Whether it’s part of a news headline or the name of a nightclub, the phrase “Pandora’s Box” is such a cliché nowadays that it’s easy to ignore. In fact, I Googled it just now to check I hadn’t forgotten the story, which is basically this: In Greek mythology, Pandora, the first woman on Earth, opened a “box” that contained all the evils of creation, thus releasing them into the world. (Wikipedia is vague on the details, but crystal clear on slut-shaming Pandora.)
In choosing the title for this exhibition at the Musée d’art moderne, curator Jan Dibbets seems to be playing devil’s advocate – literally. “In the course of photography’s brief history,” says Dibbets, “we can see how this diabolical, [emphasis mine] hybrid medium [photography] began to insist increasingly on its place in the arts, especially since the 1960s and the coming of Conceptualism.”
In which case not only does the devil have all the best tunes, he has quite a bit of the coolest imagery as well.
Dibbets is a 74-year-old Dutch Conceptual artist, who has been exhibited at MAM, but who has never curated an exhibition before, let alone a photography exhibition (nice work if you can get it). His approach is original, and it doesn’t always make total sense, but it sure is thought-provoking.
Specifically, it makes you think: Do we really know what photography actually is?
Anna Atkins, “Aspidium obfussum,” c.1850
The first few rooms (and there are quite a few rooms) are dedicated to the earliest days of photography: an 1840 daguerreotype by German physicist Andreas Freiherr von Ettingshausen; cyanotypes by British botanist-photographer Anna Atkins from the 1850s; “vortoscopes” by American Wunderkind Alvin Langdon Coburn, about 1916; Brassai and Man Ray images from the 1930s.
Andreas Ritter Von Ettingshausen, “Clematis”, 1840
Alvin Langdon Coburn, vortoscopes, c.1916
Man Ray, “Untitled, Detail of Project for a Tapestry,” 1925-1926
There is a big room of Eadweard Muybridge’s series’ Animal Locomotion. And images of light effects captured by Etienne Trouvelot in 1888, and moon shots by 19th century astronomer brothers Paul-Pierre and Prosper-Mathieu Henry (as well as moon shots by NASA.)
Multiple Muybridges.
Étienne Léopold Truvelot, “Figures de Trouvelot,” 1888
Juxtaposed with these are more modern images – mostly by Thomas Ruff – echoing the form of the older works. It’s not quite clear whether this is meant to validate the 19th century material, or to remind the viewer that the history of photography is, as Dibbets says, “brief.” But visually the resonance works.
In some cases, like that of Harold E. Edgerton, the work of one photographer spans decades, suggesting a single-minded devotion to a personal “decisive moment.”
Harold E. Edgerton, “Milk Drop Coronet,” 1957, and “Milk Drop Coronet,” 1936
In others, such as Ruff set against Atkins and Karl Blossfeldt’s botanic studies from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, you can’t help but question whether photography has really, um, developed. Or whether the medium achieved some kind of perfection early on – call it Classicism – with subsequent practitioners merely working through Mannerist phases.
To put it another way, whereas painting clearly has developed – the eye of Picasso is different to the eye of Raphael, Francis Bacon learned from and built on the achievements of Velázquez – photography today blithely reproduces the styles of the past. Nowhere more so, of course, than in popular photography – i.e., Instagram – where we rely on on filters to achieve the patina of professionalism, whether that’s the snowy backgrounds of a classic studio shoot or Facetune’s DIY glossy magazine standards of perfection.
This is where you being to realise where Dibbets’ might be going with “Pandora’s Box”…
Thomas Ruff, “neg-stil-03-2015″
Karl Blossfeldt, “Working Collage 33,” 1898-1928
Back to the exhibition. The selection of work on display is unpredictable, mostly abstract, and rather marvellous. The MAM website admits, “It is the scientifically oriented photographers of the 19th century who emerge here as the true visionaries” – which is true, if a bit unfair on Man Ray, Berenice Abbott, et al.
Among others, there are fascinating images by Moholy-Nagy, and Francis Joseph Bruguière – a San Francisco-born protegé of Steiglitz, who made a living for a while shooting for Vogue and Vanity Fair, and who pioneered solarization years before Man Ray.
Francis Joseph Bruguière, “Light Rhythms,” 1930
As the exhibition moves through the 20th century, it gets a bit erratic, like a gyroscope slowing down, a bit random – dipping into Arte Povera with Giuseppe Penone (why?), Walker Evans with Sherrie Levine’s After Walker Evans, with Michael Mandiberg’s After Sherrie Levine, After Walker Evans – the self-referencing takes over.
Walker Evans, “Tenant Farmer Wife (Annie Mae Burroughs, Hale County, Alabama),” 1936
Sherrie Levine, “After Walker Evans,” 1981, and Michael Mandiberg, “After Sherrie Levine, After Walker Evans,” 2004
The last section of the exhibition is about “photographic objects,” and/but is the most challenging section. Exhibits here include fabric pieces, sculpture, and installations, from artists “seeking an extreme expression of the photographic principle.” Some of these, even with the Conceptualist meta-notes, are baffling, others – like Spiros Hajidjanos’ huge aluminium iPhone – wryly amusing.
Spiro Hajidjanos, “Displaced Smartphone,” 2014
In the end, Dibbets’ curation may not be actually diabolical, but it’s certainly mischievous. By showing the timelessness of (some) “old” photographic objects and the uncomfortable direction of (some) “new” photographic objects, he poses the question, What do we expect of photography? Do we look at it as a medium, or as an art form in itself? Photography liberated painting from the obligation to represent reality, but what will liberate photography?
