Joel Meyerowitz at B+H

The Beetles+Huxley exhibition Joel Meyerowitz: Towards Colour 1962-1978 presented a very different view of Meyerowitz’ work from the large-format Ground Zero images discussed previously. Unsurprisingly, given that the exhibition was mounted in conjunction with Leica, it deals with his 35mm early work before he bought his 8×10 in 1976.meyerowitzBH

Meyerowitz’ photography is largely self-taught having been inspired to pick up a camera when, as a junior art director, he was briefed to ‘supervise’ Robert Frank on a photoshoot. Being self-taught, and therefore unladen with the baggage of art-world received wisdom, he was attracted to colour from the start. As a matter of practicality, however, he carried a camera loaded with monochrome film as well as one loaded with colour, and much of his early published work is in mono.

There seem to be two threads as we look at the work chronologically. First, the move from predominantly monochrome into exclusively colour work. Meyerowitz regarded a European road trip in 1966 as his coming-of-age as an artist, and had excluded mono from his work by 1972.

Colour describes more things – more radiance, more wavelengths, more sensation. (Meyerowitz, concatenation of two quotes from the exhibition catalogue)

Second, there is a move away from the traditional ‘decisive moment’ images (epitomised by the ‘Kiss Me Stupid’ image above) to something more decentralised or non-hierarchical in which everything, including the colours, contributed equally to the image.

I was trying to unlock photography from the aesthetic of ‘the decisive moment’ – a difficult thing to give up – and to bring the photograph closer to the experience itself, which is inchoate and unresolved in ways that I had been reluctant to deal with before. (Meyerowitz, exhibition catalogue)

Although I have enjoyed Meyerowitz’ later large-format colour work, I found that my preferences in this exhibition were towards the earlier work, mono and colour. Analysing my own reaction, I believe it is because I am reluctant to let go of the concept of the decisive moment.

As always with B+H exhibitions, they make good use of a fairly small space – the photographs are close together but never feel crowded – and the catalogue is excellent value at £10.

Burning with Desire – The Conception of Photography

I bought this book, Geoffrey Batchen’s 1997 alternative take on the history of photography, based on a footnote in the EYV course notes which promised ‘a fascinating account of the origins of photography’. I eventually read it as part of my procrastination over assignment 2 of C&N.

The central part of the book is a post-modern take on what could be thought of as the pre-history of photography. Taking as his thesis the notion that Daguerre and Fox Talbot did not come up with the idea (of fixing the image of a camera obscura) from thin air, he looks back at philosophical thought and art in the 18th and early 19th centuries, to see the notions evolve. This is not something that started in one mind or one place; Batchen tracks down 24 people, who he dubs the ‘proto-photographers’, from eight countries, who expressed ‘the desire to photograph’ (although not in those words) before 1839. Beyond that, there is a cast of characters who have influenced or documented them.

The account is scholarly, picked-up in a lot of detail, well-referenced and difficult to summarise in review. Chapters 2, 3 and 4 carry the story and are worth reading. Chapters 1 and 5 are mainly postmodern theorist-speak and can be ignored if one is only after the history.

A final section, ‘Epitath’ (Batchen 1997: 204-216) echoes Delaroche’s ‘From today, painting is dead” with a prediction that digital imaging would be the death of photography as practiced for the previous 150 years. Like Mark Twain’s obituary, it was premature. While the popular use of film has fallen dramatically, it is enjoying a hipster revival. Of more concern is Batchen’s thesis that, with computer-generated imagery indistinguishable from in-camera digital imaging, photography would lose its privileged status as evidence of the real. With ‘fake news’ and ‘alternative facts’ very much to the fore at present, watch this space …


Batchen, G. (1997) Burning with Desire : The Conception of Photography. Cambridge MA: MIT Press.

Don McCullin – Unreasonable Behaviour

Sir Donald McCullin CBE HonFRPS is probably Britain’s greatest living documentary photographer. Known mainly as a war photographer, he has also covered poverty in Britain and abroad and the famines in Biafra (man-made) and Ethiopia (natural). In recent decades, he has reinvented himself as a landscape photographer, but that postdates this autobiography, first published in 1992. I read the 2002 edition, unchanged apart from a single-page preface.

The writing style is very direct and unflinching in its detail. This is not the work of a man showing off his education and erudition (McCullin is dyslexic and left school aged 15, on the death of his father) but one who has seen the worst that mankind can dish out and is trying to make sense of it for the general reader.

