Masquerades – Nikki S Lee

Nikki S Lee is an American performance artist of Korean origin. She uses a camera to record her art, but does not consider herself a photographer (Bright 2011,41). Her typical images are a form of self-portraiture, ‘snapshots’ of herself taken by others with simple point-and-shoot cameras. Of her two major bodies of work, ‘Projects’ is very much a masquerade exercise and ‘Parts’, although apparently more self-referential , is still a performance of sorts. More recently, she has branched into film; ‘AKA Nikki S Lee’ is part documentary and part performance, in which she plays both the documentary-maker and the subject. (reviewed in Kino, 2006 and Davis, s.d.)

‘Parts’ (2002-2005) is the less controversial and easier to describe body of photography. Lee has herself photographed in ‘social snapshot’ situations with different men, prints the image then cuts the man out, leaving just a vestige such as an arm or a hand visible. (slideshow of examples here) Seen individually, these images appear as caricature ‘break-up’ pictures, including the three-sided border which makes it obvious that this is a cut image rather than poor framing. In the AKA film, she gets angry at one exhibition where the borders have been removed before framing in a mistaken attempt to tidy-up the photograph.

When several of the images are viewed together, we see something different. The same face (Lee’s) is matched with differing costumes, make-up and locations and we realise that there is some role-playing (masquerade) going on. Lee tells us (reported by Bright 2011, 41) that these are not break-up pictures but “… show how personal identity is is affected by other people and different kinds of relationships. … You can see that it is one person throughout and that her identity shifts and changes depending on whom she is with”. The use of ‘her’ rather than ‘my’ is significant and suggests that even when interviewed, Lee is role-playing.

‘Projects’ (1997-2001) is a set of interconnected (if only by technique) projects in which Lee adopts a particular group or subculture for a period of weeks or months, attempts to assimilate or blend in, then has herself photographed in persona with group members, by members of the group or passers-by, in the same snapshot aesthetic noted earlier. As before, individual images are unremarkable but viewing multiple images makes the role-play and deeper questions more obvious.

At the surface level, we are tempted to play a version of ‘Where’s Wally’, to identify Lee in each image. Her distinctively oriental features make this easier in groups where there is a racial stereotype (the WASPs of ‘The Yuppie Project’ or the African-Americans of ‘The Hip-Hop Project’ for example) and part of the controversy around her work comes from reviewers dealing with perceived racism (eg. Berger 2001 and Kim 2016)

There are challenges in attempting to fit the group visually. In ‘The Schoolgirl Project’,  going back to Korea helps with facial features but Lee is noticeably older than the group. At the other end of the scale, she had to wear a mask and/or heavy make-up for ‘The Seniors Project‘ (it is reported that the group members ‘thought she was an elderly crackpot and gently humoured her’ (Cotter 1999)). It is her use of blackface in ‘The Hip-Hop Project’ that particularly attracts Kim’s venom.

Any masquerade project (apart from obvious drama in a formal theatrical setting, when we know what to expect) is going to be controversial, with accusations of voyeurism or exploitation. The language used by reviewers is interesting. The more neutral reviewers say little about the process by which Lee joins her groups; however Dalton (2000) who appears generally approving, refers to Lee ‘befriending’ the group, whereas Seamon (2011, reviewing Smith) in a book review says that Lee “… ingratiated herself with various subcultures …”.

The images appear primarily as a comment on the nature and identity of the group she is working with. Group members appear as subjects in the photographs, and Lee has either done her research or spent time assimilating in order to blend in as well as she does. Whether they comment Lee’s own identity is problematic. Clearly she is there, but my own reading is that she is playing a part. Ultimately, these are film stills with Lee as one of the actors.

References

Berger, M. (2001) ‘Picturing whiteness: Nikki S. Lee’s Yuppie Project’. Art Journal 60 (3), pp.54-57.

Bright, S. (2011) Art Photography Now.. revised edn. London, UK: Thames & Hudson.

Cotter, H. (1999) ART IN REVIEW; Nikki S. Lee [online] Available at <http://www.nytimes.com/1999/09/10/arts/art-in-review-nikki-s-lee.html&gt; [Accessed 15/10/2017].

Dalton, J. (2000) ‘Look at Me: Self-Portrait Photography after Cindy Sherman’. Performing Arts Journal 22 (3), pp.47-56.

Davis, B. (s.d.) Cultural Karaoke [online] Available at <http://www.artnet.com/magazineus/reviews/davis/davis10-24-06.asp&gt; [Accessed 15/10/2017].

