Why's it gotta be a series?

[Mark_3899]

My question is basically rooted in the notion that an individual photograph is not seen as complete if it is not, at least originally--i.e. in a book or in a gallery setting--part of a larger set of works that are based on a theme.

What's so interesting about this to me is that works from a series are so frequently split up--collectors and/or museums cannot afford to purchase (or even really display) a whole series.

I think artists understand this, but I wonder whether or not there is any sense that an individual print from a series is somehow incomplete when seen w/o the rest.

[paulr]

I think this is an issue that museums could do a better job of addressing. Even if they do collect an entire body of work, pieces will often be shown individually in group shows.

Sometimes the result is a work that's diffiecult to fully appreciate (or even to get at all) if you haven't seen it in context, or at least if you don't have any background information on it. Museums are supposed to be educational institutions, so I'm surprised they don't do a better job of helping people out.

It's usually a problem that I notice in group shows or in shows of miscelaneous works from the permanent collections.

[Michael Gordon]

but I wonder whether or not there is any sense that an individual print from a series is somehow incomplete when seen w/o the rest.

I think that entirely depends upon the individual print in question. Some images stand alone well, some do not.

[Kirk Gittings]

Series, particularly theme series, are much more marketable to museums and publishers particularly early in ones career. For instance a body of work from an interesting historic site has multiple levels of interests to a a potential audience than a collection of random (even great) images by so and so unknown photographer. It was nearly 30 years into my career before my body of work in and of itself became of enough interest to be a "theme". My upcoming show is basically a collection of images that are the highlights of earlier projects, i.e. images that stand alone or encapsulate earlier projects, but it was a long haul getting to this point. Prior to this I did books and exhibits on Chaco Canyon national park, Historic Churches of New Mexico, many theme books of contemporary architecture etc. etc. Theme sells.

If a project has any enduring life though only a few images will be remembered and come to encapsulate it. The classic images by Ansel of Yosemite are what percent of the total he shot there? I have seen close to a hundred I think. You can look at the history of photography and find inumerable other examples of this. Ansel (I think) once said that most great photographers are remembered for less than a dozen images. If you have a thirty five year career that is only one great image every three years! I guess it is themes get you noticed but a few great images from those themes gets you immortality.

[Mark Sawyer]

To Kirk's good points, I'll add that the completion of a substantive series shows consistency of vision and commitment to one's work. Pretty much anyone can come up with a truly wonderful singular image here and there. But a gallery/publisher isn't interested in representing a photographer who comes in once every three years to say, "Look, I got a good one. Can I have a book/show?" A serious collector generally wants an image that, if taken by an unknown photographer, has some potential of importance someday. That will never happen unless the photographer has the commitment to produce seriously, continuously, and consistantly enough to establish himself in an identifiable niche within photography's taxonomy. The one-off image, no matter how spectacular, doesn't do that.

If an artist has something to say that means something to him, it's unlikely he can put it into one image and decide, "there, I've said it. Nothing more to do here." A series is an exploration of a thing, a place, an idea, an aesthetic, the photographer's own self... An exploration requires more than one step, even if it's a really great step. Being a photographer of note requires more than a singular image.

[paulr]

to add to Kirk and Mark's good points ...

When I look at someone's work, one of my first clues to how developed they are as an artist comes from their ability to put together a body of work. Artists in early stages tend to concern themselves with making "good pictures." This pursuit may have some benefits, but can also be a trap. "Good" usually means following standards that have been created by someone else's work. The ones who are serious about art tend to evenutally realize that making good pictures isn't all that challenging, and that the real issue is figuring out what they have to say that's uniquely theirs. And then figuring out how to say it.

This is a completely different kind of challenge--all of a sudden they need to figure out how to explore and to express something ... whether it's a place, an idea, a feeling, a fascination, or whatever. And one image is just not enough to do it. This opens up a whole world of puzzles and possibilities ... how to create, through editing, sequencing, or adding new images, a body of work that has strength and coherence, that is greater than the sum of its parts, that taken together, can allow the artist to say "there, i've said it." (to re-use Mark's phrase).

