A Visually Starved Artist Takes it Out on a 11-14 Year Old

Okay, obviously I'm feeling very ambitious and contemplative today. Last post. I promise. Maybe.

After living two blocks away from the Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture all summer, I finally got around to visiting inside. While walking through the “Wildlife Photographer of the Year” exhibit, I felt compelled enough to take note on a few things that I had to retrieve my checked backpack to grab my notebook and pen. Either that'’s a sign of a good exhibit or the fact that this blog has forced me into some literary habits.

First off, photography is my background and foundation as an artist (my Dad was a professional portrait photographer while I was growing up), but I've strayed away from it lately to pursue, well, things like sewing orange peels together. Still, I wished I could have walked through the exhibit with him because we love to tear apart the work (“umm, why didnÂ’t he make the horizon LEVEL?”). Case in point:


Okay, granted the photographer is probably standing on a not-so-level boat and has a split second to capture this image and probably isn't thinking about the horizon line, no excuses! That's what cropping is for. I do feel somewhat bad about this judgment because the image is from the 11-14 year old category. Sorry Alexei.

Anyway. Back to the exhibit.
The large images looked amazingly rich in color and detail while standing afar, but upon closer examination, I felt like something was off. I’m not sure if it was the matte finish, or the fact that I saw more pixel granules than film grain or a combination of the two, but I found myself having to back up five feet before I could enjoy the image again. I found humor in this as I realized the parallel of nature to nature photography: sometimes, you really don't want to get too close to the subject, otherwise the tiger ripping your face off can be a bit painful. Likewise, don't get too close to the photographs.

Another thing, and this is a little pet peeve of mine in regards to wildlife and nature photography: many, not all, of the winning images seemed to be a result of luck, patience and expensive cameras with high shutter speed. Or, especially in the case of landscapes, the photographer uses the natural composition as opposed to using one’s creative mind.


Are those bad traits? Not necessarily, but I’m currently a product of my art school which places a high emphasis on concept. Thus, I’m more attracted to iconic imagery with something that transcends good timing.




I’m not sure if I’m articulating my thoughts well. Hm. What it boils down to is that many of these images were a result of something reactive (you wait with your eye to the viewfinder, finger hovering over the shutter button, until you see something that causes you to take the picture. You assign the descriptive—contemplative, sad, surreal, energetic—after the image was taken), as opposed to a proactive art form (where you have the idea/emotion first and then create the form). Just two different but valid ways of art making.

Lastly, these images acted as a mirror to my own art making practice. In response to my earlier question: why do I hang my work from the ceiling? Perhaps it IS because of my photography background. Photographs act as a means to suspend time and grant us the ability to examine our subjects more thoroughly and at our own pace. This thought came to me when I saw this image and compared it to one of my pieces from last semester:



Did that get a little deep? This is what happens when I’m outside the art school with no other art students to engage in such conversations!