Apocalypse Not Now
In which I talk about how sometimes photography means the complete opposite of what it was intended to do, and more
This email is overdue. There just have been too many things going on, such as the US election that consumed a lot more of my mental energy than I realised — until Biden was declared the winner. Speaking with people, it became clear how much anguish had been caused by the state of affairs.
In addition, there’s the ongoing pandemic — things are a bit more relaxed where I live after a disastrous spring (Massachusetts has had about 10k deaths so far, which up until recently was more than the number recorded in all of Germany).
And there’s my first photobook, Vaterland, which I spoke about in my previous email. This should have been a joyful occasion, and I should have been in Paris to sign copies, but alas… I guess you can’t choose the times you live in. Regardless, I’ve spent a lot of time on the pre-sale (there still are copies left — if you would like one please be in touch) and on trying to get the word out.
Alex Ross produced a video about the uses of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries in Hollywood movies, and it’s really something you want to watch. This is cultural criticism at its best.
In his analysis, Ross discusses how the music ended up serving a variety of purposes. In the end, though, it inevitably ended up being pulled back to darkness.
I’ve been fascinated and repulsed by the magnetism of the music ever I first saw it used in Apocalypse Now (one of my favourite movies). That scene with the helicopters is overwhelming in a terrifying sense. It’s intended to be critical. But as Ross shows through its use in Jarhead, it could just as easily convey the complete opposite read, where the wanton destruction of a small Vietnamese village is showing the might of the US military.
It’s tempting to think that it’s music that most easily operates that way. But very similar things can be said about certain types of photography as well. In my book Photography’s Neoliberal Realism, one of the photographers I discuss is Andreas Gursky. My read of this artist’s work is very critical. I see it as an example of what I call the neoliberal sublime, whose idea it is to have viewers in awe of neoliberal capitalism, telling her or him that resistance is ultimately futile. I’m certain that’s not how the work was set out to be made. One could argue the complete opposite, which, as far as I understand, is most other critics’ preferred take.
Regardless of what side you find yourself on, the point I want to make here is that photography can run the risk of being intended to be one thing while then doing the complete opposite. There are many examples I can think of, and most of these examples happen to lie in heavily contested areas. This says something about photography: it’s incredibly malleable, and to understand it well, we cannot rely on its makers’ intentions (or their galleries’ PR pieces).
If you’re curious, I had a chat with Lewis Bush about the book, which you can watch in the video above.
This short documentary about (East-)German photographer Harald Hauswald and his retrospective exhibition and Steidl book is well worth your time. Absolutely mind blowing to hear how a single person would become an enemy of the state in East Germany. The bits about the making of the book at/with Steidl are also somewhat interesting (your mileage might vary).
Joanna Cresswell wrote a very touching piece about Richard Billingham’s Ray’s a Laugh. As much as I love the book, it’s deeply disturbing in a variety of ways (I have been working on a longer essay about this and other photobooks for a while). Cresswell ended up writing about her own father, an alcoholic much like Billingham’s, and her own life:
“It was a bizarre life we had, the two of us together. I could tell you about the good days, when we would get into his car and drive to the top of a big hill and bomb down it at top speed to feel our bellies turn over; or I could tell you about the messy house and his missing teeth, and the lowest periods we shared together as he lost his grip. I don’t think it’s the individual moments that matter, though, it’s more about the overarching shape of things. At times I pretended I didn’t know him in public. Shame is a horrible emotion, and I wore it for both of us.”
Very few piece of writing about photography have made me cry. This one did.
I’m about 80% done with this book, and I couldn’t recommend it more. Very poignant, and devastating at times.
OK, that’s enough with the poignancy and devastation for today. When we will look back to what is going on right now — will the passage of time have blunted the impact of the many challenges we’re forced to face? One can hope.
I hope you’re still safe and well, and I hope it will remain that way. Please wear a mask.
As always thank you for reading!
— Jörg
I’m a freelance writer, photographer, and educator currently living and working in the US.
This Mailing List is my attempt to bring back some of the aspects that made early blogging so great -- community engagement and a more relaxed and maybe less polished approach to writing and thinking about photography. You can find the bulk of my main writing on CPhMag.com.
If you like what you read and would like to support my work, you can. Large parts of my work are fuelled by black and green tea, and I appreciate your support very much!
You can also support me by liking this email, by sharing it with others, and/or by emailing me back to tell me what you think. I'd love to hear from you!