You see the same issues in other art forms where individual pieces are limitied in scale and scope ... like poems, songs, and short stories. Larger scale works, like novels, feature films, or symphonies, can often provide the scope and self-contained context to stand individually as complete statements. But we need to build from smaller pieces.

[Kirk Gittings]

Many good, mature, points here by people who have been around awhile and know how things work in this business.

Also conceptualizing and working through a project enables me to raise my vision of something to a higher level which results in stronger individual images as well as a stronger whole.

For me personally I am always working on a "series" though I may not realize it at the time. Sometimes years later I understand the thread of what I thought was an unrelated group of images and begin to work on it consciously. Sometimes someone from the outside brings this to your consciousness. Because of an article that Steve Simmons wrote about my work some years ago I realized that all my individual projects were part of a greater lifelong series and as a result of his insights I have been consciously working on ever since.

Having said all that I don't think there is anything more fun than just cruising with a cooler full of film, a full tank of gas, just letting things happen with no agenda what-so-ever.

[Mark_3899]

All good points. The reason I ask this question is because I have recently started putting together my work and what I'm noticing is that on one hand I have my "series" work, which for the most part were all very delibrate projects done in the last 15 years inevitably using large format, then I have 25 years worth of smaller format images shot without any preconceived notion of a series. I have started to notice a few central themes to this more free form work (this is of course in the editing), and it seems to evolve, like "Art" It seems to me that they are both two opposite ways of working. I'm not being judgemental of either, but I do think the whole idea that a body of work should be made up of series+'s is a notion in the photography world, more so than any of the other visual arts.

[Mark_3899]

Yes Kirk! That is exactly what I was thinking. Thanks for articulating it so well.

[paulr]

Yeah, there's no reason at all that a series (or whatever you want to call it) needs to be a preconceived idea. A lot of times, the idea can come out of the work, and not the other way around. It's common for the work to begin organically, and then for the artist to have to puzzle out what it's about, and then after that to start working methodically on making the whole thing work.

It's a lot like writing fiction ... stories can practically write themselves, for a while. But at some point, the writer needs to decide what the story's about, and start crafting it, so it doesn't just run in wild circles.

[Mark Sawyer]

" I have started to notice a few central themes to this more free form work (this is of course in the editing), and it seems to evolve, like "Art""

No, that's not the work evolving. It's you evolving. The work is just a symptom.

And I don't know who this guy "Art" is...

[Gary J. McCutcheon]

The process of working in series or through a theme has roots in "The New Bauhaus" which became the "Institute of Design" in Chicago of which Harry Callahan had an important teaching influence. Callahan had his students work and think in terms of theme and series as a process of exploration and growth which not only allowed an instructor to trace and observe student progress, but mimicked processes of the human mind. As a result of this influential process, many schools follow suit today with their teaching methods. Thematic traces can be found in the work of artists throughout history whether writers, painters, sculptors, musicians, and yes, photographers. These themes may be subconscious, internal processes that are only seen in a large body of work over a long period of time or may be observed on a more limited scale in condensed time scale as a relative limited series that is more conscious in nature. What is amazing is that these smaller acts of creativity may surface as larger themes or bits of a great bite so to speak over an entire lifetime.

The really wonderful thing about photography is that it is metaphore for so many larger things, as all forms of art can be. Photography encompasses science and art and life itself and is linked to everything. I don't mean to sound so esoteric, but photography seems to be able to cover subjects as far away as the heavens and as close as our hearts. What most of us know of the world today is because of photography in one form or other. It strikes the intellect as well as the spiritual, the physical and the metaphysical. It can't always be put in words, and words fail so miserably at times. Just then, a photograph says it all. Themes that seem to develop in an artists life are signs of growth and an inner resolving of questioning and exploration that can only be seen on an individual basis that somehow, when actualized and visualized and translated into form, relates to us all. This even moreso in the hands of a gifted artist.

[Mark_3899]

Interesting, I didn't realize Callahan was attributed to the "series" way of thinking. I would have thought it was Walker Evans. I just want to clarify, when I say series I mean a preconceived idea, which has a start and an end and where all the single images make up a whole. When I think theme, it is ties or common threads in a body of work. I am finding that when I start a project I almost always go off in another direction and sometimes what I end up with has nothing to do with the preconceived idea I started out with. Sometimes none of the images seem to relate and I can split the project into a few seperate themes. Do you guys experience this?

