The two pictures in the post are from the archives.
They were made when I was photographing around the Port Adelaide /Osborne area on the Lefevre Peninsula (north west of Adelaide's CBD) in the 1980s. The photography would be interpreted as a mirror with a memory as the photos represent a part of the history of industrial Adelaide that is being marked by absence.
This picture is of the Port River estuary and it is looking across the river to the suburb of Taperoo and the Penrice Soda ash plant, Osborne. The gas-fired Torrens Island Power Station is just outside the right side of the frame.
The Penrice Soda Holdings Ltd company, which was established in the 1930s, went into receivership round 201 and its Osborne soda ash plant has been decommissioned and dismantled. The remediation of the site is ongoing. Most of the area along both sides of the Port River have been closed off to the public -- ie., the land has been privatised. I would not be able to make the above photo today.
]]>This is a local southern Fleurieu Peninsula view that I see on those days when I drive up Willunga Hill from Encounter Bay on my way to walk in the local Waitpinga bushland with one of the standard poodles. We are looking across the grazing land of a local farm to rain falling on the southern ocean.
I had scoped the view a number of times with both a digital camera and a 35m film camera --- an expired Velvia 50 version can be seen on this post . I chose an overcast wintry day for the large format photo session using the 5x7 Cambo S3 monorail as I wanted some atmospherics.
I have struggled with a poorly developed/underdeveloped colour negative from the professional lab. The colour was all washed out. The initial scan looked awful -- the post processing has a substantial amount increased saturation and contrast whereas I normally do the opposite.
]]>I came across the image below whilst going through the archives looking for photos that I'd made in April 2022 when we stayed overnight in accommodation behind the coffee shop at Natimuk. We were on our way back to Encounter Bay in South Australia from walking in Wilson's Promontory in Victoria.
I'd forgotten about the image below which I'd made on my first visit to this part of western Victoria. It is of Castle Craig at Mt Arapiles (known traditionally as Dyurrite by the Djurid Balud clan of the Wotjobaluk people) and it was made pre-Covid with the 5x4 Linhof Technika IV Some other colour images from Mt Arapiles are here.
Mt Arapiles, which is in the Mt Arapiles-Tooan State Park near Natimuk, is a large rock outcrop overlooking the Wimmera plains and surrounded by the agricultural country. It is a well known international climbing spot.
]]>Living on the coast of the southern Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia has meant that I've become familiar with both the local, banal or unscenic bushland that is considered unworthy of aesthetic attention, and making large format landscapes of this region. Since the past three decades have witnessed a growing awareness of climate change and its impacts on people and the natural environment, photographing nature needs to take this impact into account. How to do that with a camera and a lens is something that I struggle with without resolving.
The two pictorial realist photos in this post are ones that look at the non-human world in the context of what is happening to nature in the context of the background climate heating. A first attempt, as it were, to link landscape photography and climate heating, to push the traditional centre of the human experience and the human aesthetic preferences aside and to initiate a photography of mourning within the tradition of landscape photography.
This has made me aware of my unease with the views of those who hold that we live in a post-natural world. A post-natural world means that nature is no longer independent of human activity. The world we inhabit is the one we humans have made.The cultural concept for this new planetary epoch is the Anthropocene condition in which the geological strata we are now creating record industrial emissions, industrial-scale crop pollens, and the disappearance of species driven to extinction. This cultural concept is used by many to describe an era of accelerating human impacts such as climate change and biodiversity loss.
However, if climate change is the emblematic crisis of the neo-liberal Anthropocene, turning the world’s climate into a joint human-natural creation, then nature is still ontological independent of humans --- it existed before us and will likely go on existing after us. Though the world we inhabit will be one that we have helped to make, and in ever-intensifying ways, there is no need reject terms such as the natural world. By “the natural world,” we mean the material structures and processes of the non-human world. So we should say nature is no longer unaffected by human activity. Humans are dependent on nature but nature is not dependent on humans. Nature will continue to exit without us and will produce new species and forms of life without human intervention. .
]]>A historical post with two large format photos of wetlands in South Australia from the archives.
