Liminal States

I believe we live in a strange time. The hard work of dismantling the “truth” of photography and the faith we place in our sense of vision was taken on by a wide range of artists, from Georges-Pierre Seurat and Man Ray to more contemporary artists like Martha Rosler and Allan Sekula. They rightfully attacked the scientific narrative of photography as understood through a blind faith in vision, undercutting many of the assumptions made by artists and documentarians along the way. It was an important step to broadening the perceived subjectivity of the photograph. Although we are in a time where the veracity of imagery has, to an extent, been subverted, there are, nonetheless, institutions that are built upon a continued belief in a “truth” medium. Journalism, documentary film, as well as anthropological photography and video all infer and depend upon a sense of truth. This faith in the possibility of imaging the thing itself, or the index, as John Szarkowski, former curator of photography for the Museum of Modern Art said, “is naïve and illusory, but it persists.” [1] And though that line was written over 40 years ago, one only has to look at contemporary documentary photographers to see that it still holds true. “I have been a witness, and these pictures are my testimony. The events I have recorded should not be forgotten and must not be repeated.” This is the paragraph that well-known war photographer James Nachtwey uses to introduce visitors to his website. Witness, testimony, record; these are the words of someone who depends upon photography to convey a sense of truth. And while visual journalism is an obvious example of this, there remains art that depends upon a level of communicating truth as well. For instance, the work of Brian Ulrich, Paul Shambroom and Timothy Davis all embrace subjectivity and truth within their photographs. On this subject Tim Davis writes;

What is it to be able to make a complete image instantaneously? It is Art After A.D.D. It is also the perfect Modern, mechanistic pathology: the response to our world–a veritable theme park of Flux–with answers that are complete, edge to edge, and insanely sure of themselves. The camera doesn’t care what it looks at. It knows no history. Presidents are pixels; tragedies flatten. The flip side: EVERYTHING CAN MATTER. Back to that Theme Park of Flux. It’s called America. This is the most historyless place in history. We revise the economy constantly. We revere revision. Nothing is sacred. Look at Carleton Watkins and Timothy O’Sullivan [heroes to this 'unhere]. Not a single man-made structure in their photographs survives. What’d Dorothy Parker call life: “a medley of extemporanea?” America is a symphony of One-Offs. We’re always Supersizing and Downsizing or something. That’s why photographing it matters. [2]

It is clear that Davis recognizes the mechanics of photography that make it an inherently subjective process. Yet, he states a need to photograph as a means to recall what something once looked like, a clear indication that he believes photography is capable of capturing some shred of “truth.” For Davis, photography is as good an option as any in the attempt to capture the index.

How are we to understand this uneasy state between truth and subjectivity that Davis so clearly illustrates? Have institutions like journalism, anthropological photography and documentary film instilled in the western viewer a need or expectation for a truth medium? What now is the role of the viewer in understanding images that are meant to convey a sense of truth? Lastly, is it possible to remain in our current state, to both accept and actively deny subjectivity within the image that infers truth? There may not be clear answers for each one of these questions. Indeed, there probably are not. But they are the questions I am engaging with in my artwork.