a full-size reproduction of Andrew J. Russell’s Great West Illustrated. As someone whose favorite photobook may be Mark Ruwedel’s Westward the Course of Empire, looking through, in many ways, an identical project documenting the landscape around a railroad’s construction, rather than its ruins, was great and pointed out a lot of details that were lost by the time Ruwedel did his project.

*Sort of covered on my own blog.

Much of the geography of railroading involves cutting through the landscape in order to keep a track graded correctly. These scars are prominent in Ruwedel as they’re the most-permanent landscape modification from railroading. I was unaware that they had names and seeing each cut given a special name in Russell’s album, gives a a more personal sense of things.

It’s not just a scar on the landscape. The cuts reflect a lot of manpower and effort and each one is unique. We no longer see the uniqueness since we’re looking at the absence of the railroad rather than marveling at its presence.

Russell’s photos also include a number of references to coal beds and even a town called Coalville. This is something else that is easy to forget. Railroads are inherently tied to the natural resources they need to consume in order to run. Especially when building them in a place without any existing railroads for transport.

That the photos include a lot of the infrastructure required to support the railroads shows that it’s not just about the achievement of laying the track, this is about development and taming nature.

It’s this intersection of development and nature which really puts Russell’s photos into the tradition of people like Timothy O’Sullivan and Carleton Watkins who are credited with defining much of the way we view the American West. When Russell isn’t showing how the railroad infrastructure is conquering the landscape, he’s showing us photos of the incredible views and wide open spaces available for people to move into. This is a land of opportunity, a land of growth, a land of potential.

There’s also a completely different scale to the landscape in the West. Almost all of the photos include a human figure in the image. Some of this may be to hammer the “we’re here and can conquer this” point. But a lot of it is also just to provide scale. The landscape is huge.

But it’s settleable. Russell ends his journey in Salt Lake City with images that show a legitimate city nestled in the mountains. There’s also some curiosity about the Mormons, but it’s very clear that we can live in the West. And the railroads can take us there.

Besides the history side of things, I like a lot of the photos as photos even though all I had available to look at was a laminated digital print from a copy of the albumen print in the book. It’s not enough for him to just photograph the distinct landscape elements, I like his compositions and the way he’s able to situate so many of them in the landscape. I especially like the Hanging Rock photo and the way he’s used it to frame the settlement below it. Makes me wonder how much it would cost to buy a real print from the Oakland Museum.

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

The photographs in Haunted Air provide an extraordinary glimpse into the traditions of this macabre festival from ages past, and form an important document of photographic history. These are the pictures of the dead: family portraits, mementos of the treasured, now unrecognizable, and others.

David Lynch

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Haunted Air

Another through the tumblr wires. In this case, while these are indeed striking images from a historical point of view,* it’s really the portraiture point view which is more interesting to me here. Being a parent has reminded my of how important Halloween costumes are to us when we’re little. These are all family portraits which function as portraits despite, and because of, their uncanniness. The masks don’t hide anything. They never hide anything.

*Before Halloween became dominated by slickly-manufactured costumes and merchandising tie ins.

I don’t have much more to add which isn’t already covered by @kukkurovaca’s writing on Meatyard and hope that this post encourages him to migrate some of those over to this blog.

Mishka Henner. Coronado Feeders, Dalhart, Texas.

Mishka Henner

Duchamp was about changing the way we think of art, and how we look at the world. In using pictures taken by robots, other photographers might think of me as a joke, but Duchamp faced that all his life—it makes me think I am doing something right.

Mishka Henner

Mishka Henner. Natural Butte Oil Field in Utah.
Natural Butte Oil Field in Utah
Mishka Henner. Coronado Feeders, Dalhart, Texas.
Coronado Feeders, Dalhart, Texas
Mishka Henner. Levelland and Slaughter Oil Field.
Levelland and Slaughter Oil Field
Mishka Henner. Tascosa Feedyard, Texas.
Tascosa Feedyard, Texas
Mishka Henner. Levelland and Slaughter Oil Field
Levelland and Slaughter Oil Field
Mishka Henner. Randall County Feedyard, Amarillo, Texas
Randall County Feedyard, Amarillo, Texas

I really liked what Ed Ruscha said once, that all he wanted to do was photograph the facts. He just wanted to see if it was possible, with his gasoline stations and parking lots and all the rest of it.

Mishka Henner

I’ve found that quite a few of my projects have revealed a lot of the assumptions and judgements that a section of the photo community continues to take for granted about documentary. It really doesn’t have to be like that. There’s so much more scope for pushing the boundaries of what documentary can be.

Mishka Henner

Because I’ve been pumping my fist a little too much with each successive interview with Mishka Henner recently. I really like what he’s doing—both in his methods of approaching the overwhelming amount of robot photography out there as well as what he’s chosen to say with it. He’s going directly at the “what is art” question in a way which forces everyone to question their assumptions about the medium. Why do we think what’s “good” is good? What do we expect from certain genres? Are our sacred cows truly sacrosanct? We need voices and visions like his.

The Oil Fields and Feed Lots projects in particular speak to me. Partially because I like photography from space and the way patterns emerge from both nature and human impact. But also because of the scale of consumption that they present. It’s one thing to see close-up shots of the way our mass-comsumption industry had perverted nature. It’s another to see a satellite view and realize exactly how big the impacted area is.

That these photos are indeed illegal to take despite being freely available via satellite* adds that extra level of trickster fun which takes these from being just about the story of consumption to also including how these are big business—with tentacles into the government and a vested interest in our remaining ignorant of what they show.

*Reminding everyone what happened to George Steinmetz.

This is documentary photography which is about more than just what’s in the photos. Henner’s widening the frame to include the photographer and the editor and even the viewer as well.

Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 6

Incidents. Henry Wessel.

Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 5
Incidents No. 5
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 6
Incidents No. 6
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 8
Incidents No. 8
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 13
Incidents No. 13
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 14
Incidents No. 14
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 16
Incidents No. 16
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 25
Incidents No. 25
Henry Wessel. Incidents No. 26
Incidents No. 26

Came across these on tumblr and clicked through to the gallery page. I really like Henry Wessel. I’m not sure exactly why though. It’s not just specific details, his compositions work in ways that I’m not sure can be taught so I just look at all of them and try to absorb what I see.

I also really like how so many of these look to be taken out of moving vehicles—often incorporating the vehicle itself as part of the image. I see all kinds of potential photos while I’m driving but getting everything to work together when doing that is near impossible.

Arthur Tress, Untitled (Coit Tower), 1964

Arthur Tress, San Francisco

In hindsight, we know that Arthur is a talented artist. But in 1964, he was a young man fresh out of school.

James A. Ganz

Arthur Tress, Untitled (Ocean Beach), 1964
Untitled (Ocean Beach), 1964
Arthur Tress, Untitled (City Hall), 1964
Untitled (City Hall), 1964
Arthur Tress, Untitled (Coit Tower), 1964
Untitled (Coit Tower), 1964

Still upset I missed this at the DeYoung. It was nice to be reminded of these when they surfaced again on Lens Blog. When I first saw the information on the show, it felt like a local-interest show. Reading it in the Times, the extra framing of it as sorta-juvenalia of a young artist finding his voice makes it a more interesting presentation to me.

It’s also of course interesting to see it framed as capturing weird San Francisco before it goes extinct but that’s a post for another blog.