Kim, E. (2016) Nikki S. Lee’s “Projects”—And the Ongoing Circulation of Blackface, Brownface in “Art” [online] Available at <http://contemptorary.org/nikki-s-lees-projects-and-the-ongoing-circulation-of-blackface-brownface-in-art/&gt; [Accessed 15/10/2017].

Kino, C (2006) Now in Moving Pictures: The Multitudes of Nikki S. Lee [online] Available at <http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/01/arts/design/01kino.html?ex=1317355200&en=ba68cca87c7383c1&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss&gt; [Accessed 15/10/2017].

Smith, C. (2011) Enacting Others: Politics of Identity in Eleanor Antin, Nikki S. Lee, Adrian Piper and Anna Deavere Smith, Durham NC: Duke University Press [reviewed by Seamon, M. in unidentified journal]

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Masquerades – Hannah Starkey?

I have put a question mark in the title because it is unclear how Hannah Starkey’s work fits the theme of this part of the course. On p79 of the course notes we are shown an image titled ‘Self-Portait, February 2013’. It appears to be a page-filler and, frankly, it is an odd selection when we are not shown works by the artists (Nikki S Lee, Trish Morrissey, Tracey Moffat) whose relevant works are described in the notes.

Neither is the presented image an obvious self-portrait. We see a pane of glass, probably an art shop window, behind which is an assemblage of curtains, assorted woodwork (easels?) and, in the centre, a painting on a classical theme. We also see reflections of parts of the outdoor scene – tree branches, an indistinct outline of a building and (centrally) a very indistinct outline of the lower body of the photographer. Any reflection of the photographer’s face is lost in the central bright area of the painting.

I have found two other ‘self-portraits’ by Starkey online. They are, similarly, window reflections with an indistinct image of the photographer. This differs from the reflection-selfies of Vivian Maier, for instance, who would generally catch herself sharply and distinctly. Either these images are saying something deep about self-effacement or they are jokes at the expense of the art world (is the emperor clothed or not?)

However, this is a distraction and Starkey’s other work is certainly worth considering in the overall context of a ‘Context and Narrative’ course. Her photographs, all titled “Untitled” plus a date, are carefully posed and constructed images showing women (either paid actresses or members of the public ‘picked up’ locally) in mainly urban settings or intimate spaces, usually in some sort of apparently natural, contemplative pose. I see parallels with Gregory Crewdson (constructed and directed images) and Martin Parr (apparently unguarded moments) but without Parr’s whimsical style. These images are too serious for that. The Tate suggest a parallel with Jeff Wall’s constructed banal scenes (‘banal’ is not necessarily a pejorative term, see my previous posting)

Starkey’s images are haunting and just a little unsettling. Perhaps it is the cinematic style (and I feel the same thing with some of Crewdson’s work) suggesting that this is the last moment of calm in the movie, just before the horror strikes.

 

Self-portraits – examples and comments

Self-portraits in one form or another are all around us. The smartphone ‘selfie’ is one of the defining features of our age, having an OED entry and an example in the Time 100 list. Many of these appear on social media every day and my general impression is that they are narcissistic, sometimes honest but mostly presenting a glamourised version of the poster’s life, particularly of their holidays and hobbies. The messages contained in the images are “I am/was here”, “I have done this” or just “Look at me”. Even the art-world-canonised Francesca Woodman was not above this kind of thing, Me and my Room-mate is a straight cheesecake celebration of being young and beautiful.

Self-portrait has been used to express deeper ideas. The course notes give two examples, the works of Francesca Woodman and Elina Brotherus (in my view, Gillian Wearing does not count as self-portraiture, for reasons previously noted). Woodman was experimenting with fairly abstract ideas, and used herself as a model “because I am always available”. A lot of Brotherus’ self-portraiture work, particularly ‘Annonciation’ is autobiographical so the self-portrait format is a given. In the case of ‘Annonciation’, nakedness in some images is entirely appropriate – the series describes a process (infertility treatment) that the most intimate parts of her body were being subjected to, so it is reasonable to show that body.

Sean O’Hagan (2013) came up with a list of ‘the 10 best photographic self-portraits’ which is necessarily subjective. It includes one from Woodman and one from Wearing, but he overlooks Brotherus. Six of the ten are self-indulgent to some degree – the images are intended to represent the author. The most disturbing of these is Giles Duley’s Becoming the Story: Self-portrait, 2011, also known as the ‘Broken Statue’, showing Duley following a triple amputation after a landmine explosion; he has, literally, become the story and the image is an honest depiction of the kind of damage these weapons can do.