[paulr]

Callahan might have been the first to popularize the vocabulary in a photography teaching context, but these are ideas (or observations) that have been around forever. Evans' work was clearly intended as a whole (or at least worked even better as a whole than as individual images). Same for Weston, Timothy O'Sulllivan, Julia Margaret Cammeron, Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, Turner, and story writers, songwriters, and poets going back hundreds of years.

I'm sure Callahan's contribution was significant, but to say he came up with the idea is a bit like crediting Ansel Adams with inventing exposure and development, simply because he came up with the vocabulary of the zone system.

[Mark Sawyer]

There have been many wonderful and influential bodies of photographs going way back. Emerson's "Life and Landscape of the Norfolk Broads," Frederick Evans' studies of cathedrals and attics, the work of the Civil War-then-western expeditionary photographers. Edward Curtis' photography of the North American Indian still stands today as one of the most beautiful and ambitious. Atget's gardens and street scenes, Strand at a given locale... (Sorry, I just love letting my mind wander...) But these were all primarily documentary bodies of work.

Callahan helped codify the vocabulary and value of the "art" series (however we define that), but Stieglitz' Equivalents were the first substantive, cohesive series of photographs I can think of that were consciously produced with "art" rather than "documentation" as the final goal.

There's a constant effort to define current trends and movements art photographers work in, but the phenomenon of working in series goes largely undiscussed, perhaps because it is so pervasive in nearly all styles of work these days.

[Mark_3899]

Ok, this is sort of getting away from my original question. I don't believe Picasso, Van Gogh, Edward Weston or Turner started with an idea to produce a series of something (as defined by me above) with the intent to publish or exhibit it.

"For me personally I am always working on a "series" though I may not realize it at the time. Sometimes years later I understand the thread of what I thought was an unrelated group of images and begin to work on it consciously. Sometimes someone from the outside brings this to your consciousness. Because of an article that Steve Simmons wrote about my work some years ago I realized that all my individual projects were part of a greater lifelong series and as a result of his insights I have been consciously working on ever since. "

What Kirk states above is what I think is probably the norm in the way most artists have worked from the beginning. Yes Edward Curtis was producing his work in series under the guise of documentation, but it was really a commercial venture. Walker Evans was working on an assignment for someone else. Stieglitz's Equivalents, there you go.

"There's a constant effort to define current trends and movements art photographers work in, but the phenomenon of working in series goes largely undiscussed, perhaps because it is so pervasive in nearly all styles of work these days."

Yes, this is one of the things that bother me about the art world. There is this notion about how you should work, what kinds of images you should make, how big you should print, not to mention the artist's statement. Picasso never had to worry about this crap.

[Mark Sawyer]

Sorry if we wandered, Mark, but an interesting thread winds its way around...

I do think Weston's "My Camera at Point Lobos" would qualify as at least a cohesive body, if not a series. His work really divides neatly into specific areas; still lifes, portraits, nudes, rocks, dunes, the ocean. But whether these qualify as a "series" really does depend on ones definition of the word and how one sees the work...

Regarding the original query, "I wonder whether or not there is any sense that an individual print from a series is somehow incomplete when seen w/o the rest," Weston certainly sold them as individual prints, so there I would say no. But in creating publications that were landmarks in their careers, photographers most often have a binding theme to the body of work.

There are a few examples I can think of where a photographer might object to a part of a series being separated. Adams did a series looking over a cliff at waves on a beach below, recording their changing patterns. I've seen these published a few times, always in series, never alone.

"Yes, this is one of the things that bother me about the art world. There is this notion about how you should work, what kinds of images you should make, how big you should print, not to mention the artist's statement."

Only if you're going for critical success as an artist, and then you're in the playground of the professional critics, gallery-owners, publishers, and collectors. It's not quite as specific as you wrote, but you have to meet their expectations if you want to be a success in their territory. Actually, a good thread would be defining the expectations and responsibilities of a "professional fine art photographer" trying to make it in the artworld today. Oops, wandering again...