Traditionally art photography has been foundationally tied to the fine print as this provided the aesthetic criteria that enabled photography for find a place in an art gallery/museum. Tying photography foundationally to the fine print was especially important for the large format photographers in Australia from the 1970s onward, especially so for the photography circles around The Photography Gallery at 344 Punt Road in South Yarra, Melbourne.
This foundation was historically significant as it ensured that photography became part of art's traditional value system that was centred around authenticity and originality. Photography's entry was an event of the new that then required a readjustment and re-evaluation of the boundaries of art's traditional value system.
If history is all there is then we belong to this tradition, which holds that art is something that challenges and breaks with our usual comportment towards things. We cannot disregard this tradition, simply leave it behind, overturn it, or dismiss it as an error. We can, however, reinterpret this tradition as distorted, or as having its legitimacy reduced, in the sense that the photographic print was but one of photography's reproductive forms.
(Wetlands, Hindmarsh River, Victor Harbor. Cambo 5x7 monorail, Schneider-Kreuznach 210mm, Kodak Portra 160)
Photography's multiple reproductive forms historically included slide and video projection and, currently there are different technological forms of monitor display. Today, with the emergence of the networked digital image, the print is but one of photography reproductive forms. So the photographic tradition's foundational emphasis on the print is a distorted one. Perhaps photography no longer needs foundations to justify its status as art?
Multiple reproductive forms of photography in our contemporary digital culture suggests that, if that the photographic image need no longer be foundationally tied to the reproductive form of the print, then we need shift to thinking about the photographic image as image instead of the photographic image as print.
This is an important shift given the massive circulation of images associated with the emergence of the digital image associated with the host media technologies such as computers, internet, video games mobile devices. Our world is saturated with moving or circulating images of all kinds including prints. We are moving towards a world where everyday life and digital technology seamlessly blur. It appears that with immersive video the internet is moving off our screens and into the world around us as spatial computing given that Vision Pro and other “passthrough” headsets brings VR content into our real-world surrounding so we see what’s around us while using the device.
]]>I find it difficult to make colour photos of the coast of the southern Fleurieu Peninsula that avoid the all pervasive tourist style of imagery.
The power of the visual image has long been employed to great effect by the advertising industry to sell product. The tourism industry is no exception. It sells leisure, fun and the holiday experience in extra-ordinary locations away from the world of work. Hence the idea of the tourist gaze and the pictures of landmarks, waterfalls, animals, and empty beaches The relationship between commercial photography and tourism is extremely close, if not fundamentally integrated.
How is it possible to make an effective photographic project around climate change and the environment in the era of the Anthropocene is a question I keep stumbling over. It is a question that I have yet to find an answer to.
One option is to photograph in black and white. Another option is explore is to experiment. One possibility here is to harm or damage the image in some way-- eg., in the form of multiple exposure. My double exposure didn't really work. My second experiment was to move the camera slightly during the exposure of this photo of the coastline to Kings Head and Beach in Waitpinga:
Another possibility in harm intervention is mark making in the form of scratching and wounding the surface of the images to speak to the negative impact that climate change is having on nature --- forests, coastlines, wetlands, rivers etc Multiple exposure and camera shift enable me to step outside the tourist style.
]]>The concept behind this post was to explore the relationship between photography and time.
The common sense or naïve conception of time understands temporality as a constant stream of now-moments, or a succession of nows that come into being and pass away. Multiple now-moments strung out in a line. The traditional conception of time as a continuous series of “nows” can be found in Aristotle.
Still photography is traditionally seen as a slice of time, and in the context of the naive conception time this photo would be interpreted as now moments . The now moment when the shutter of the 5x4 Sinar camera was realised. Time, on this account, is an object that stands apart from us. It is calculative or clock time.
This image though is an attempt to explore temporality as an interweaving of past, present, and future. The future in the sense of what is looming ahead, or what is already on its way. What is on its way is the ongoing decay and breakdown of the log, twigs and leaves.