The early chapters cover his childhood in Finsbury Park, one of the poorer and rougher areas of London at the time, as a war child and occasional evacuee. He speaks first-hand of poverty and street gangs. He buys a camera during National Service, and afterward photographs Finsbury Park life and the street gangs. In 1959 a member of one of the gangs was arrested for killing a policeman and the Observer used one of McCullin’s photographs of the gang. An illustrious  career is started, with commissions to record poverty and street life elsewhere in Britain.

The main part of the book, however, deals with McCullin’s documentary work in pretty much every international trouble spot from the raising of the Berlin Wall, up to but not including the Falklands (McCullin is bitter about being excluded – too independent to toe the official propaganda line), in the Middle East, Vietnam, Africa and South America. He spent time in Idi Amin’s jail and has been wounded and caught malaria, in the course of pursuing his  stories.

In the context of this course (Context and Narrative) it is interesting to see how McCullin builds up his philosophy of what photojournalism and documentary mean to him. He pursues an individual course, even when on a commission, independently and honestly showing us what he sees. He deals with the question of voyeurism by concentrating on the ‘ordinary people’, civilians caught up in the horror, ‘other ranks’ soldiers etc. and bringing their story to the fore, and to the attention of readers (starvation in Biafra, for instance)

In the latter part of the book, it is clear that the work is taking its toll, and McCullin also charts the changing attitudes of newspaper owners and editors, looking for softer ‘lifestyle’ stories rather than the uncomfortable dramas he is used to recording. In the final chapters, he is obviously at a low ebb with rejection from the Falklands and the death of his first wife. The book was originally written as a form of therapy and ends on a low note. The 2002 preface tells us of a general upturn and his taking up landscape work.

I see that there has been a 2015 update, written to celebrate McCullin’s 80th birthday. It is on my Amazon wish-list.


McCullin, D. (2002) Unreasonable Behaviour London: Random House


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.

Combining text and image

The course notes introduce three more photographers whose projects intertwine text and image. In these cases, image and text are not inseparable but there is a clear symbiotic relationship – the text effects the reading of the image, and the image gives meaning to the text.

Kaylynn Deveney

The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings is a collaboration between Deveney and her octogenarian neighbour, Bert Hastings. Bert, living alone, had developed a routine and rhythm in life.

In the best Ronseal tradition, this series ‘does what it says on the tin’ and pictures the routine and banality of Bert’s everyday life, but Deveney would then give prints to Bert and he would write a note or a sentence to accompany it: sometimes matter-of-fact, sometimes whimsical.  It could be said that many of the texts are anchorage (“My inevitable cuppa char”) but taken across the entire series, the effect is mainly relay.

Text and image form the context for each other and overall I feel that I know Bert.

Karen Knorr

Gentlemen, in common with Knorr’s other 1980s series Belgravia (encountered early in EYV) and Country Life, is presented as a series of high-quality monochrome prints with accompanying text. Knorr’s text style is unusual, with unconventional capitalisation and a deliberate splitting of the text into short lines giving the appearance of blank verse.



Gentlemen presents a caricature of life in the gentlemen’s clubs of St James’ in central London. The text gives a first impression of anchorage but on closer reading is almost pure relay. The series reminded me of the cartoons  of Glen Baxter; although the subject matter is different, the sense of humour and dislocation is very similar.

Duane Michals

Many of Duane Michals’ individual images and short series have the artist’s handwritten text on the face of the image. Mostly, these are rather quirky relay comments (I particularly enjoyed the 1998 series Madam Schrödinger’s Cat, but perhaps that is the Physics A-level speaking) but the two reproduced below show an element of anchorage. Both are rather long texts, in the context of Michals’ other work and both are self-referential – in both cases, they are comments about the nature of the photograph itself and only indirectly about its subject.





References (n.d.). Duane Michals – Artists – DC Moore Gallery. [online] Available at: [Accessed 15 May 2017].

Deveney, K. (n.d.). The Day to Day Life of Albert Hastings. [online] KayLynn Deveney Photographer. Available at: [Accessed 15 May 2017].

Knorr, K. (2014). Gentlemen | Karen Knorr. [online] Available at: [Accessed 15 May 2017].

Strecker, A. (n.d.). Storyteller: The Photographs of Duane Michals – Photographs by Duane Michals | LensCulture. [online] LensCulture. Available at: [Accessed 15 May 2017].

Soph-istry (research point)

This posting considers works by two Sophies, or one Sophie (Calle) and one Sophy (Rickett). Although the context of the research point is the relationship between image and text, both works are multimedia installations including other material and other forms of expression.

