Tracking


Tracking, 2005, film, black and white, silent, total running time 18 seconds (left film) and 11 seconds (right film), presented as two nonsynchronous DVDs, looped

Two black and white Super-8 films are presented side by side in Tracking, the left film looking down, the right film looking up. The footage was shot on two consecutive passes while walking a long hallway in a Medical Examiners office. The films are slightly different in both length and speed, consequently allowing the top and bottom portion of the human body to fall in and out of step with one another. The title Tracking potentially refers to the process of following someone’s trail and/or the leaking of current between two insulated points.

Desire Line


Desire Line, 2005, C-print mounted to Sintra and Plexiglas, h 70.5” x w 3” (right image: detailed enlargement)

Desire Line presents the entire cast and crew of a single movie on one vertical support the precise height of the artist. As with the companion video Desire Lines, the title of this piece refers to the landscape architecture term of the same name where the placement of concrete sidewalks is established by the organic paths worn into the landscape by foot traffic.

New Crop: Exactly Two Hundred Fifty Images from the Rhode Island School of Design Archive (Room B03, 20 Washington Street), Volume Three of Eight...


New Crop: Exactly Two Hundred Fifty Images from the Rhode Island School of Design Archive (Room B03, 20 Washington Street), Volume Three of Eight from "Buildings and Open Spaces," Presented in its Entirety and in the Order that Each Was Removed from the Archival Storage Box.

October 15, 2004 – November 15, 2004
Rhode Island School of Design
Red Eye Gallery
30 North Main Street, 4th Floor
Providence, RI 02903

Essay by Ben Carlson: Photographers have been photographing architecture almost since the medium’s invention. The history of modern photography can be traced from Eugene Atget’s photographic albums of turn-of-the-century Paris through August Sander’s photographic catalogue of Cologne. Yet it wasn’t until Ed Ruscha’s snapshots of every building on Sunset Strip and Dan Graham’s banal photographs of suburban New Jersey homes that photography was valued at the price of the other fine arts[1]. As Conceptual Art ushered in what Benjamin Buchloh has called the aesthetic of administration, photography turned towards the archive as a model.

“New Crop,” the current Red Eye Gallery show, is rooted in this shift from individual image to larger archive. In “The Body and the Archive,” Allan Sekula writes, “the archive exists not simply as a material network of territorialized realms of knowledge. The archive also casts its ‘shadow’ as a unifying principle lending coherence across these segregated domains” (October, no. 39: 10).” The archive, as Sekula argues, is not just the sum of the individual images. The archive’s organizational logic has a normative function where each individual image is standardized through its inclusion in the collection. The creation of typologies, such as the Water Towers photographed by the Bechers, or Los Angeles real estate as photographed by Ruscha, is the method by which the archive controls deviance. Any minor variation takes on the greatest significance and becomes the center of the viewer’s attention. With so much the repetitiveness, small variations are that much more apparent. Why is that water tower so different? The archive’s structure sets the limits of what may be included – anything outside its parameters is impermissible, anything else just doesn’t make sense.

In The Archaeology of Knowledge, Michel Foucault defines the archive as “the systems that governs the appearance of statements” (129), meaning that the archive is what determines the terms and limits of what may or may not be said. For an individual image to make sense in the archive it must conform to these typologies. Ed Ruscha’s Various Small Fires and Milk can be read as a test of these limits. Photograph after photograph takes the same, boring studio approach to a variety of small fires. Finally, on the last page we find a startling photograph of a puddle of milk. Why is this photograph so different? Why is this photograph so nonsensical?

The book is an exaggerated example of the archive’s normative function. This normative function is as apparent in the RISD Archive as it is anywhere. The RISD Archive is a way to preserve the memory of the schools buildings and open spaces, but it is also a public relations tool through which the school creates an idealized self-image. In a sense the archive is RISD’s official memory, yet also a construction. The photographs in the archive are taken by professional photographers and are carefully edited to create a particular impression of this institution. Within its precisely controlled structure there are only certain permissible things that may be said. As we can see by looking at New Crop, there are only certain ways that the buildings and open spaces may be photographed if they are to be included in the official memory. How recognizable are the spaces we occupy day after day? What this new crop makes most evident is the divergence between official memory and personal experience.

Essay by Ben Carlson, exhibition organized by J.P. Biondi and Miranda Burch and installed by Dan Noyola and Richard Saunders.

[1] See Jeff Wall’s “Marks of Indifference: Aspects of Photography in, or as, Conceptual Art” for an in depth account of the shift.

Unmoving


Unmoving, 2004, gelatin silver prints mounted to Plexiglas and Sintra, h 10” x w 32”

Unmoving is a panorama comprised of four photographs made in the morgue over the course of a day. Although the panorama is noticeably empty and still, the space was active during the day. The photographs were made during the time in-between numerous autopsies. Alignment discrepancies present in the four images draw attention to the repeated breakdown and setup of the large 8” x 10” camera and consequential repositioning errors – human qualities in an otherwise lifeless environment.

Headrest


Headrest, 2001, gelatin silver print, h 20” x w 16”

The simple curves and surprisingly elegant design of an autopsy headrest disguise the purpose of the device – to hold the cadaver head secure and allow drainage during autopsies. Additionally, the imposing scale of the work contributes in generating tension between the work and the viewer.

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct



In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct, 2004, Marine Plywood, CD player, 2 speakers, audio: total running time 32 seconds, looped, h 5’6” x w 32’ x d 4’9”

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct, 2004, is a 32-foot wide staircase that has been truncated at its third step. The staircase would connect to the upper level of Smack Mellon gallery, were it to continue. It is constructed of Marine Plywood in homage to the minimalist objects that in part inspired it. Speakers hidden beneath the two endpoints faintly play in continuous loop the first few bars of a rendition of Perry Como's Sunrise, Sunset. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Special thanks to Eric Zeszotarski of Solid Studio