]]>Below is an early large format conceptual photo using the carpark of the Adelaide Central Market as a location:
Looking back I can see that it referred to the concept of the sublime that permeates our culture as complex emotional configurations. The sublime has different understandings in the history of our culture, but since Edmund Burke and Immanuel Kant it is usually contrasted with, or seen as the opposite of, the concept of beauty in aesthetics.The aesthetic of the sublime usually refers to a boundary, threshold or limit that divides the knowable, familiar world and the spheres of the unknown. The sublime in aesthetics is associated with broaching limits and is traditionally situated in the sphere of the unknown or the infinite.
]]>After I left living in Adelaide's CBD and moved down to live on the southern coast of the Fleurieu Peninsula in Victor Harbor I started to photograph the remnants of the local roadside vegetation. The bushland and the roadside vegetation in this region largely consisted of pink gums (Eucalyptus fasciculosa) and grass trees (Xanthorrhoea). I was finding the remnant bush and the sporadic road side vegetation hard to photograph as it was so messy and dense.
This was one of my first large format photos of roadside vegetation in colour:
I showed this image, and the companion one over the page, to colleagues in Adelaide. They were quite scornful and dismissive; a reaction that was made without giving any considered reasons for why these images needed to be rejected as of no interest. Was this because the images were in colour? Or that they mediocre, images lacking creativity? Formless and pretty? The subject matter was unfashionable? The subject matter was regional and not universal? I had to guess the reasons.
I did suspect that making landscape photography was a no no in art circles as straight landscape photography was considered to be culturally conservative as well as being very unfashionable. It was old fashioned and so akin to living in the past. Landscape photography was largely irrelevant in the art world, and there is a disconnect between popular landscape photography and art photography.
]]>This is another of the early large format urban photos that I did whilst we were living in the CBD of Adelaide. It was made around the same time ( 2013-14) as this one, and it was from the same Rundle St car Park in Adelaide's east end as this photo. I spent a lot of time looking at the city's urban textures from the top floors of various car parks.
At the time I was interested in the new architecture emerging out of the old. A provincial city in transition was the idea that informed the urban large format and I had a sense that I could photograph urban history in the architecture.
]]>The pictures below are from the archives. I have only just re-discovered them.
The first one is from the early 1990s whilst I was on a road trip in a VW Kombi along the River Murray through the Riverland area of South Australia. Prior to buying the Kombi I only knew Adelaide from walking around the city. The Kombi enabled me to go on roadtrips to get to know the rural country.
The location of the photo is near Moorook on the Sturt Highway. I was driving by and stopped to make the photo with a Cambo 5x7 (S3) monorail:
The location is near the Moorook Game Reserve and the Wachtels Lagoon. A game reserve means that waterfowl and duck hunting is permitted on open days at certain times of the year (March to June).
]]>The photo below is the first photo of a silo I made on a road trip using the Cambo 5x7 S3 monorail after I'd restarted large format photography from a 2 decade absence or more. The underground current of roadtrip photography in Australia does include images made with a large format camera.
The silo was near Kwong on the Sturt Highway west of Wagga Wagga in NSW. It was in 2015 a year or so after my Edgeland exhibition at Manning Clark House in Canberra in 2014. It was a road trip that connected back to those I'd done in the 1980s. I was happy to be on the road with the large format camera once again. When I saw the silo near an old, disused railway line with the overcast sky I thought that it would make a good subject for the Cambo:
I didn't know about the problem of bellows yaw then, which was caused by raising the monorail's front standard too high. When I scanned the negative I was so disappointed and frustrated. How come I didn't see the black semicircle at the bottom of the ground glass of the camera when I was composing the photo?
]]>The CitiCentre picture below is one of my early large format elevated photos of Adelaide's CBD. It is rough and I have never shown it publicly. It was made at a time when I was living Sturt St in the CBD, and I'd just started to explore making urban large format photographs of Adelaide. At the time I didn't know of any working Australian large format photographers who was making urban images of the CBD of the capital cities. Though I knew of the early black and white photos that Grant Mudford made in the 1970s I didn't realise at the time that they were made with 35mm film and not with his Sinar 5x4.
