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Miguel Rio Branco

There's quite a good photo book shop near Kings Cross, London, where I went hoping to find books by Bernard Plossu.

On the web, if you type in plossu.com you'll get a single page with two photos and the title: 'The Garden of Dust' (Le Jardin De Poussiere), and this is the book I thought myself fortunate to find in this little shop. But, from the first page, I was disappointed, and since this has been the case with almost all Plossu's books which I have actually seen for sale, I'm beginning to wonder if what I think he is is perhaps not what he is. There is something of the Parr in him, printing a zillion books, of which a select few hit the spot. I have not given in yet, a recent retrospective (Retrospective 1963-2006) looks promising as does that rare 'Le Voyage Mexicain 1965-1966'.

Anyway, after exclaiming too soon to the bookseller about what a great find 'the' book was, I was suddenly obligated to put my money where my mouth was. One look at the price tag, though, made me run for the nearest escape route. Despite my very particular tastes, I set about finding another book in the hopes that it would be sufficient an excuse to miss out on the Plossu.

After scouring the shelves from top to bottom, I came across a book, at a bargain price, by Miguel Rio Branco. I bought it without even asking for its plastic wrapper to be removed.

It was a new 1998 first edition, perhaps there were too many copies around and he had trouble selling it - I don't really know how these things work. It's an easy book to get hold of elsewhere too, it seems.

I'm not sure about the reproduction quality, I have a Gracielle Iturbide book, similarly printed by Aperture with the printing too contrasty for her images. Anyway, without adjacent reference, it makes not the slightest difference given the strength of the images themselves, and the book is nicely covered with canvas.

The book is a dark poetic vision, spiced with an intense and fleeting beauty. This is expressed aptly by David Levi Strauss's title to the forward: 'Beauty and the Beast, Right Between the Eyes', and indeed the book begins and ends with one of Branco's 'eyes' installations as shown in the attached images. There is something of 'Apocalypse Now' in its mood (the 'Jim Morrison' sacrifice scene at the end of the film, for example), vivid blood reds, and dark shadows, but in the book the mood is expanded on, more varied in its subtleties, slower to digest and at times uncomfortably jarring and violent.

I'm pleased to have the book. Its effect for me comes mostly from its amplified sensuality which is accentuated by being set within a saturated world of scars, violence and primal animal instinct. In that sense it is a rather sad book because though psychological and imaginary, simultaneously, it seems to reflect real individuals, real living and real suffering. It's a powerful book, perhaps turning a tad heavy, and I've probably had my fill with just this one book. Nevertheless, there are books that I want off my shelf, this isn't one of them.

To top it off, the afterword is written by Lélia Wanick Salgado and Sebastiao Salgado.


Pablo San Juan's Monsoon

Pablo San Juan's photos are buried away beneath the ever increasing pile of photographers found on Zone Zero.

As far as I am aware there are no books, no buzz, no fame no fortune, surrounding him, and I'm sure if current flavors of the month are anything to go by, there may be little surprise in that either. I'm glad it's that way, I'd hesitate to say anything myself if I were not so much in awe.

There are about 27 photos, if I have counted correctly, in this series all connected in one way or another to the theme and title: 'Monsoon'. At irregular intervals, perhaps attached to specific images, we're given a quote, for example this one:

"Little by little I feel sleep coming on, made drowsy by the sweet novelty with which the tropics receive their travelers before showing them the claws of their petrifying desperation." ~ Carlos Fuentas

If you've made it far enough to have read a quote, there is little point in me breaking it down further, you'd have to be a cold stone not to be then moved by San Juan's wind and rain, joy and sadness.

According to Nuria Enguita, who wrote the statement,

"Pablo San Juan travelled for three consecutive years in search of the living image of the monsoon, uniting within his photographs specific times and places and those already mentioned moments of a more abstract, more diffuse condition."

I'm reminded that it takes as long or longer to create, and luck may only allow half the coherence, half the poetry or music. Sadly Pablo's images may well be glanced over a thousand times by eyes that are attuned to the speed of change, the endless cycle of topicality and trends, or the obsession with originality. We don't need a biography, a statement by the photographer, nor an interview, it's all available there before your eyes in the images themselves.


Leopold and Mobutu - Guy Tillim

A while ago I visited the photographer's gallery and saw Guy Tillims pigment printed series, 'Leopold and Mobutu". I also bought the book of the same name. It's a tall washed out book of mixed color and black and white photographs compiling snippets of physical evidence of Mobutu's lost grandeur and King Leopold's great colonial land grab (spearheaded by his agent the explorer Henry Morton Stanley).

