Celebrating Spring!

Maybe I DO want to be an artist after all!

My first semester in Art School, I came to the thrilling realization that I really am going to be an artist.

Now I am in the middle of my second semester, and last week I had the liberating revelation - I don’t want to be an artist!!!

Many other things perhaps: a photographer, a story teller, an artisan, a designer, perhaps - but art, it’s just too pretentious, restrictive, conceptual, removed from reality and worst of all, it seems to trivialize or even reject the main thing that made me want to make art in the first place – beauty!

I felt a lot better once I freed myself from that short-lived aspiration!

******* 

Spring break – 30,000 feet above the earth, spring break, on my way to LA.

I brought along a slim little book by Robert Adams called “Beauty in Photography – Essays in Defense of Traditional Values”. Robert Adams is a landscape photographer, whose works I know fleetingly.  I checked out the book – actually ordered it from a different library, because the relationship of beauty to art is one of the nuts I have been trying to crack since I started art school.

Robert Adams, I kiss your feet!!! 

I CAN ASPIRE TO BEING AN ARTIST AGAIN! Never have I found in one place so many of the feelings, beliefs and inspirations that made me want to become a photographer and an artist in the first place.

This skinny little book has only been taken out once before – 4 years ago, and yet every other page is folded over to mark a significant passage. For me, several cocktail napkins are scribbled with quotes. Here are a few:

“Successful art rediscovers beauty for us” (p.27)

And he quotes the reviled Steigliz as saying “ Beauty is the universal seen”   AMEN!

On art and social conscience: “Art has social utility. It is designed to give us courage. Society is endangered to the extent that any of us looses faith in meaning, in consequence. Art that can convincingly speak through form for significance bears upon the problem of nihilism and is socially constructive. Restated photography as art does address evil, but does so broadly as it works to convince us of life’s value… the darkness that art combats is the ultimate one, the conclusion that life is without worth and finally better off ended …which is to say that art addresses an inner struggle whereas journalism more often reports on the outward consequences of it.” (p. 70)

Hines, the reformer “wanted to show, he said, both what was bad so we would oppose it, and what was good so we would value it…We feel tremendous gratitude for these paradoxical views (talking of some of Hine's, Lange’s and Evans’ photographs)  - for the way they continue to help us lifelong. When we are young we want art that is filled with bitter facts, because we believe that evil can be overcome if we face it; when we grow older we begin to doubt this optimistic belief, we want art that does not simply reinforce the pain of  our disillusionment. In pictures like those of Hine (and I would add Salgado, Natchway etc) the requirements of young and old are both met; the photographs urge reform, but seem to suggest that the need for it is not the most important thing to be said of life.” P 74

*******

Robert Adams had a lot to say about art and the search for the original – another theme I have been chewing on since I have been in school.  It seems to me, that here in Art School, and in much of what I see of established contemporary artists, the search for originality can be undermining to art itself.

In response to the question “what’s new?” we can answer with conviction that photography is new, not because it was invented recently and not primarily because of photography’s changing technology…but because photography is by its’ nature forced toward that old job of art – of discovering and revealing meaning within the confusing detail of life. (p. 83)

He quotes from Man Ray: “There is no progress in art any more than there is in making love” p. 88

The artist commits himself to art precisely because he believes that he has seen what others have not…

…New pictures are the only way to avoid exile from himself

….Art has to be reborn (p. 82)

Questions Without Answers

Questions Without Answers is a photography exhibit at Tufts of work by the VII agency, encompassing all of the major conflicts and disasters of the last 2 decades. It engendered quite a bit of controversy in one of my classes, with several of the students feeling like the material was presented in an overwhelming and desensitizing way that could cause the viewer to turn away from the material, helpless. Others felt it was an important reality.

Of course I had to go see for myself. These conflicts and their images have been an overarching presence in my life. And the question - how do I live in a world where these things are happening, and to a great extent, as a citizen of the United States, I myself am helping to perpetuate? - that question is the large unanswered question of my life.

Walking into the exhibit, I was stunned. Overwhelmed. As I went from one photograph to the next, my eyes were sometimes blinded by my tears. Two decades of man's inhumanity to man. Two decades of eyes, almost all now dead, looking at me full force. I was going to say accusingly, but that is not it at all.The eyes were just looking. Or not looking. But each spoke with voice that outlives them. A voice that says, I am here. This is real. Look at me. This happened. You cannot close your eyes. You cannot deny. We are part of the same world. We are part of the same humanity.

And the act of standing in that quiet gallery was an act of acknowledgment. Simple and undeniable. And I am grateful for that moment, painful as it was. For in that moment of acknowledgment I felt reconnected with my own humanity, how strange...

Because of the controversy in class, and how moved I was by the show, I had to dig deeper. I found a book "Beautiful Suffering: Photography and the Trafficing in Pain" in the school library. And I realized I was in the midst of a controversy that was perhaps as old as photography itself. And not ony that - my two most  profound experiences of the exhibit were at the polar opposites of the debate.