The moral of ‘Take Care of Yourself’ by Sophie Calle (Chrisafis 2007, Fisher 2009) is that, if you are in a relationship with a conceptual artist, don’t end it with dumping her by email. The title comes from he final sentence of X’s email and the exhibition as a whole represents the infernal ire of the proverbial woman scorned.

Calle showed the letter to 107 women (or 106 women and a parrot), asked each to respond to it according to her own profession and recorded, filmed or displayed the results. The parrot ate it, a sharpshooter shot out the word ‘love’ in the three places it appeared, an actor and a clown gave their own readings, a graphic artist turned it into origami, a copy editor deconstructed the grammar and spelling , and so forth… The exhibition is a mix of photos and text, together with video screens and physical objects (such as the sharpshooters target, with the holes illuminated by LEDs).

One reviewer (Fisher 2009) tells us: ‘Wittgenstein once proposed that “the limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” If that is the case, then Calle’s work translates the broader feminine experience into a formalized world of possibilities. The “answers” are less important than the forms of engagement and investigation, the invitation to construct meaning.’

Sophy Rickett’s ‘Objects in the Field’, by contrast, tackles a seemingly more objective subject – her time as Artist Associate to the Institute of Astronomy at Cambridge University. In particular, there is interaction between Rickett and Dr Roderick Willstrop, a retired astronomer and designer of one of the telescopes in use at the Institute.

The exhibition was a mix of photographs and text, displayed in an environment including historic and ancient astronomical equipment which provides a context. The text, reproduced in full by Johnston (2014) drifts in and out of relevance to the images. The early part deals with Rickett’s childhood experience with optical equipment having her eyes tested and being fitted with glasses; the central part tells of her encounters with Dr Willstrop; the final section is distinctly tangential, describing something seen from a train window.

The images include a set called ‘Observations’, which are prints from a set of negatives produced in Dr Willstrop’s telescope. From an interview with Sharon Boothroyd (2013) Rickett I get the impression that there was a mutual regard and also a mutual im=ncomprehension between the two, “So the work came to be about a kind of symbiosis on the one hand, but on the other there is a real tension, a sense of us resisting one another.  The material in the middle stays the same, but it’s kind of contested, fought over.”  Willstrop saw the photographs as scientific research (albeit out of date) and Rickett saw them as art objects (although checking with Willstrop to ensure that she did not misrepresent them)

The reviews that I found are surprisingly similar, even to sharing the same imprecision about the title. To quote Franchi (2014), although others use almost identical wording, ‘The name of “Objects in the Field” comes from the lexicon used by astronomers and astrophysicists that refers to stars as ‘objects’ and to the sky as ‘the field’.’ Rather than plagiarising each other, I suspect they were all quoting from a press release. In an astronomical context ‘objects’ are not only stars, but also planets, nebulae and comets (all of which feature in the ‘Observations’ series) and ‘the field’ is the field of view of the telescope.

We are asked to comment on how these two bodies of work reflect post modern approaches to narrative. This, of course, means first attempting to understand what is meant by a ‘postmodern approach’. I am assisted by Andy Grundberg’s essay ‘The Crisis of the Real’ as summarised by Ashley la Grange (la Grange 2005). Grundberg notes that ‘post-modernism’ means different things in different artistic media, having originated in architecture.

‘Post-modern’ is an odd term to understand because ‘Modern’ describing a particular period in various arts including photography (roughly the first three-quarters of the 20th century) means something different from ‘modern’ in everyday speech (meaning ‘up to date’ or ‘state-of-the-art’). when modern modes fell out of vogue, it was necessary to invent a term meaning ‘more modern than modern’, hence ‘post-modern’.

Post-modernism, according to Grundberg is a reaction against the certainties implied by Modernism in the various arts (my analogy is the TV programme ‘Tomorrow’s World’ as presented by Judith Hahn, compared with the Raymond Baxter era – but perhaps I am showing my age). Critics argued that post-modernism must debunk or ‘deconstruct’ the myths of the autonomous individual and the individual subject, but they disagree on how to do it. Approaches include mixed media or a feeling that the media do not matter so long as the work is defined in cultural terms (Grundberg, in la Grange 2005, 151).