John Coplans’ Back with Arms Above’ (1984) uses the body to create an abstract image. Unlike, say Bill Brandt, who created abstract nudes using models, Coplans has used his own body presumably because, like Woodman, it was available.

Trish Morrissey, like Gillian Wearing, photographs herself (or is photographed) in character as other people. The difference is that we see her own face and body. For instance, in the series Front’ (2005-2007) she found families on the beach and replaced one female family member (changing clothes with her) who then took the photograph. Viewing this series, and others, it is disconcerting to see the same face cropping up. These works play with the nature of identity and of family album photograph.

We are asked whether these images would  ‘work’ for an outsider without any accompanying text. As so often, the answer is “it depends”. In a single image, without explanation, it would not be obvious that we are seeing a self-portrait. When looking at a series, such as ‘Annonciation‘ or ‘Front’ it is obvious that the same person appears in all the images and we know that we are looking either at a model or a self-portrait. In the case of ‘Front’, the appearance of the same face in multiple contexts is particularly thought-provoking. It is interesting that Morrisey’s series’ are presented without text (other than image titles) on her website. Whether further explanatory text is required depends on your view of the photographer/subject/viewer triangle and on who is responsible for extracting the meaning from the image.

Reference

O’Hagan, S (2013) The 10 best … photographic self-portraits [online] Available at <https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2013/mar/23/10-best-photographic-self-portraits > [Accessed 1/10/2017].

Self-portraits – Gillian Wearing

Gillian Wearing is a conceptual artist who uses photography or video to record her / her subjects’ performances. Her breakthrough piece “Signs that Say What You Want Them to Say and Not Signs that Say What Someone Else Wants You to Say (1992-93)” is an exercise in breaking through the perception of English reserve. The device of having subjects hold up a piece of paper expressing their innermost thoughts has penetrated popular culture to the extent of becoming a scene in Richard Curtis’ film ‘Love Actually‘ (2003).

She continued to explore the theme of emotional honesty and confessional with the videos ‘Confess All On Video. Don’t Worry You Will Be in Disguise. Intrigued? Call Gillian.(1994), ‘Secrets and Lies‘ (2009) and ‘Trauma‘(2010) in which her subjects’ anonymity is protected by masks bought from a fancy-dress shop.

Masks are the major feature in Wearing’s so-called self-portraits, several of which can be found in the Maureen Paley online gallery. The set referred to in the course notes is ‘Album‘ (2003) in which she recreates images of her family members from various photo albums. She has also portrayed herself as some of her artist-heroes, such as Diane Arbus, Andy Warhol and Robert Mapplethorpe and, earlier this year an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery (Searle 2017) in which she parallels the mask-disguise work of Claude Cahun.

A common feature of all of these works is the thick silicone masks that Wearing wears, usually only her eyes disconcertingly  visible through deliberately rough-cut holes, and this is where I find myself in difficulty with the definition of ‘self-portrait’. Unlike the work of Cindy Sherman, who is recognisably herself, whatever persona she is portraying in her images, Wearing’s mask images appear more as disguise than self-portrait.

sculpture-of-the-artists-003Wearing explains the process of creating the masks and the photographs in an extended Guardian piece (Wearing 2012). These are thick silicone masks, created by a mask-maker with training from Madame Tussauds, intended to remove the contours of Wearing’s face  and almost every other piece of visible skin. This image is of the mask representing her sister, and includes coverage of the throat as well as the face.

This is taken to extremes in the image portraying Wearing’s brother, Richard, naked from the waist up and combing his hair. The torso, described as a body mask, is several inches thick and causes me to ask at what stage does something cease to be a mask and become a piece of sculpture in its own right. I have to conclude with a personal opinion that these images are not self-portraits at all and may not even be disguise, but that Wearing is using her body as an armature for a piece of sculpture created by (and presumably photographed by) somebody else. She is the mastermind behind a production team and a piece of performance art, but she appears to have more in common with Gregory Crewdson than with Elina Brotherus.

References

Maureen Paley (s.d.) Gillian Wearing [online] Available at <https://www.maureenpaley.com/artists/gillian-wearing&gt; [Accessed 1/10/2017].

Searle, A (2017) A ghost in kiss curls: how Gillian Wearing and Claude Cahun share a mask [online] Available at <https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2017/jan/08/gillian-wearing-claude-cahun-mask-national-portrait-gallery&gt; [Accessed 1/10/2017].