I distinctly remember the process of making the CitiCentre photo: it was in the late afternoon that I carried the 5x7 gear to a tram stop, caught the tram to Rundle Mall, walked through the crowds of shoppers in Rundle Mall, then going up the lift to access the top floor of the ugly car park on the corner Rundle and Pulteney Sts. The location had been scoped beforehand -- it has to be prior to making a decision to make a picture.
The location was the U carpark that replaced the Foy and Gibson building that was demolished in the 1970s. The car park had iron bars or railings that allowed you to put the lens of a handheld camera through. Most of the new car parks in Adelaide's CBD are now covered in mesh and it is impossible to photograph through the mesh. However, I wasn't really sure that I would be able to get the camera lens of the 5x7 Cambo momorail through the iron bars/railings of the car park in order to make the photo. To my relief I could.
This was a decade ago and I had just started thinking about a project of photographing Adelaide -- a project that would m eventually evolve into Walking Adelaide several years latter. At the time I was just making photos and still thinking in terms of the purity of the image the modernist idea of uniqueness and medium specificity and the white cube. A photograph of a building in the city is a photograph. It's not the building anymore.
The process dominated at that early stage.I just counted myself lucky if I could get the 5x7 monorail camera to a chosen location and made a photo. I did know that what I was trying to do was not architectural photography of the latter Grant Mudford.
]]>How can you photograph the landscape in the era of the Anthropocene in a way that addresses the future that is already coming?
The photo below was an attempt in 2022 to try and represent the movement of hanging bark caused by the wind within the context of the strangeness of the local bush in Waitpinga in the Fleurieu Peninsula of South Australia. It was in the early morning during early autumn, when there was a light breeze gently moving the bark. The blur was designed to step away from the picturesque or the tourist style.
The method chosen was a double exposure of one 5x7 sheet of film and 2 long exposures of around 40 seconds each. The composition had been pre-determined with some earlier scoping with a digital camera.
Alas, the experiment did not work at all. Failure.
The tonality of the photo turned out to be utterly different to what I'd pre-visualized and planned for. I couldn't believe what I was seeing when I scanned the negative. "What the hell" was my immediate response. I was dumbfounded. Then, when I realised the scan was okay, a wave of embarrassment surged through me. This was such a long way from the quality standards of the large format culture.
]]>This post on Mono No Aware in traditional Japanese Zen aesthetics picks up on this previous post about wabi sabi and my large format photography. This bushland photography in Waitpinga bushland on the southern Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia was a little project during 2002 that was done on the early morning poodlewalks with Kayla.
That earlier post highlighted how Wabi and sabi emphasise contentment and the acceptance of imperfection as a result of the ravages of time. Mono No Aware, in contrast, refers to awareness and acceptance of the ephemeral of life. The “pathos” (aware) of “things” (mono), derives from their transience. The underlying idea is transience and impermanence in life. It is an acceptance of perishability as opposed to the traditional preference for permanence.
The most frequently cited example of mono no aware in contemporary Japan is the traditional love of cherry blossoms of the Japanese cherry trees. These are intrinsically no more beautiful than those of, say, the pear or the apple tree: they are more highly valued because of their transience, since they usually begin to fall within a week of their first appearing.
The fleeting moment in the bushland was the early morning light:
The light was ephemeral: it lasted on this branch of the pink gum for a minute or so before disappearing. I knew the time it happened in the early morning during the early winter months and I would have the 5x4 Linhof Technika IV set up on its tripod waiting. Often I would have the camera set up but the clouds would drift at the crucial moment and there was no light on the branch.
]]>During the Xmas/New Year holiday period I was able to do some large format (5x4) photography in and around Petrel Cove at Victor Harbor on the southern Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia. As this is my local area it is easy for me to get to the location and set up the camera before sunrise, which is just after 6am.