And yes, in those photographs I see beauty. Both beauty of craft and of subject. Franco Pagetti's image of an Iraqi mother and child was a Pieta, straight from Michelangelo. Some criticize the linking of beauty and suffering. But that is a long tradition of Western Art, Christian Art. I have always been moved by religious art. Universal chords are struck. As a mother I feel that mother. For a moment I am her. She is me. An exchange. I will never be the same. And yes, I see her try to hide her face with her hand. And it hurts me that this picture was even taken. I know that gesture. I saw it in Afghanistan, and only once took the picture, my reflex to slow to stop my finger. And that brings up the questions of exploitation, 'traffic' in suffering, payment for services. All valid and important questions to wrestle with. Questions without answers that cause me, for one, as a photographer to look deeply into what I am doing.

How incredible that this exhibit raises those questions. My computer does not. Even though raw materials used in its manufacture come from the Congo and created the conditions giving rise to this photograph by Marcus Bleasedale. It will haunt my fingers on this computer. Will it make a difference? Questions without answers....
I think I have to quote Max Reinhart's essay in the book Beautiful Suffering: In answer to Sontag's criticism of photography:"Photographs do not explain, they acknowledge" he quotes Cavell, "a philosopher who has, for half a century returned again and again to reflecting upon what is entailed in the act of acknowledging. For Cavell acknowledgment is precisely what it is we must offer when confronted with human suffering. It is the difficult, often painful, and thus often avoided act of responding appropriately to the pain of others. 'The acknowledgment of others,'he wrote, 'calls for recognition of the other's specific relation to oneself'" 

There that was what I was trying to get at. And both Alfredo Jarr and the VII photographers demanded from me that moment of acknowledgment.   "Both are egomaniacs" Said one teacher of Natchwey (VII) and Jarr. Perhaps if I knew them better, my knowledge would color the way I see their work. Perhaps. But I kiss their feet, for both have given me my own humanity in the face of an inhuman world, both have given me something to aspire to. Perhaps one in the process, the intention (Jarr) and the other in the result. But both, to my mind infinitely valid. I live in a glass house.

Alfredo Jarr

A visiting artist - his talk reconnected me with why I want to make art - something that can get lost in all the conceptualization!

Here is a letter I wrote to him afterwards. I haven't stopped thinking about him.

Dear Alfredo Jarr –

I was so moved by your talk at the SMFA and your lecture later that night at the Museum that I feel compelled to write to you.

You spoke of how Rwanda made you distrust images, and I have been thinking about that ever since. I had exactly the opposite experience with Rwanda. At the time, I had been living in the wilds of rural of Mexico, completely cut off from news of any kind, and so was completely unaware of what was happening in Rwanda, until I went into a city one day and saw a picture on the cover of Time. It was of the rivers flowing out of Rwanda, running red every 20 minutes as the Hutus went from village to village slaughtering.

That photograph hit me full force and changed the course of my life. I could not believe that this was happening and nobody was doing anything about it. From that moment on, I could no longer continue what I had been doing, no longer stand on the sidelines This one photograph of Rwanda (and then Gorevitch’s book) eventually set me on a course that took me to Afghanistan after the invasion and finally here to study at the Museum school in my fifties.

Since you spoke I have thought deeply about what you said, and my experience with that one photograph. And I think so much has to do with becoming desensitized. Being bombarded day and night with cable news, endless stories, images, propaganda from all sides that one’s heart closes. We feel inundated and paralyzed by all the suffering and injustice around the world, and here in our own communities and so we close our eyes, thinking to preserve our sanity -  and we loose our humanity in the process.

Because, I think, in fact, that when we are able to truly see, to truly feel something, no matter how horrific, there is a counterintuitive sense of…relief….  I have never been quite able to understand it.

But listening to you, to your infinitely sensitive and care-full approach to your work, I realized what it is. When an image, a word, a work of art, reveals the reality that we actually live with blindly every day, when we can feel it for one moment, we become re-sensitized. And then we do in fact regain our humanity. Without it we are lost.

Your art itself and listening to you talk, your whole approach to making art, gave me one of those moments. You are an inspiration. Thank you.

His beautiful website: alfredojaar.net

An Art21 episode: http://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/jaar/index.html

Starting with a bang!

sooooo.... I am taking intro to drawing this semester. I walk in the room feeling like a jerk.  I haven't drawn anything since I was 12. Don't even know what kind of paper I am supposed to get. I open the door. Jazz is playing, a tall lanky man with a gorgeous body is standing naked in the middle of the room, and the teacher says, "don't worry, just scribble!" And I did and I haven't had so much fun since I was 12 either!!!!!! This is going to be a great semester!

Anniversary

This is what my daughter sent me this morning:
Yes, we lost yesterday.

BUT, we still have a great President to be very proud of.  If you didn't see the movie yesterday, please do so now.

www.oneofthesemorningsthemovie.com

Yesterday is a good reminder about how hard we have to keep working if we are to maintain our ground.  That doesn't mean we can't stop and feel good about what we DO have.

Happy One Year Anniversary Mr. President

best,

Valery

One of These Mornings from Valery Lyman on Vimeo.