The preface of the book couldn't be written by a more authoritative man than Adam Hochschild whose short text summarises what he has covered in depth in his own book, King Leopold's Ghost - namely the extraction of ivory and, subsequently, wild rubber by means of a brutal system of forced labor, to feed a booming Western appetite (arising from advent of the bicycle tube and later the automobile).

While untold millions of Congolese (estimated to be 10 million!) died and Leopold is said to have generated todays equivalent of one billion dollars of profit, in modern times, Mobutu still managed to exceed Leopold's monetary feeding frenzy 4 times over in his 32 yrs. of rule.

Tillim's images string the past and present together: Stanley's barely discernible veranda overlooking the Congo river beside side Mobutu's looted and abandoned palace veranda, while in the foreground/present UN helicopters fly in and out and child soldiers train to kill.

Images of intense Graham Green-like atmosphere and masterful 'accidental' composition, particular to Tillim, fall between the dead scenes.

At a time when it feels more comfortable to forget about Africa - its heart draining lunacy swinging simultaneously with its seduction - Tillim manages to bring alive a neglected chunk of history, renewing the 'traditionional' 'Heart of Darkness' spirit and blending it with historical fact. It's a semi softcover book printed in subdued color and matt texture matching its content.

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Pieter Hugo and James

I really used to get heavy under the eyes with portrait photography. Then the portrait turned modern (contemporary...or whatever). Well what does that mean? I really am going to avoid talking about Avedon, I might just nod off (sorry)...... I guess, what I mean is, suddenly you get your subject standing in the middle of the frame, kind of like in a measured way, just standing there almost as though to say I am what I am, here I am. That's why I suppose I like Pieter Hugo's 'subdued' portraits besides the obvious nature man in his environment. It's refreshing for me not to see an old car, a signboard, street, a mundane sparsity or a weird over ambiguous 'meaningful' gesture.

honey

These images remind me of a guy I knew called James, last time I saw him he'd got into a drunken fight and lost two of his front teeth. James was not to bright, in the 'educated' sense of the word, i.e. he couldn't read nor write. He had trouble putting a three pronged plug into a wall socket, he spent an awful lot of time, in an HIV world, sleeping with prostitutes and anyone else available (consequently he found himself followed by a string of kids), and he spent every penny he earned the same day he received it. But he'd come from another world completely. Give him a panga (big chopping knife) and a thick branch and he would carve out the most delicate cooking spoon. He knew all about honey and bees and what fruit certain birds liked and what animal made such and such mark on the ground. He was, just, like so many Africans today, being crowded out by a world that has enforced western style education and lifestyle.


Looking for Storylines

I'm lookin through this bookshop and I see this book Storylines and it sounds just like what I like. I open it and I just don't know, quickly, without cheating and reading the whole thing in the shop, what the fck it's about. Robert Frank, why does Storylines sound like what I'm looking for, but I look in it and can't see what I thought I was looking for and I don't know what it's all about, so I'm not sure? So I go and look him up and I find this old article and read him say:

"'People want to know so much now,' ... 'All the time, this wanting to know. Where does it lead? Nowhere.' ... 'Pictures, huh?' ... 'We'll see, we'll see'."

But then, afterwards, I find Jack Kerouac talking and Robert Frank filming but it's Jack who infects me, long enough anyway, for me to out this post, weirdly.

Now I'm satisfied, I want out, it's not what I'm looking for, all this poetic decoration, so far away from the poetic plain speaking that photography is so good at, maybe.


Mohammed Amin (Mo)

Coming from a rather 'information sheltered' upbringing in Kenya, I was exposed rather late to the photographers who make it into the history of photography compilations. Those that I was exposed to, seem unremarkable in comparison. Their work mostly graced the coffee table, or the touristy section of the bookshop, with titles like, Beautiful Kenya, or Vanishing Africa (some of them awesome photographers in their own right).

One of these photographers, Mo (Mohamed Amin), made it really big though.

I remember him for two things, his pictures of sunsets - some that showed the sun so high in the sky that the scene could never have been so orange, as though he'd not been bothered to wait, and had thrown on an orange filter to get the effect - and for his images of "His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular."

idi_amin

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But neither of those are what made him big, big. In 1984 he hit the world stage with what might as well be one of the first links in the chain of starving people pictures.