[Mark_3899]

"Only if you're going for critical success as an artist, and then you're in the playground of the professional critics, gallery-owners, publishers, and collectors. It's not quite as specific as you wrote, but you have to meet their expectations if you want to be a success in their territory."

This has always been my dilemma. I would love to be a "professional fine art photographer" yet I work in the field and have to deal with these people all the time and I have such little respect for many of them (especially the gallery owners) that I don't want to play by the rules. Oh well, I guess it's a life of obscurity for me.

"Actually, a good thread would be defining the expectations and responsibilities of a "professional fine art photographer" trying to make it in the artworld today. "

That would be a good thread Mark.

[Jorge Gasteazoro]

Mark, photograph what you like without worrying about a "theme." After a while you will see there is a certain cohesion to your work and then all you have to do is come up with an art speak statement.

[Mark Sawyer]

"After a while you will see there is a certain cohesion to your work"

True. Humans are creatures of habit. We're all gonna do series work whether we choose to or not. In everything we do...

[paulr]

"Ok, this is sort of getting away from my original question. I don't believe Picasso, Van Gogh, Edward Weston or Turner started with an idea to produce a series of something (as defined by me above) with the intent to publish or exhibit it."

I mentioned before that there's no imperative to start with a theme (or conscious idea, or coneept, etc.).

Some artists start this way, others don't. But most reach point of decision, at some point, where they ask, "ok, what have I done, what is this about, and where is it going?" And then start editing and working methodically towards a complete statement.

[paulr]

"True. Humans are creatures of habit. We're all gonna do series work whether we choose to or not. In everything we do..."

I don't see this. A lot of photographers, especially those who haven't really developed their visions or addressed why they want to make pictures, create piles of work with very little cohesion.

Often the work is identifiably theirs, but what ties it together is either a superficial esthetic or a tendency to copy the style or concerns of someone else. You can look at the work and see some good pictures, but not have any sense of what they're trying to explore, of what draws them to photograph.

Sometimes you'll think "this looks like a sampling from 5 different bodies of work." Other times you'll think, "these all work together, but they look bizarrely like what Ansel Addams was doing 60 years ago. How is this person seeing exactly what Ansel saw 60 years ago?" In either case, the authentic commitment of the photographer to exploring something seems suspect.

[Brian C. Miller]

Sometimes you'll think "this looks like a sampling from 5 different bodies of work." Other times you'll think, "these all work together, but they look bizarrely like what Ansel Addams was doing 60 years ago. How is this person seeing exactly what Ansel saw 60 years ago?" In either case, the authentic commitment of the photographer to exploring something seems suspect.

It's called "channeling." Like Ramtha, but with practical results. I just wish that I could channel a car mechanic.

I think that the photographer is very likely doing an excellent job of exploring something that is new for them.

Take "a sampling from 5 different bodies of work." The photographer is all over the map, pointing the lens hither and yon. Imagine for a moment that with the prints there was also a map showing where and when each photograph was taken, and a pointing to a contact sheet of all the frames. Right now, just a 20 minute walk to downtown Everett, I could photograph old buildings, new buildings, rubble, train tracks, tunnels, flowers, lawns, stuff in people's back yards, weird freaks on the street, normal people, dogs, cats, houses, businesses, totally empty streets, streets with traffic, blue sky with clouds, new construction, trash, gardens, grafitti, and who knows what else.

Now, if somebody rolled off five rolls of 35mm doing that and printed all of it, hung it in random order, you'd never guess that it was from 1/2 mile walk in Everett, WA. A nowhere town. (OK, city, but you wouldn't guess that from seeing downtown Everett.)

Now take "bizarrely like what Ansel Addams was doing 60 years ago." Plop any good photographer and B&W film down in a photogenic landscape, and what do you get? There are a litmited number of ways to photograph pretty scenic things and still get pretty scenic things. If you want to prove me wrong, I'll send you the 120 or LF film to do it.

[Oren Grad]

Paulr -

What are the criteria that enable you to determine whether a group of pictures represents "authentic commitment of the photographer to exploring something"?