My impression is that, while post-modernism has manifold forms, the common approach appears to be to look for underlying assumptions or certainties, then to challenge or subvert them. This seems to be what both Calle and Rickett are doing in their own way. Both exhibitions used text (and other media) in a relay relationship with the images, rather than the anchorage that was the norm in earlier times. Both are self-indulgent to some extent (Calle more than Rickett). Both appear to demand that the viewer does some work to extract [his/her own version of] the full meaning.


Boothroyd, S. (2013). Sophy Rickett. [online] photoparley. Available at: [Accessed 3 May 2017].

Chrisafis, A. (2007). Interview: Sophie Calle. [online] the Guardian. Available at: [Accessed 26 Apr. 2017].

Fisher, C. (2009). Sophie Calle: Take Care of Yourself. [online] Available at: [Accessed 26 Apr. 2017].

Franchi, D. (2014). Exhibition Object in the Field by Sophy Rickett at the Grimaldi Gallery, London.. [online] Available at: [Accessed 3 May 2017].

Johnston, S. (2014). Sophy Rickett: Objects in the Field. [online] Inside MHS Oxford. Available at: [Accessed 3 May 2017].

la Grange, A. (2005). Basic Critical Theory for Photographers. 1st ed. Oxford: Focal Press.

The Photographers’ Gallery. (2014). Sophy Rickett – Objects in the Field. [online] Available at: [Accessed 3 May 2017].

Rhetoric of the Image – Barthes (a first reading)

The text of Roland Barthes’ ‘Rhetoric of the Image’ can be found in numerous places online. My version is a book extract posted as a PDF by Georgetown University (Barthes 1964).

Barthes’ writings, to borrow a phrase from Paul Seawright, ‘give up their meaning slowly’. I have been able to extract sufficient meaning for use in this project ‘Image and text’; the deep theory of the latter parts of the essay will have to wait for another day.

The essay centres on the deconstruction of an advertising image into its various messages (significations). Barthes chose an advertising image on the basis that all signification in the image is intentional; we read into the image what its creator intends us to read.


There are multiple instances of this image online. My source is

Barthes analyses the signifiers into three parts: the linguistic message and two forms of visual message, the literal (denoted) and symbolic (connoted). Later he notes that linguistic messages can be further subdivided into ‘anchorage’ and ‘relay’. I see an imperfect analogy between the two splits – anchorage can be related to a literal visual message, and relay to a symbolic message.

The literal image denotes what we see at what Barthes calls the ‘first level of intelligibility’. Against a red background is a string bag filled with, and spilling out, the ingredients of a pasta meal. Some are natural produce (tomato, onion, peppers) and some are the manufactured product of the firm (Panzani) being advertised. The products are oriented so that we can read the manufacturer’s name on the labels – which becomes part of the linguistic message.

The connoted message(s) are those things that the viewer ‘reads into’ the literal image. The string bag and the unwrapped vegetables imply a return from market with fresh ingredients. At a second level, this suggests personal choice or selection rather than a ‘Saturday big shop’ stocking-up at the local Tesco. Placing the manufactured goods in the same bag implies that they are as fresh or ‘natural’ as the vegetables, and selected as carefully.

The connoted image, to some extent, depends on the viewer’s cultural background and experiences. Barthes claims to see ‘Italianicity’ in the vegetables and the colour scheme – I only see fresh vegetables, but take ‘Italianicity’ from the labels and the nature of the product (pasta)

There are two sources of linguistic message, the caption at bottom right and the labels on the products. In this case, both fall into the category of ‘anchorage’; they ‘fix’ the meaning of the image, effectively selecting between alternative possible connoted meanings and directing the viewer toward those that the advertiser wants to promote.

Barthes says that every image is associated with some linguistic message, either (as in this example) in the image itself or in the context in which it is seen – for instance, the text in a book, the caption in a newspaper or the wall-notes of a gallery. In the case of still images this is most likely to be anchorage – either the image illustrates the text or the text attempts to fix the meaning of the image; one is subservient to the other.

The other form of linguistic message, ‘relay’ is more common with moving images (for instance a ‘talking-head’ TV broadcast) than with still images; Barthes mentions cartoons and comic strips as likely examples of relay in still images. For me, one of the best examples is Paul Crum’s brilliantly surreal 1937 cartoon in Punch.

The image and the text have equal status and bounce off each other to give an overall meaning that is not complete in either.

Going back to the example picture essays in project 1 (Telling a story), I see Smith’s text and captions as being pure anchorage. Briony Campbell’s picture captions are a mix of anchorage and relay.


Barthes, R. (1964). Rhetoric of the Image. 1st ed. [ebook] Available at: [Accessed 16 Apr. 2017].