The conditions in this area changed over the holiday period. The River Murray's flood waters have reached the southern ocean and, as a result, the seawater around the coast of Victor Harbor has become quite brown and full of weed. The gusty, gale force, south westerly winds in the first week of January created a lot of foam along both the foreshore in Petrel Petrel Cove and along the western coast rocks to Dep's Beach and beyond.
at Petrel Cove: Sinar f1, black and white film:
On a couple of mornings it was impossible to walk along the coast rocks around from Petrel Cove as the waist high foam covered the littoral zone up to the base of the cliffs. The foam was very sandy.
]]>This archival coastal image of tree roots on the edge of the lagoon at American River on Kangaroo Island in South Australia was part of a bunch of 5x4 colour negatives (Portra 160 ASA) that Atkins Lab -- a commercial photo lab in Adelaide -- cross processed in E6 processing by mistake.
I was pretty upset at the time and I wrote about the episode here. The cross processed files remained in the archives and were ignored. What has changed since then is that I've been seeing a variety of the hand crafted alternative processing images in the online exhibitions hosted by View Camera Australia. I found these images fascinating as they opened up a different way of doing photography to the perfection path I'd been engaged in.
Though I admired the work I was seeing in the online exhibitions I judged that the alternative processing pathway wasn't for me. I have enough problems with large format photography per se without taking a portable darkroom into the field as well and taking 3 years or more to become proficient in the process. The slow process of large format film photography has enough imperfection and unpredictability to act as counter balance to the computational digital for me.
What I did was to take another look at the ignored archival cross processed files but tI did so from the perspective of alternative processing. They actually looked ok.
]]>On a recent road trip to Melbourne I stayed overnight at Mt Arapiles. We had been walking for a week or so in Wilson's Promontory in early 2022, and we were making our way back to Encounter Bay in South Australia, after staying a few days in Melbourne. The reason for the overnight stay at Mt Arapiles was that I wanted to make a few b+w 8x10 photos of some trees in the flat land in front of the imposing cliff-face.
I had initially visited and explored Mt Arapiles a few years earlier with the now defunct Melbourne-based Friends of the Photography Group that was run by David Tatnall. I was impressed by Mt Arapiles then and I promised myself that if I had any spare time on any subsequent road trips to Melbourne I would try to arrange things so that I could tarry a while at Mt Arapiles and wander around the state park. I had several trees in mind that I wanted to photograph.
This photo of an old pink gum log lying on the roadside next to the local Waitpinga bushland represented a significant moment for me as a photographer. It was a turning point in the practice of my large format photography, when I really was on the point of giving the 5x7 format away.
It was a a significant moment for several reasons. Firstly, this was when I started to consciously see nature (ie., the bush) in terms of change and transience. Nature was not unchanging or timeless (what has always been); nor was it purely a social or cultural construct. It has its own dynamical processes (eg., decay) even if I couldn't see the processes of things passing away and then them not being there any more.
Secondly, the image is significant because it was with the negative of this image that I finally figured out how to scan 5x7 colour negatives on a flatbed Epson scanner; and then to post process them in Lightroom to obtain a reasonable looking image. One that was other than beauty, and which avoided the problematic mystification of nature in environmental philosophy.
Thirdly, I connected to the Japanese aesthetic of wabi sabi, whose emphasis on the acceptance of transience and imperfection, provided a counter to postmodernism in Australia. The characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, and modesty. History is a big part of wabi-sabi and the wearing needs to come with actual age and the influence of time. The presence of cracks, splintering and decay in things are considered to signify the passing of time and the weather.
]]>The two photographs below are an experiment.
At the time I was trying to obtain a washed-out or bleached, high summer look. The photographs are of nothing much, the technique I used was overexposure, and the camera was a 1960's heavy metal Super Cambo 8x10 monorail, a Schneider-Kreuznach 240mm lens and a Pronto shutter.
The photo below is of the mouth of the Hindmarsh River at Victor Harbor on the Fleurieu Peninsula of South Australia:
A behind the camera photo whilst I was on location for a large format photo session earlier this year.
The camera, for those interested, is an old 5x7 Super Cambo monorail from the early 1960s. The location is the eastern side of Rosetta Head, Victor Harbor, in South Australia. The time was around late February 2022 -- which is the cusp of summer/autumn in South Australia.
