14 November 2008

the enigma of eggleston


The above photograph of the tricycle graced the cover of one of William Eggleston's books of photographs and has become one of his most iconic images. The obvious question is, why? It seems so overwhelmingly mundane, and if the focus or the framing or perspective were a bit off, it would likely be something in any old family album from the 60s or 70s. So are we just being duped into thinking it's high art? To tell you the truth, I don't know. I like looking at the photograph, although I would have a hell of a lot of trouble convincing almost anyone that it is "important" or "significant" if I had to do so. (No career as an art critic ahead of me for obvious reasons). 

Did Eggleston meet John Szarkowski, the director of photography at the MOMA, and have a beer with him and develop an immediate and especially tight bond, thus securing Eggleston a place as an "important" photographer? I don't know. But the question that arises over and over again with his photos is how we can rate him as great but at the same time not excavate all the family albums sitting in trunks in attics in search of overlooked "masterpieces." I love his photos, but I must be missing out on so much other great work that was not taken by "serious" photographers. (And now we get into that boring, muddled Foucault bullshit about what an author is, etc). "Eggleston's intentions were different, blah blah blah."

This week's Nueva Jorker (17 Nov) has a nice little piece about Eggleston to coincide with his show at the Whitney.  I think I could probably take some of my old polaroids down to the Whitney and without even trying to be a con-man I could pass them off as Eggleston's and convince them to include them in the show. I don't mean this to sound like I'm taking a piss on Eggleston; I love his work. But the question is constantly looming, what makes one photograph a work of serious art that appears in the Whitney, and one photograph something that sits in a trunk in an attic for decades when in reality they are strikingly similar? 

I'm not saying all this to try to be obnoxious or flippant or to be libelous towards Eggleston, but I'm asking a serious question. What is the game that's going on with the elitism of art in general and photography in particular? Is Eggleston a great photographer because he plays the game of being an artist, like if he were to somehow come across this blog post he would have to say that I'm full of shit and that I simply don't understand, thus perpetuating the game? Or is every thoughtful snapshooting hobbyist on the same level as Eggleston even though he may spend the majority of his time raising his family rather than schmoozing with the elites of the art world? I don't know. The question nags at me. If you are the only one in a cult that challenges the internal dogmas of the cult, guess who gets kicked out of the cult. Then the rest can go on comfortably playing the game without anyone around to question the rules of the game. 

I just simply don't know.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Eggleston was a real challenge for me when I was starting out. I was in photo-j school and the library had an awesome collection of over-sized folio books. I would usually go right to the biggies, The Americans, Magnum collections, Let us now Praise Famous men, etc. I was searching out photos that achieved a kind of transcendence, "this photo is not just this person's story, it implies a greater, collective human story". That was the ultimate goal at the time.
But after retreading the same work for a couple of years I started going through the "art photographers", trying to figure why everyone thought they were so special, i.e. a retrospective at MoMA. Keep in mind that was also the time Mapplethorpe's punishing S&M show was touring. I was really trying to understand why some guy getting fisted was so much more important than Eugene Richards incredible book about crack addiction. I can't say I ever really came to terms with that, but I did end up with a conclusion. Mapplethorpe achieved something beyond photography, they were self-standing art objects that were just as repulsive as they were beautiful. His prints were superior and he shot everything with fine grain B&W film in a 4x5 camera. BUT, the actual subject matter was hardcore gay sex, complete with fluids.

It was that extreme contradiction and contrast that made them so powerful. You didn't know what the fuck to think when you were looking at them, but you sure didn't forget the experience.

Eggleston's work also deals with contradiction, but in a much more sublime way. He often gets credit for making the first great work in color photography. Shooting color at that time was brand new from a consumer perpective. And the driving force behind that was accuracy and "getting photos that were more real". The real push for color technology came from WWII because they needed more accurate surveillance photos for bombing. They needed the highest fidelity document they could produce.

Eggleston took that and went in the opposite direction. Not only did his photos have a complete lack of information, he was antagonizing veiwers who were looking for it. But they were still equally descriptive as those surveillance photos.

He took that fidelity and pointed it at his normal life, which was walking around neighborhoods, going shopping, and just kind of driving around. He ended up with photos in which the mood was just as important as the information. He wasn't trying to explain anything, he was giving emotional information.

He also got a lot of attention as a "southern" photographer. Up to that point, most "southern photography" was in the tradition of Walker Evans, and more importantly, rural. His photos combined rural and suburban into a culture that was just as much Ohio as it was Alabama. Empty crossroads were right next McDonald's and cul-de-sac tricycles.

I like Eggleston's photos because they have enduring emotional payoffs. If you surrender your intellect and just try get a sense of what you feel when you look at it, some of his images can be very powerful in a sublime way.

As for his importance now, he's had a lot of influence on modern photography, especially the Germans. But besides that, his photos have an enduring power that's not limited to when he did them or what they actually depict. The conflict between information and emotion survives.

As for why his are special and a box of banal life photos are not...intent and context. That box of photos might only have meaning to the people who are in them, his photos exist outside of who he is, what was really going on, on who the person is in the photo. (I guess that's the Focault bullshit you were talking about).

My bottom line is that I think his photos are beautiful, enduring and transcend the event depicted. And that's what I was looking for in the first place.