Sooke, A (2012) Gillian Wearing: Everyone’s got a secret [online] Available at <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/art-features/9149522/Gillian-Wearing-Everyones-got-a-secret.html&gt; [Accessed 1/10/2017].

Wearing, G (2012) Gillian Wearing takeover: behind the mask – the Self Portraits [online] Available at <https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2012/mar/27/gillian-wearing-takeover-mask&gt; [Accessed 1/10/2017].

Self-portraits – Elina Brotherus

It is not clear why the author of the course notes picked two nude self-portraits of Elina Brotherus as illustrations. While most of her work (Brotherus, 2016) includes the photographer as her own model, she is fully-clothed for the majority of it.

Elina Brotherus (b 1972) is a Finnish photographer, now based in Finland and France.  “I was left with this idea of what adults do,” she says. “They do chemistry and if that doesn’t work, they study art. So that’s what I did.” (quoted by Sherwin, 2010). In this she is modest, having gained both an MSc in chemistry and an MA in photography. At the time of Sherwin’s Guardian article, she was best known for her landscape and figure-in-landscape. Her autobiographical photography came later and reflects an earlier period, including the ‘Das Mädchen sprach von Liebe’ and the Model Studies series.

There are differences between Brotherus’ work and that of Francesca Woodman. With Brotherus, I get a much stronger impression of narrative, within individual images and in the series. And, of course, Woodman denied herself the opportunity to mature as a photographer.

The link between Brotherus’ early and late periods of autobiographical work is illustrated in the series ‘12 ans après (12 Years Later) made in 1999 and 2011-13. During a period as artist-in-residence to the Musée Nicéphore Niépce in Chalon-sur-Saône, she made the series ‘Suites françaises’ showing herself learning French with the aid of Post-it notes stuck to parts of her guesthouse rooms. Returning to teach a workshop in 2011, she stayed in the same guesthouse and recorded many of the same places and scenes; the two sets of images creating a dialogue across the years.

Unlike, say, Cindy Sherman whose self-portraits have an air of artifice and glamour, Brotherus is brutally honest about herself and her emotions. Probably the most personal series is ‘Annonciation‘, made between 2009 and 2013, dealing with five years of unsuccessful infertility treatment and her final acceptance of involuntary childlessness.

Annonciation 9, She would go to Anne-Sophie’s school

Annonciation 9, She would go to Anne-Sophie’s school (source: elinabrotherus.com)

Broken up into years by facsimile diary pages, the series charts a progress through hope, despair and tears to a form of acceptance, a female figure with her back to camera in the middle of a snowy landscape.

As a sort of follow-up, ‘Carpe Fucking Diem‘ (2011-15) “ is an attempt to reconstruct the meaning of life for a future that is not what I imagined it to be”. Shot partly in parallel with ‘Annonciation‘ and partly in the two years afterward, the series takes Brotherus from those depths to a new surreal view of things around her. In her own words, “I don’t have children so I don’t need to adopt any preconceived role of an adult. I can give normality the finger. Carpe Fucking Diem is also about inventing strange games for the playground of the camera.”

Reference

Asbæk, M (s.d.) Elina Brotherus [online] Available at <http://www.martinasbaek.com/Artists/Elina-Brotherus&gt; [Accessed 30/9/2017].

Brotherus, E (2016) Elina Brotherus [online] Available at <http://www.elinabrotherus.com&gt; [Accessed 30/9/2017].

Sherwin, S (2010) Artist of the week 104: Elina Brotherus [online] Available at <https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2010/sep/08/artist-week-elina-brotherus-photography&gt; [Accessed 30/9/2017].

Self-portraits – Francesca Woodman

Francesca Woodman committed suicide in 1981, at the tragically young age of 22, having failed a suicide attempt the previous year (Wikipedia, 2017). There, I’ve said it – as has pretty much every reviewer of her work that I have read; most use it as their starting point, or even as the central theme for discussing Woodman’s work. I find myself questioning the standard analysis (that her photography indicated a troubled mind and foreshadowed her suicide) as being just to trite, too ‘easy’. She had, after all, been photographing since the age of 13 – almost half of her short lifetime, and I doubt that she was suicidal for all that time.

Indeed, some recent commentaries (Gumport 2011, Salter 2012, Keiffer 2016) suggest that Woodman was self-aware and ambitious, with depression only entering the story around 1980 as a result of lack of recognition, refusal of funding, and a failed relationship.