I was photographing light, clouds and sea at Encounter Bay that morning. I was fortunate that there was no north or south-easterly wind blowing. The coastal winds had been particularly strong and persistent in the late summer, and they continued throughout the autumn and winter months. Rosetta Head can be, and usually is buffeted, by the coastal winds which makes large format photography difficult.
]]>The picture below of roadside vegetation in Waitpinga on the southern Fleurieu Peninsula was an attempt to ensure that the process of making a photos with the 8x10 Cambo monorail was successful. I wanted to nail it down in light of all the issues I'd been having -- with the shutter, the limited lens coverage, vignetting from bellows yaw, poor development of the film and Newton rings when scanning.
My experience was one of a continual series of flaws that got in the way of trying to do something with the 8x10 style of photography. Since nothing was working properly I wanted to sort out the dam problems I was experiencing by getting the technique under control. In desperation I simplified everything down so that I could make a picture that wasn't deeply flawed. It's a bit like being in a workshop or a construction site with being a mechanic.
Hence this representation of a tree in the roadside vegetation in my local neighbourhood:
I wanted to get things working right so that I could start to shift my photography away from a reflection of what exists towards a photography that would start to stimulate us to reconfigure our interaction with the world; to try and develop a photography that leads to new sensations and stimulates new ways of seeing and being.
]]>The pictures below of melaleucas at Rosetta Head (Kongkengguwar) in Victor Harbor were my early attempts to start photographing my local neighbourhood in the Fleurieu Peninsula using the 8x10 Cambo monorail. This vintage camera -- it's an all metal Super Cambo IV from the early 1960s --- was purchased in the 1980s when I was living in Bowden, Adelaide. I came across it lying unwanted in a cardboard box in the corner of a camera shop in Semaphore, Adelaide. At the time this suburban camera shop had the Sinar franchise.
I only used the Cambo a couple of times in Bowden because there were holes in the bellows and the shutter was corroded. It sat in the cupboard unused. Around 2010 I renovated it: a new bellows, the 240mm Symmar lens was repaired and cleaned, the old "electronic" shutter was replaced with a second hand Pronto professional shutter and a wooden case was built to store the camera when it was not in use. I was ready to go. I was eager to reconnect with the large format photography in the Bowden Archives project of the 1980s/1990s, and to break new ground.
At this stage (circa 2014-5) I had no darkroom and no way of processing the negatives at home, even though I did have an Epson flat bed scanner to make digital files. I had given away the idea of a darkroom in favour of converting the negatives into digital files, processing the files in Lightroom, and posting the image on the internet. The idea was that selected images could be digitally printed for exhibitions using a master printer.
Old and new technology. The best of both worlds. I was excited by the possibilities being opened by this hybrid approach to print making in the 21st century.
]]>When we were living in Sturt St in Adelaide's CBD we spent a lot of time walking the standard poodles in the Adelaide Park Lands --usually a couple of times a day and at different times of the day and night. I came to love being in them, and I celebrated that they had received National Heritage Listing in 2008. Surprisingly, they have yet to be listed as a State Heritage Area by the state government. The latter has been procrastinating for a decade or more.
What caught my eye in the parklands were the Morton Bay Figs. They were impressive trees, and there weren't that many of them. There was not enough water to nourish them during Adelaide's long, hot summer months and they often became stressed towards the end of the summer.
There were only a few occasions that I walked into the southern parklands with the 5x7 Cambo monorail and heavy Linhof tripod from our townhouse in Sturt St to make some photos. The archives indicate that I only made a few images and these were of the trunks of the Morton Bay Figs.
The reason for the lack of photos was that I didn't really know what I was doing with large format photography in the parklands. I vaguely sensed photography’s incapacity to offer significant understanding of the historical and social narratives of place. I did, however, have a loose concept premised on the violence in the parklands in the form of gay bashings, rapes, murders, bashings of aboriginal people and a strong police surveillance mostly against the aboriginal people.