[Mark Sawyer]

Well gee, Paul, what do you expect me to say at "22:21:54" in the morning? And I was just finishing a very inspiring series (of beers...) ; )

"A lot of photographers, especially those who haven't really developed their visions or addressed why they want to make pictures, create piles of work with very little cohesion. "

In snapshot photography, I would agree. Whether this is no coherent vision or a vision common to quick personal souvenirs is arguable, (but of little interest here.)

I do believe that once a photographer has worked enough to have created a body of work, it is almost inescapable that he will have a certain consistency in the aesthetic of his work. When a new individual image is perceived as a success, the photographer learns from it and returns to what he perceives as working in that image. We discover the unfamiliar, but return to it if we perceive it holds something for us, be it the subject/mindset/technique or whatever element made that image work.

We copy ourselves, and in doing so learn from ourselves. And while we learn from others, what we learn from ourselves is what eventually makes our work identifiably our own. (For many of us, a big goal is to create a body of work individual to ourselves but holding something others will want to learn from, elevating us to the level of those we learned from.)

"Sometimes you'll think "this looks like a sampling from 5 different bodies of work." Other times you'll think, "these all work together, but they look bizarrely like what Ansel Adams was doing 60 years ago. How is this person seeing exactly what Ansel saw 60 years ago?" In either case, the authentic commitment of the photographer to exploring something seems suspect."

I suppose one sees what AA saw sixty years ago by looking at his photographs instead of responding to what is in front of the camera or one's own thoughts. This might be a case of seeing more in the work of others and having little faith in one's own self. It can also be a starting point, but would hopefully lead off in some other direction. I too see imitators, and have been guilty myself, but I can't see how one could stay in that vein except, as you said, when "the authentic commitment of the photographer to exploring something seems suspect."

BTW, you're probably closer to the truth than I am here, as I threw a blanket statement over something far too large and complex. But I enjoy arguing with you... it stirs my mind and I often change my thoughts. Hope you don't mind...

[Jorge Gasteazoro]

In either case, the authentic commitment of the photographer to exploring something seems suspect.

Well Paul, seems we just cannot agree on anything. I dont know if I understand your previous post, but it seems to me you are saying that if I make a "theme" about my puppies turds that I am committed to photography, but that if I have been photographing 30 years, and photographing that which I know I like I am not "committed" simply because I have not made a "series" work. This, to me, sounds exceptionally arrogant, but I will agree this is how many curators and gallery people think. Must be an art school thing.

[Mark Sawyer]

"There are a limited number of ways to photograph pretty scenic things and still get pretty scenic things. If you want to prove me wrong, I'll send you the 120 or LF film to do it."

You're on, Brian! Send me a 100 sheet box of HP5 in 8x10! Or look at Cezanne's watercolors of Mont Sainte Victoire, or Monet's waterlilies. (Actually, photographing the same thing repetitively is a somewhat common exercise, though seldom for "pretty scenic" purposes. Then again, when the Arizona wildflowers come out, herds of photographers all head for the same place they saw in Arizona Highways...)

Actually, looking at Szarkowski's "Ansel Adams at 100," it becomes clear that AA did work in series more often than generally perceived. There are a series of images of Old Faithful and of ocean waves, and numerous sets of images where he returned to the same subject to find a new photograph. Also several series as early as 1928, which Szarkowski sees as instumental to his developing vision. (You can find the softbound edition fairly cheap online, and it's one of the most insightful look at Adams work, along with Examples, yet.)

[Mark Sawyer]

Jorge-

Not to speak for Paul, but if you've photographed for 30 years and you have x-thousand random photographs with no cohesion, I would question your commitment, not to photography, but to your own vision.

And if you photograph puppy turds for 30 years, yes, you should be committed.

[Jorge Gasteazoro]

but if you've photographed for 30 years and you have x-thousand random photographs with no cohesion

Well Mark, you assume too much, who says I have x thousands random photographs, and furthermore who says they have cohesion or not? By your answer I guess you missed my entire point which was making series work does not necessarily means you are commited to photography or that you are doing good photography for that matter.

[Mark Sawyer]

"Well Mark, you assume too much, who says I have x thousands random photographs..."