I also wonder about discussing Woodman’s work as a completed oeuvre. Clearly, it is ‘complete’ in the sense that there will be no more of it but a majority of the images I have found online are from her high school and student days (up to late 1978) and have the look of student experiment, cutting loose with subject matter and camera techniques. I suggest that we are looking at the juvenilia of a potentially great artist, tragically unrealised.

Woodman’s photographs (and some surviving video) are varied and fascinating. Almost all feature human figures, herself or other young models/students and in many of them, the use of long exposures has blurred the body almost out of recognition. A large proportion feature nudity (so public display of anything pre-1976 is problematic) or vintage costume, both of which contribute to a timeless (or outside-of-time) quality.

According to Kate Salter, Woodman says the reason for taking so many self portraits was ‘It’s a matter of convenience – I am always available.’ (quoted in Salter 2012)

It is Woodman’s blurred images (examples here and here) that have attracted most comment – probably because of the association with self-effacement, disappearance and her eventual suicide. However, her sharper images in which she gazes direct to camera seem (to me) to say more about the artist herself. ‘Me and My Roomate, Boulder, Colorado is straight cheesecake, a reminder of happy student days. An untitled image from the ‘Polka Dots‘ collection, and the well-known Providence, Rhode Island ,1976 show a wary, slightly haunted expression in images with surreal elements. In contrast, in ‘From a Series on Angels, Rome, Italy 1977she wears a rather stern and slightly intimidating expression.

Overall, a complex character and a great loss of potential, but interpreting her work as presaging her suicide is just too simplistic.

References

Gumport, E  (2011) The Long Exposure of Francesca Woodman [online] Available at <http://www.nybooks.com/daily/2011/01/24/long-exposure-francesca-woodman/&gt; [Accessed 30/9/2017].

Keiffer, M (2016) Haunted Genius: The Tragic Life and Death of Francesca Woodman [online] Available at <https://theculturetrip.com/north-america/usa/new-york/articles/haunted-genius-the-tragic-life-and-death-of-francesca-woodman/&gt; [Accessed 30/9/2017].

Salter, K (2102) Blurred genius: the photographs of Francesca Woodman  [online] Available at <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/art-news/9279676/Blurred-genius-the-photographs-of-Francesca-Woodman.html&gt; [Accessed 30/9/2017].

Wikipedia (2017) Francesca Woodman [online] Available at <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francesca_Woodman&gt; [Accessed 13/9/17].

Photographing the Unseen – Exercise (three OCA alumni)

All references are to the OCA course notes, Context and Narrative, pp 62-68, unless otherwise noted.

Peter Mansell

Pete Mansell is paraplegic from a spinal cord injury sustained at the age of 20. His projects discussed in the course notes deal with the unseen effects of his injury.

The ‘seen’ effects would be comparatively easy to document, with photographs (selfies or taken by others) of Mansell in his wheelchair or coping with daily life. However, the unseen effects are known only to Mansell himself and given shape by his photography. We are given three examples:

Drug Packaging, seen alone, is a simple macro pattern shot of part of a package of drug capsules, with one apparently popped out. A pleasing image with a strong diagonal composition but one likely to be passed by. However, seen as part of Paralysis, a series showing the medication, equipment, scars and infections that are a part of his life at Maslow’s base ‘physiological needs’ level (Mansell is confused with Herzberg’s hygiene factors) gives the viewer some insight into the sheer ‘guttiness’ of living with his kind of injury.

Examining shows us a corner of a room, apparently in a medical institution, with the end of a hospital bed. On the bed is a transfer blanket with carrying handles; it is a reminder that patients, including Mansell, are unable to get onto the bed by themselves but have to be manhandled onto it. This is part of the series, Check Up, which shows us details of the National Spinal Injuries Centre at Stoke Mandeville Hospital. Mansell is very positive about this place and claims an emotional connection; the staff already know the issues so there is no ned to explain. Again, the individual image is only a part of a much greater sum. Each of the nine images in the set has a one-word, ‘…ing’ title; ‘Inspiring’ shows us a portrait on the wall of a wheelchair athlete.

My Space is a stand-alone (if that is not a tasteless word in the circumstances) image, rather than part of a series. It shows the detail of a room, presumably the lounge at home, with part of a door opening, a standard lamp, coffee table/cabinet and one edge of a sofa or armchair. Their is a chair-width length of blank wall and the coffee table is pulled away from the wall, creating a space into which a wheelchair could fit. This is not a wasted space – it is there to accommodate Pete Mansell’s wheelchair, not there at the moment, because Mansell is sitting in it to take the photograph. We are reminded of the adjustments to daily life that are required to accommodate disability; we assume that other rooms have similar dedicated spaces.

