I have been photographing the landscape in various ways since I first picked up a camera. Undoubtedly my exposure to artists like Minor White, John Pfahl and and Richard Misrach, to name a few, have left impressions. However, my work is more specifically concerned with a sense of place – what was it like to be there? How do I remember it? How does photography play a role? And also, what kind of experience does photography itself provoke?
A series of questions emerge from this intersection between place, photography and spectatorship. So what comes first, the personal experience or photograph of a place? The answer might seem obvious on the surface, but perhaps not when we look a bit deeper. If I visit a place for the first time, will my experience be colored by the postcards I've seen in advance? How do my expectations affect experience? When I make my own pictures, how will my photographs compare with those that have come before? Can I fully escape this tendency to compare? If I don’t take any pictures will I feel like I‘ve fully been there? Or is the camera a crutch that prevents true authentic experience? Is there such a thing? What about making “photographic art”? Isn't this some kind of special experience? The artist in me wants to think so, but does the pretense of making art make a difference? Do artists and tourists experience place differently? Maybe art and tourism in this context are just two variations of the same head-trip.
Not attempting to answer these questions directly, this project attempts to engage them.
Just a bit more on photography and place. I've been prodding at some of these issues for a while. My project project rsr attempted to engage how places acquire meaning through mediation-by-image. Historically, landscape photography has a troubled history in America. Photography and land exploration have been closely tied since the Westward expansion of the 19th century and the Native American genocide. Manifest Destiny carried a divine justification for privileged consumption, expansion and supposed ownership of the whole continent. The surveys of this vast, “wild” territory used photography, often in ambiguous ways, to portray notions of grandeur, beauty and sublimity. The photography of Timothy O’Sullivan is a great example. The click of the shutter afforded a specimen, a surrogate ownership. As a landscape photographer, this is another kind of baggage I brought with me.
Against this backdrop, a tourist trip to an exotic or exciting place like Iceland is not unlike a safari. As a spectator in a foreign land, one goes with hopes of capturing something new…expanding one’s horizons, getting away from it all. Distances and cultural barriers will be overcome for the sake of satisfying some inner itch, some fantasy or vision. Meanwhile the locals are somewhat amused (or annoyed) but nonetheless ready to run your credit card through. And wanderlust's goal I guess, is to collect new, exciting, refreshing experiences outside the norm. Specimens of life. Perhaps even bag a few trophy shots just like the professional photographers that came before. The camera is paramount here. More important than the passport, credit card and limbs combined…
So, Iceland...the easy thing would have been to attempt beautiful post-card landscapes. So of course I did some of this. But further, I embraced the tension of my conflicts as my guide. I placed myself at the center of several key roles…artist, tourist, documentary photographer. I also attempted approaches that I'm not particularly used to, such as documentary or street photography. But overarching, I was tourist all the way. Who am I really kidding here? My carbon footprint as an airline passenger was 7,471 pounds. I drove approximately 1700 miles totaling about 9,476 pounds of carbon emissions. I brought three cameras and enough film and digital media to last three times the length of my stay. I brought guidebooks, maps, itineraries, reservations, credit cards, etc. Being an academic and an artist, I certainly brought self-absorbed heady agendas. On a superficial level, these are just an excuse to travel…Is there really any difference between me and a 75 year-old retiree booking a guided tour? Complicated questions with no easy answers...I certainly felt genuine and authentic...my long hours, bad food, lack of sleep, uncomfortable bed (driver's seat of my car) certainly didn't make for a cushy time. The masochist in me says that suffering makes it good!
But after all, Iceland is certainly an intriguing and magical place. The geology itself is often beyond description. I was impressed by the hospitality I received (for the most part) when I was around people. But more often, I was alone in a particularly empty place, working through the textures, shapes, sounds, smells and chills of one location after the next. I invite you to stay a while and have a look around.