Aidan Hartley in his absolutely ripping book 'Zanzibar Chest' (see images from the book here) writes:

"His greatest triumph was TV footage, voiced over by the BBC's Michael Buerk, of the first pictures to break the 1984 Ethiopian famine. Mo's pictures whipped up publicity, rock songs and concerts that raised funds for food that probably saved a further two million from hungry deaths. He may have seemed diffident but he was as conceited as hell and never let you forget about his fame

"Mo proudly showed me his office. Covering the walls were framed snaps of Mo with Bob Geldof, Queen Elizabeth giving Mo his MBE medal, Mo with Sidney Pointer, Mo with sundry Third world despots, honorary degrees, TV awards and a platinum disk of the song 'We are the world'."

In Africa one has to be able to face blood and guts. Facing the whimsical Idi Amin is likely to make you shake your head in disbelief, while expecting at any moment a sudden death sentence after a joke turned sour. The last scene in this quite long video shows the shifting paranoid eyes of this buffoon. Somewhere about midway, Mo is filmed together with Castro and Idi Amin together.

Mo had one major talent of many, he was always on the spot:

'He was no media cowboy, no thrill seeker.... he was brave and committed, and his genius was being there when it happened.' - Michael Buerk

He died in the hijacked Ethiopian Airlines Flight 96 crash (amateur footage from cnn), November 23, 1996.


Final resting place - paradise...

In 1998 Tacita Dean set out for the 'prim tax haven', Cayman Brac, a Caribbean island, in search of Donald Crowhurst's trimaran, the Teignmouth Electron. The Cayman net news outlines its history prior to Dean's journey as follows:

"After Crowhurst's suicide, the Electron was taken by salvagers to Jamaica and bought from auction in 1969 by Kingston hotelier and businessman Larry Wirth.

The Electron stayed in the Wirth family until 1973, when she was purchased by Bunnie Francis, a charter operator based at Trelawny Beach Hotel, near Montego Bay. Francis adapted and operated it as a tourist boat.

By 1978, the Jamaican tourist trade had been hit by political unrest and the boat lay in dry dock up for sale. It was purchased by George McDermot, who was living in Jamaica at the time, in 1975. He later sold her to his brother Winston."

During Winston's ownership, when Ms Dean arrived. she found the yacht lying battered and weathered upon a beach, shadowed by a solitary palm, and looking, perhaps, like the washed up bones of Crowhurst himself. She filmed and photographed the wreckage, drawing on Crowhurst's loneliness, his manic time madness, his 'Sin of Concealment', his final countdown.

While on the island she also filmed another of her, particularly quirky, coincidental discoveries, the ruined 'Bubble House'? built by a Frenchman who was imprisoned for fraud and therefore unable to finish it; Dean writes:

"Deserted, and half-completed, the bubble house stood like a futuristic vision; like a statement from another age. We thought it was a temple belonging to a sect, or a church constructed by the Mafia. We knew we had come across something other-worldly; the perfect companion to the Teignmouth Electron."

To me her Teignmouth Electron work is an exotic memorial, if you like, to madness, folly and failure, as expressed in the Crowhurst tragedy.

One must know Crowhurst's story to fully appreciate Dean's work and if the story does catch you, like it did me, the essential viewing should be the documentary film 'Deep Water' directed by Louis Osmond and Jerry Rothwell.

While this film tells almost all there is to know - making, too, an interesting parallel with Bernard Moitessier who in contrast both mastered the sea, and more importantly, himself, while forfeiting the possible glory and media heroism of winning the race, to 'save his soul' - the essence of Deans exotic bone sifting archeology, besides the artified journalism, is her tangential personal journey to the island and her driftings through the works of JG Ballard and Antoine de Saint-Exupry, in search of the unknowable truth behind Crowhurst's predicament.

Sources:

Tacita Dean Synopsis

Brac's Land wreck makes TV fame


Hearts of darkness

Probably it was when a friend gave me a book of stories by Flannery O'Connor that my imagination was invaded by the cocktail of religion, sex, death, loneliness, hopefulness and hopelessness, beauty and criminality that generally appear to make up certain inner recesses of the southern US imagination. I read Poachers stories, by Tom Franklin and Truman Capotes "In Cold Blood", I've recently watched the documentary 'Searching For The Wrong-Eyed Jesus', we all know Shelby Lee Adams (You've got to check out his blog) and there's the poetic "Sleeping by the Mississippi" by Alec Soth (look for the articles and related footnotes at the end of the slideshow).