The loose idea was that of a female body in torn clothes (not a naked female body) lying on the ground and I would use the two above images as "stage sets" and situate a female body with torn clothes in the background of the photo. i thought that this male violence against women walking in a public space would be a supplement to the Adelaide project, as the parklands are just as central to Adelaide's urban identity as Colonel Light's metropolitan design of straight and narrow. The aim of the supplement was to counter the old colonial idea of Adelaide as paradise on earth.
]]>Prior to moving to Victor Harbor and the coast of the southern Fleurieu Peninsula in 2015 we lived in a townhouse in Adelaide's CBD for a decade or more. It was easy for me to wander the streets of the CBD with a digital and medium format camera on various poodlewalks. Slowly, ever so slowly as I got to know the city I began to start using a large format camera (an old Cambo 5x7 SC3 monorail) to photograph the streets.
The locations chosen were within easy carrying distance from the townhouse as I was carrying the gear. An example is this picture of Mill St, Adelaide, 2012, which was just a block away from where I lived in Sturt St.
The initial results were not good. I was embarrassed, then discouraged. It was just so different from walking the streets with a hand held medium format camera. I kept asking myself what was I trying to do with using large format, apart from making an individual photo? I had no idea. The camera had been used for the Bowden Archives project in the 1980s and it was sitting in a cupboard. So I decided to use it.
]]>I remember that photographing this rock formation at Kings Head, Waitpinga with a large format camera (5x4) was a disconcerting experience. It was probably 6 years ago, just after we had shifted to living on the coast of the southern Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia, and I was photographing in my local area.
It started me thinking about the landscape tradition. Though I'd studied this rock formation a number of times before deciding to photograph it, the photographic act was not as simple as pointing the camera at an object in front of the camera and taking a photo. There was the time and effort involved in carrying the equipment to the location, then the time and effort making the photo. The latter was over an hour as I waited for the sun to go off the rock. Slowly I became aware of being in nature rather than outside it. In the time that it took to make the photo I became aware of nature changing around me, as well as noticing the weathering marks on the rocks.
Slowly the large format photographic event became about the experience of being in nature: that is becoming aware of the wind, sea spray, the sounds of the waves and the gulls, the heat reflected from the rocks onto the human body, the clouds covering and uncovering the sun, and the ever changing light; rather than being the photographer standing as an outside observer gazing upon the form of the coastal rock formation.
So what to make of this embodied experience of large format photographing? What did it mean in terms of the history of the landscape tradition in Australia? Did it mean anything, given that this was, and is, the traditional land of the Ngarrindjeri people? This is where the sealers and whalers stationed on Kangaroo Island prior to 1836 grabbed and made off with the women from the Ngarrindgeri people.
What would it be like to photograph this country from the perspective of the Ngarrindgeri people after land rights I wondered?
]]>One of the consolations of struggling with large format photography is that a narrative of art that had been objectively stated in the history of art, had come to an end. We large format photographers now live in an art world defined by the internet -- art objects are created with a consciousness of these networks within which it exists from conception and production to dissemination and reception. Internet art defies the conventional art museum/gallery model that has dominated the art world for so long. Though photographers continue to exhibit their work in galleries, screens like computers, iPads and smartphones are now the primary mode by which contemporary art is seen.
Art history is generally thought of as a linear progression of one movement or style after another (Romanticism, Realism, Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, Cubism, Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism etc.), punctuated by the influence of individual geniuses (Delacroix, Courbet, Monet, Cézanne, Manet, Picasso, Pollock etc … ). Our perception of art was based on a linear, historical progression of one stylistic approach after another. This is a narrative (a certain linear development ) as distinct from a chronicle (x happens, then y happens, then z, and so on).
The above art historical narrative is over in that a developmental sequence of events in art historical development has come to an end. This end, roughly marks the shift between modernist and contemporary art, and the emergence of an awareness that art can be made of anything. That means there is no single meta narrative for the future of art. This liberates a large format photography of nature presented on the internet from its disenfranchisement by the curation in the conventional art museum/gallery model, which is primarily concerned with the core question of defining what art is. Historically, large format photography of nature was excluded by the curators in the art institution.