Assume x has a value of .001. If you haven't made one photograph, I would question your commitment. Except maybe to conceptual photography. (Okay, flippant answer, but the number wasn't the important point, hence the "X.")

"By your answer I guess you missed my entire point which was making series work does not necessarily means you are commited to photography or that you are doing good photography for that matter."

Paul was talking about the cohesiveness of a body of work. He was debating a rather haphazard statement of mine (which I largely debate myself) that "Humans are creatures of habit. We're all gonna do series work whether we choose to or not." (Remember, I wrote that in agreement with your observation, ""After a while you will see there is a certain cohesion to your work.") In this context, series-work refers to the cohesion of the work to a photographers personal, unique, identifiable aesthetic. Was I clear? Of course not! This is the internet... My apologies for the confusion.

The debateable point here (though we've strayed again) is whether a photographer's substantial body of work will, by the nature of being produced by a single photographer, have one (or several) identifiable charactaristics which holds it together.

[Brian C. Miller]

You're on, Brian! Send me a 100 sheet box of HP5 in 8x10!
Hey! That's for Paulr! And no, you wouldn't get your choice of film anyways. Sheesh, this is what I get for hollering "free beer" in front of alcoholics! :-)

[paulr]

"I dont know if I understand your previous post, but it seems to me you are saying that if I make a "theme" about my puppies turds that I am committed to photography, but that if I have been photographing 30 years, and photographing that which I know I like I am not "committed" simply because I have not made a "series" work. This, to me, sounds exceptionally arrogant, but I will agree this is how many curators and gallery people think. Must be an art school thing."

I think you're interpreting the idea of "series" a lot more narrowly than I am. I'm looking at what I see as the great successes in photography, and I see people making explorations of SOMETHING ... whether it's a theme, a subject, an idea, a question, a person ... that requires more than a single image to complete. It's quite possible that someone photographing "that which I know I like" is doing just this. But simply picking a theme or a subject is no guarantee of creating a body of work that has cohesiveness and depth ... something I think you recognized by using the "puppies" example. Building and editing a body of work is a craft that needs to be learned, just as making a good individual image is.

I typically use the term "body of work" over "series" because a series has a more specific meaning ... typically including a specific order of images. Keith Smith argues for an even more specific definition of "sequence" ... but I'm interested more broadly in a body of work that explores something; a group of images that's greater than the sum of its parts. Some examples from history:

Edward Weston's early modern close ups (quintessences)

Timothy O'Sullivan's Survey work

Julia Margaret Cammeron's mythologized portraits

Paul Strand's New England work

Stieglitz's extended portrait of O'Keefe

Ansel Adams' Portfolios

Robert Adams' Columbia River work

Robert Frank's The Americans

Lee Friedlander's Factory Valleys

William Eggleston's Democratic Forest work

One clue is any time an artist publishes a monograph. A book gives a great sense of finality, and so requires a body of work to be edited and sequenced impeccably. A succesful book is never going to just be a warehouse for a bunch of nice pictures that don't relate to each other.

[paulr]

"Now take "bizarrely like what Ansel Addams was doing 60 years ago." Plop any good photographer and B&W film down in a photogenic landscape, and what do you get? There are a litmited number of ways to photograph pretty scenic things and still get pretty scenic things. If you want to prove me wrong, I'll send you the 120 or LF film to do it."

First, if it's assumed that the goal is to produce "pretty scenic things," then I think there's already been a failure of imagination ... or at least there's evidence that we've allowed our ideas of acceptable art to be limited by something outside ourselves.

Second, if we really do perceive a limited number of ways of making things look pretty, then there's evidence that our sense of what's pretty (or beautiful, or meaningful) has been limited, most likely by looking at other pretty work and taking it as a final statement on what can or should be done.

Third, why exactly is the issue coming up? For it to be an issue we would have to have hauled a view camera into one of the western national parks, which is quite a contrived thing to have done. We don't live here. This landscape isn't characteristic of our lives or the land we see every day. What are we doing here? What gave us this idea?