Humanity

Just came across this amazing photographer working on a project on the "intended and unintended consequences of gun violence in the United States and Guatemala" Powerful, sensitive pictures!

Too Young To Die

The Blue Earth Project

EbonyJet

I have been listening to the news with despair - hearing the pundits and the politicians posturing as the news media whips up the latest frenzy. So much of it is irresponsible and dangerous. My reaction - turn off the television and the radio, absorb myself in the demands of my own life, stick my head in the sand so I can live... but then that is not me, so I am just disheartened.

Because I am on vacation, I have a little time to explore some of the vast amount of stuff that flits across my computer screen, and this morning I found this photographer. I was so moved by his work. These photographs bring to light a reality that is all to easy to close our eyes to. How much more meaning they have than the blather of CNN. They stay with me, bring me to a still, deep place inside myself that must stop to feel the the reality of the world I live in; that must stop to acknowledge the pain and suffering that exists only in my peripheral vision unless I choose to look.

This is news. It informs and expands my world. This is art. It moves me and touches a deeper reality, not through my mind but through my senses. It leaves a lasting impression.

Strangely, this work does not really depress me or bring me down as tragic and  horrifying as is its' subject matter.  No, quite the opposite. I find it inspiring, uplifting even, beautiful. Why is that? Perhaps it is just the utter humanity it portrays. And the reality that is a relief to have expressed, rather than lurking in the shadows of our awareness.

How can work like this receive a larger place in our consciousness?

 

Gratitude!

... I know it's almost christmas but I am finding myself overwhelmed with gratitude for my life right now! Thursday, kalia's class went to the Urban Nutcracker, and their grandma's were invited to come. I hopped on my bike, and rode the 6 miles in the below freezing dawn to get there. My heart was singing. I had on the incredible Burton Snowboarding coat that my sister Angelica gave me, so the cold wasn't even touching me, I was able to ride my mike like that, go be a Grandma, see an incredible dance performance hop back on my bike, race to school for my last class of the semester at the Museum School. How unbelievably lucky is that? What a privilege to be able to so seamlessly go from one world to the next, to not be confined to one role, one mold, one race, one gender, one class, Really, I was calling out my blessings that morning, thanking everyone that makes this incredible life I live possible!

Paradise and My Upside-Down Education

How interesting to spend my whole life learning first hand, self taught, exploring inner and outer worlds and then to go to school instead of the other way around. A lifetime of extraordinary experiences, gleaned insights, foraged knowledge and loosely related fragments of understanding are suddenly given a framework to hold them all together. I can barely describe the experience - but all I can say is I have these odd moments of utter revelation - like this morning doing my History of Photography reading. Amazing.

All of my life, people have told me to narrow my energy and attention to one specific field, or focus on one specific project or idea within that field. And that is often necessary to get anything done at all. But something about that approach to life has always been antithetical to my nature. I don't like to put on blinders. I don't like exclusion. I resent having to limit my sights. I think it's dangerous.

And now I am beginning to think that only art and, more than that an art education, might be broad enough to begin to encompass all the different lifetimes I have led, the different journeys of my heart and mind...

Strange to end up here.... Damn - I might have to change from this diploma degree to a bfa, wouldn't that be funny!

Today, I was going through my photographs to collect a few for my landscape photo class, and inevitably I settled on my photographs of Guatemala. I wrote this to one of my closest friends an artist who lives there: "Am missing Guatemala, it really is my idea of paradise, I must say - the volcanoes rising out of the mist awaken some deep archetypal image in my soul..." Then I opened my History of Photography reading and this was the first thing I read: "We are bewitched by visions of the faraway and the fantastic because dreams of these Edens, of the overseas worlds of beauty and oddness and pleasure, seem to make life bearable. So our fantasies are sustained by a murmuring imagery of yearning." Nice when your school reading is relevant! 
Or how bout this, a fragment from another early morning email to a classmate, Heisue Chung, who had sent me her Photo History paper on Photography and Colonization - Powers of Possession  This is what I wrote:"It is painful to me to study history and see the trail of destruction wrought by the dominance of the white 'race' over the past centuries. Even the word race is another construct of white western men - so it is hard to even talk about without using their language of oppression. This too is a subject which I have spent a good deal of my life suffering about, and trying to understand. I think the subject of my paper perhaps is a psychological clue as to why....I also think we are at the end of it. Our way of life - based on that kind of rape and exploitation of people and the land is at its end. I fear the reaping of what we have sown...." And my history reading went on to address these very themes.
 

A Newly discovered God!

Emmet Gowin

Went to see him today at MassArt. He was amazing - a true elder, speaking with such a deep tenderness and reverence for all life. It was inspiring. I tried to write down a few things he talked about, but mostly I was too absorbed with the beauty of his images and his speaking. There was something heartbreakingly beautiful about the way he talked. The wine of life distilled to its' essence.

Not exact quotes, but close:

 

 

"Art is the sensuous apprehension of what you don't yet understand"

 

"The unknown is friendlier than you think"

 

"The thoughts we have are answered by unknowns"

"The greatest journey you can ever make is to come back to where you already are"