]]>In his book of essays entitled Why People Photograph: Selected Essays and Reviews (Aperture, 1994) Robert Adams says that "art is too important to confuse with interior decoration or an investment opportunity. Its real use… is to affirm meaning and thus “to keep intact an affection for life”.
This is a succinct and useful insight can be unpacked by referring back to the idea of the autonomy of art: namely, that art was a distinct modality of making sense of things, and that this way of making sense was sensible: ie., a mode of non-discursive intelligibility, which does not consist in propositions, arguments, and syllogisms.
The Jena Romantics ( eg.,Novalis, August and Frederick Schegel) held that the autonomy of art is meant to connect the aesthetic mode of making sense of things that are deeply important to us with the highest human aspirations for self-understanding and the realization of freedom. They held that this making sense of ourselves through art was more important than the conscious deliberative capacities of individual subjects. Where philosophy ends art begins for unlike philosophy art presents its ideas in sensuous form. Art, on this account, is an ontologically distinct object of experience.
This continental aesthetic tradition, which runs through Schiller, Hegel, Nietzsche, and the Frankfurt School up to the present day, is fundamentally different from the notion of autonomy that has been properly labeled conservative; namely, the l’art pour l’art, or “art for art’s sake” eg.,through 19th century aestheticism (Baudelaire, Pater, Wilde), via the significant form of the Bloomsbury tradition of Roger Fry and Clive Bell, the latter Greenberg and then Hilton Kramer and the New Criterion in the US. In this Anglo-Saxon tradition all art has to do in order to be worthy is to be beautiful. There is no purpose, function, or end served by being beautiful other than being beautiful, and one takes a certain pleasure in the irrelevant nobility of the existence of beautiful things.
In the first essay in his Why People Photograph entitled 'Colleagues' Adams advances one reason for the above difficulty I was encountering. He says that when "photographers get beyond copying the achievements of others, or just repeating their own accidental first successes, they learn that they do not know where in the world they will find pictures. Nobody does.”
For sure.
]]>This post breaks with the initial historical approach to this minor weblog about the trials and tribulations of the practice of large format photography in Australia in an increasingly digital world.
The photo below is a behind the camera photo made in 2021 when I was at Lorne with the Friends of Photography Group (FOPG). It was made in the Otway National Forest, whilst we were on our return to Encounter Bay. The location is near Joanna Beach, which is between Apollo Bay and Lavers Hill on the western edge of Cape Otway. I had wanted to explore the coastal rocks around Blanket Bay and Point Franklin, but time had run out. That is for another photo trip whilst en-route to Melbourne.
The specific location of the photo is the Aire Settlement Road. I was looking for the Old Ocean Road but I made the wrong turn. No matter. The Aire Settlement Road is easy to access and I could quickly set up the 5x7 Cambo monorail on the side of the road by the car. I had seen this particular road on an earlier trip, when I had briefly photographed along the nearby Old Ocean Road. I had remembered that photo session and I had always wanted to return to the Otways.
(You can see a larger version of the photos in the post by clicking on the photo).
Though this photo is a self portrait, it is really a momento of FOPG's Lorne field trip and a good bye to FOPG. FOPG disbanded just after their weekend Lorne trip in March 2021. The FOPG website has gone. Since it would not have been archived by the National Library of Australia, the group only exists in people's memories, and these fade over time. (I will publish some of the large format photos that I made on that field trip latter as they still need to be developed by Atkins Lab in Adelaide).
]]>I basically walked away from the Currency Creek project. I couldn't figure out how to conceptually continue with it. It didn't grow into a project as I'd hoped, mainly because I found it too hard designing different situations and activities with models along the different parts of the creek.
I decided to take a different approach. I would just concentrate on intuitively making a few photos, put the conceptual stuff in the background, and then see what emerged. I choose the coastal interface at Port Willunga. It was a landscape where nature meet or interacted with human society.
The ruined Port Willunga jetty is a tourist icon. The sticks of the jetty, when Port Willunga was once a grain port, are much photographed from the shore. The sticks or pylons butting out from the eroding sandstone cliffs are an icon of local, tourist photography.
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