Dewald Botha

Dewald Botha is, with Mansell, a member of [6], a group of OCA alumni who started collaborating as undergraduates. Ring Road is a set that, at one level, is of a subject very much ‘seen’. It shows the concrete structures of a raised roadway around the city of Suzhou in Jiangsu Province, China. However, Botha tells us (in a brief website caption) that he is using the road as a metaphor for boundaries and limitations. Boundaries are usually visible, limitations often are not. One distinction is that a boundary is a physical constraint, whereas a limitation is a mental one.

I have more difficulty extracting meaning from this set than from Mansell’s work. For instance, if he is ‘searching for pockets of calm and quiet’, why do several of the images show the road surface itself, near junctions (one with oncoming traffic stopped at a signal on the top-left third-point of the image). Other images show greenery (apparently tended) around and below the road structures, indicating that these are spaces that somebody cares for. I can also get the sense of ‘boundary’ or ‘limitation’, from the view that any ring-road (even the M25) necessarily separates inside from outside of itself and imposes a restriction on growth of the urban centre. I suppose, in the context of the present exercise, I am having trouble seeing the unseen.

Jodie Taylor

Jodie Taylor’s series Memories of Childhood was also referenced in Expressing Your Vision, Assignment 1 (Square Mile). Unfortunately, her learning blog no longer exists and a Google search reveals that there are several Jodie Taylors with a web presence as photographers (plus an Arsenal footballer), so it has not been possible to find the full set and I must rely on the description and three images presented in the weareoca blog posting.

The premise can be simply stated. Photography represents the past as soon as the shutter is clicked (Barthes, Berger, Sontag and others have made similar points) and we become nostalgic about it. Taylor’s series is about that nostalgia, provoked by moving back into a house that she grew up into. The surviving images are of rather scruffy, intimate areas (two paths/alleys and a row of domestic galleries). These are the sort of places that evoke memories of school summer holidays and teenagers simply ‘hanging out’. I have memories of attempting to ride a friend’s motorcycle outside just such a set of garages and, doubtless, other viewers will recall a first cigarette or a first kiss (I’m keeping it clean here). Reading the weareoca posting, I see that it has evoked similar memories in Sharon, the reviewer.

Taylor tells us that this is to be a ‘fine art-based project’ but presented it as a set of machine-prints from 35mm in a cheap plastic album with ‘warts and all’ scratches an blemishes. I am unable to reconcile ‘fine art’ (or at least my vision of it) with the scruffy approach, but I have to admit that it will work on a conceptual level as further context to evoke nostalgia – which was the point of the exercise. This comes back to the question of the ‘snapshot aesthetic’ that my tutor has referred to, and which will have to be the subject of a future posting. However, I wonder about the artificiality or contrivance of the approach. If a set old old prints were found in a shoebox in the attic it would invoke genuine nostalgia; is that a different thing from deliberately trying to manufacture it?

Coursework questions

Which of these projects resonates most with you, and why?

It is easy to pick out the ‘third place’. I had difficulty engaging with Botha’s Ring Road, for reasons noted above.

Jodie Taylor’s and Pete Mansell’s work resonated in different ways and for different reasons. Taylor evoked direct memories; Mansell gives me a vision of an alternative past and present. We have probably all had traffic accident near-misses; is this how life would be if something had been only a few inches or a few seconds different? If deciding between them, I would go for Mansell because I have been able to find more of his work online and, therefore, to engage better.

How do you feel about the loss of authorial control that comes when the viewer projects their own experiences and emotions onto the images you have created?

Some years before starting the degree course, I read Terry Barrett’s Criticising Photographs and was annoyed at his statement that the photographer’s interpretation of an image was no more nor less valid than the viewer’s [reference to be added when I find it on re-reading]. I assume that this is what the questioner means by loss of authorial control. While studying over the past 16 months, I have come to revise that opinion. The viewer is an integral part of the subject/photographer/image/viewer sequence and will extract his/her own meaning from the image. However, the viewer can only react to what is in front of him/her; it is the photographer who places it there.

My nearest experience of this loss of authorial control must be competition nights at my camera club when the judge comments on my entered images. Sometimes, the judge will interpret the image very differently from me and I might seethe ‘he’s missed the bloody point’. In many cases, mature reflection shows me an alternative or deeper meaning that I did not fully appreciate at the time of taking. I don’t have to like it, but it is often instructive.