Timothy O'Sullivan

For Timothy O'Sullivan reality was more than the literal, direct and 'physical' reflection of the world. Truth, was simple and direct, but came from small adjustments in the literal reality that brought into play the subjective. His camera portrayed the way a place seemed rather than how it actually was.

O'Sullivan learn't his technique from documenting the American civil war. Cameras of the period could not catch the action, as they do today, and this fact forced him to build a reality of war from mundane scenes that stood around the action; the context of war.

Later in 1871 O'Sullivan joined the United States Geographical Surveys West of the One Hundredth Meridian led by Lt. George Wheeler. The purpose was to survey the land for possible future occupation, while also gaining a consensus of the Native American population. His photographs were to be used to prepare the 'Wild' West as an inviting destination for progress, not only for the sake of civilization, but for the continued funding of the surveys.

Leaders of the surveys such as King, Lt. George M. Wheeler, and J.W. Powell tended to use the beautiful, picturesque, and sublime ideologies in writing their survey reports, and hence their hired photographers usually resorted to them as well. But O'Sullivan was unique. While fulfilling the requirements of the survey he was also able to pursue his own instinct for truth and art using devices he had learnt during the civil war.

Though he photographed completely without public acclaim during his life time, he is now renowned for his ability to amplify the telluric beauty of the geological Western American landscape by means of very simple but understated techniques. For example, the top photograph in the accompanying strip of images, depicts Canyon De Chelly, New Mexico, 1873, and shows how he ever-so-slightly tilts the camera's angle to exaggerate the great towering rocks height and weight over the tiny encampment below in the valley.

Jonathan Green in "American Photography" presents Timothy O'Sullivan as something of a photographic renegade. Unlike Muybridge, for example, who added clouds to his picturesque scenic images by using his 'Sky Shade'(1) technique, O'Sullivan seems to accept the limitations of his medium. He exploited, instead, the starkness arising from the wet collodion processes lack of sensitivity to blue, by sometimes integrating the white sky into a series of balanced shades and planes of the geology creating an almost abstract image (image 2).

If there is an answer to endless question: what is reality, surely here we have it in O'Sullivan's images, and as valid today as it was then.

In Elizabeth Paul's words:

"His approach accepts the limitations of subjectivity and photography to discern and portray the whole truth or reality of a subject, and seeks, instead, to gain and portray an impression of the subject truthfully, accurately, and effectively." ~ see her excellent thesis on the subject

(1) Muybridge solved the problem using two different methods:

a - He combined a negative of clouds with a negative of a landscape, when making a print.

b - Muybridge also used a board flap inside his camera to block the brighter light from the sky during a portion of an exposure. He called the feature a sky shade.


3 states of mind

David Goldblatt's, 'South Africa - The Structure of Things Then', published in 1998, is about homes, shops, churches, memorials, ruins, anything that resembles a structure in South Africa, and is illustrated with the clarity of a large format camera and a thinking eye. A considerable caption is attached to each image and through it we compile a mental picture of the roots and ideological structures of Apartheid South Africa as expressed through the architecture.

But by describing the subjective mental states of the Volk (Afrikaners, chosen by God) as manifest in their buildings Goldblatt steps himself out on a subjective limb. Most notably, he discovers a 3-stage change in the architectural design of the Afrikaner protestant churches beginning with the decorative and graceful eloquence of the Gothic churches of the late 19th century, through the powerful dominating, radically vertical and triangulated churches of the late 1940's to 60's, and into the enclosed womb like churches of the 1970's and 80's.

Goldblatt suggests these stages mirror the gradual growth of confidence and rootedness of the Volk, peaking after the 1948 victory of the National Party; defenders of "Christian National values against Atheism, communism, liberalism, humanism and racial miscegenation".

The 50's and 60's where periods of huge power, dominated by fiercely skyward architecture, an Afrikaner renaissance, if you like. But as the system of Apartheid gradually came under attack, through the 70's, 80's and 90's, the churches became more inward looking, withdrawn, allowing only, for example, a minimal number of small windows opening to a hostile world, comfortably cocooning the Volk among their own company.

Though Goldblatt finds little corroboration among the church architects who, perhaps, built according to accepted requirements of the time without full awareness of any parallels in the historical course of events, in light of his comprehensive coverage throughout the book - of which this is only one tiny piece of particular interest to myself - he makes a very compelling case.

This book brings far less attention to itself than it deserves.


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