I really think there are only a handful of reasons anyone makes work that looks like Ansel's. One is that they're appropriating, consciously or not, Ansel's vision. Another is that they're appropriating, consciously or not, the vision of Thomas Moran or other Romantic western painters, much as Ansel did. And another is that they're appropriating, consciously or not, the work of any of the myriad other Ansel clones.

I can't imagine really believing that people make work like his because there's no other choice.

Anyway, I'll take any film you send my way. Or how about this ... I'll provide the film; you send me the plane tickets ; )

[Brian C. Miller]

"Anyway, I'll take any film you send my way. Or how about this ... I'll provide the film; you send me the plane tickets ; )"

What, you don't want to hitchhike across the US with a view camera? Now, where's the adventure in just flying to California?

When I was 15, my dad, my brother and I went on a bicycle trip from St. Paul, MN to Denver, CO, on single speed bikes loaded with about 50 pounds of stuff. It took us 13 days to go about 900 miles. Now, that's a real trip! Getting someplace by sitting on your can in an airplane just isn't the same thing.

"we would have to have hauled a view camera into one of the western national parks, which is quite a contrived thing to have done."
Taking a camera anywhere is a contrivance. Photographing anything, or making any artwork for that matter, is a contrivance. How could it not be a contrivance? Doesn't it take thought and planning? Did the camera load itself with film, attach itself to your hand, focus and expose film by itself, and later detatch and develop the film? Or was that you who contrived, labored and persevered to make those photographs?

"I really think there are only a handful of reasons anyone makes work that looks like Ansel's. ... they're appropriating ... appropriating ... appropriating ..."
So when one person's photographs are remotely similar to another person's photographs it boils down to either everybody's copying everybody (your contention, right?) or there's only so many ways to render the same thing (my contention). For instance, let's examine the San Francisco de Assisi church in Rancho de Taos, New Mexico (http://images.google.com/images?q=church%20%22ranchos%20de%20taos%22%20%22new%20mexico%22&hl=en&lr=&safe=off&sa=N&tab=wi). I first saw the back end of it in Bernhard Seuss' book, Mastering Black-and-White Photography. Then I saw it on Greenspun's site. Finally I saw Adam's photograph. Over the many years that this church has been photographed, I have not seen one photograph which is radically different from the rest of the photographs. It's like everybody used a normal-length lens. There is only so much that can be done with the outside of one building, and the building is still recognizeable.

"Anyway, I'll take any film you send my way."
Heh heh heh... Only if you commit to using the film this way: One exactly like Adams, then some completely unlike Adams. Same camera, same subject, same time frame. No studio shots, that's too easy. Poke through Adam's well-known stuff, find stuff that's as similar as possible in your area, then have some fun!

[tim atherton]

"Yes, this is one of the things that bother me about the art world. There is this notion about how you should work, what kinds of images you should make, how big you should print, not to mention the artist's statement. Picasso never had to worry about this crap."

well, even though he still did his own thing, Gauguin certainly worried about these kinds of things.

[paulr]

"Heh heh heh... Only if you commit to using the film this way: One exactly like Adams, then some completely unlike Adams. Same camera, same subject, same time frame. No studio shots, that's too easy. Poke through Adam's well-known stuff, find stuff that's as similar as possible in your area, then have some fun!"

I'd be happy to do it.

But you don't even need me to see the results of the experiment. Look at Friedlander's pictures of Yosemite and Teton national parks ... his treatment of subjects that are exremely similar to Ansel's.

Yes, he used a square negative, but this does not account for the most fundamental (or interesting) differences between their visions.

As far as the church in Rancho de Taos, here's a mental experiment: ask yourself how you think Robert Adams might photograph it. And then Friedlander. And William Eggleston. And Aaron Siskind. And Robert Frank. And Andreas Gursky. We can't actually know unless they choose to, but I have such clear impressions of the radically different visions of these artists that it's very easy for me to imagine a completely different interpretation and rendering by each one. I have ideas about how i might photograph it, too, and it's a different way still.

Do you really think the possibilities are so limited?

[Brian C. Miller]

Well, Paul, I know how I would photograph that church, and the first thing I'd do is leave the visible spectrum behind! :-) And no normal length lenses, either.