Tag: vibrancy

Steve McCurry Show

I’ll be perfectly honest: I have never attended a photography show before, so I did not know what to expect when I arrived at the Rubin Museum. I suppose I was initially struck with how few photos there were; once I walked through the exhibit, I wanted to see so much more of his work. The photos that were there, though, were incredibly engaging. They were grand not only in scale, but also in the sheer amount of content they contained – most of the pictures contained multiple people or scenes and there was just so much to process as I stood before them. This never made the images feel busy, though; rather, they were awe-inspiringly full of life.

Overall, the best word I can use to describe the show as a whole is vibrant. All of the photos were overwhelmingly colorful. There were bursting pops of color everywhere, whether it was a girl’s clothing, powder from a Holi festival, a painted wall, or a man’s bright beard. The color was intense, and it led me to wonder how much McCurry had enhanced his photos. Never in my life have I seen such bold colors simply existing in nature – does this mean McCurry heightened the intensity of his colors, or should I take this fact as proof that his photography captures something extremely foreign to my personal life experience? I think it may be a little of both.

The colors were not the only factor contributing to the vibrancy of McCurry’s work. The images had an explicitly happy, positive, and hopeful tone. The bright colors aided in conveying this tone, but additionally, a lot of the subjects were smiling, dancing, bounding, or plainly looking content and peaceful. McCurry was not showing hardship. He was not photographing pain or struggle. This could not be more evident than in this photograph, showing an old man with a destroyed sewing machine making his way out of a flood from a monsoon. His sewing machine, perhaps his most significant possession, is completely ruined, and he is up to his neck in water, yet he has an enormous grin on his face. The man looks utterly blissful in spite of his present situation.

man with sewing machine in neck high water

man with sewing machine in monsoon

This image reminded me of one of Haviv’s shots from Blood and Honey which I can only describe as its photographic opposite. They are similar on the surface, but are polar opposites in terms of the mood they covey. Both photos depict an elderly person traveling away from something – the man, probably heading to dry land, and the woman, possibly leaving her home to find a safe refuge. The two people actually look fairly similar – gray hair and worn, wrinkled faces shape their persona. Their lives are seemingly being ruined in the moment the respective photographs were taken – the man is desperately clinging to his broken sewing machine, probably the source of his income, and the woman’s city is overrun with soldiers and war.

old woman with headscarf walking city street

blood and honey – old woman walking from soldiers

As similar as these two photographs physically look, the underlying aura of each is drastically different. The man and his sewing machine look hopeful and truly cheerful – but the woman in Bosnia is devastating to look at. These two opposing moods are representative of the greater works in which they are contained. Blood and Honey is not a positive work; it shows pain, war, and human desolation. Haviv’s photo of the old woman is entirely emblematic of the horror of the story he is trying to tell. McCurry’s photography of India is light and fairly cheery, and the sewing machine man embodies that spirit fully.

In addition to the positivity and vibrance of McCurry’s collection, there is another quality to his work that is more difficult to describe – the photos feel very majestic and nearly other-worldly. To put that in extreme terms, the bright colors and fanciful spirit of the images make them seem like they exist as paintings of a fantasy world. This is evidenced in a large way in McCurry’s image entitled “Blue City.”

blue city rooftops and building sides

blue city: jodhpur, india

This photograph captures the city of Jodhpur, India in all of its bright glory. The buildings, sky, and truly everything about this image are as blue as imaginable. When I first came to this image in the museum, I genuinely stopped and looked at it from every angle possible because I was convinced it was a painting. After research, I learned that this magical blue city certainly does exist – but there are other small details that really struck me that make this photograph so unbelievable. The microscopic yet clear detail is so impressive – I was struck by two separate people standing in their doorways, looking as though they were placed there with the stroke of a paintbrush.

Person in city with blue rooftops and building sides

person in doorway

Silhouette of a person in building doorway

other person in doorway

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first glance, bold color is the only thing the viewer sees when looking at this one of McCurry’s photos. This reminded me of a boldly colored photograph of Haviv’s, his near-perfectly composed shot of blood in snow:

person walking away from blood stained snow and dirt

haviv’s blood and snow

Like McCurry’s blue city photo, initially the only visible feature of this image is the deep, dark red pool of blood. It is shocking and striking. However, upon deep investigation of the image, small details like the people in the doorways of McCurry’s photo are evident. Within the pool of blood, there appear to be at least two distinct sets of footprints. There is a white piece of paper with (as far as I can tell) a black number three printed on it. How many people were involved in producing this red snow? What other clues did they leave behind? The small, mysterious details in both McCurry’s and Haviv’s photo are incredibly enticing – they leave me in awe and with many, many questions.

Steve McCurry’s photographs of India are unbelievably vibrant and truly magical. They provide a remarkably bright look into alluring aspects of Indian culture, and the photos are a reflection of McCurry’s love for the very culture he captured. Although the underlying tone is drastically more cheery, his photos are easily comparable, at least aesthetically, to some of Haviv darkest work. This is a testament to the incredibly striking quality of the photos – regardless of whether the tone is positive or negative, it is conveyed powerfully and beautifully.

A Story of Aesthetics

The Magnum website proved to be as beautiful and easily navigable as the photography on the site. From the simple font and design to the way the posts were separated into blocks, the Magnum website and the photographs draw you in. Although very uninformed about the technicalities of photography and what goes into making a shot aesthetically pleasing, I think that there is not one photo on this site that you could not deem beautiful or captivating. Ironically, although I am not sure that is the right word to use, even the photos of war and pain and corruption were captured in the most attractive, most vibrant, most pleasing ways. But especially through these almost inhumane documentations of horror, I personally was able draw a better focus on the very blurry line between photography and photojournalism.  Photojournalism is unforgiving. It captures raw truth. And beyond being merely visually pleasing, the work of these photographers tell a tale of relevance and gravity far better than CNN, The New York Times, The Atlantic, NPR. Rather than reading or listening to the news, the photography stays still as you find yourself paused in time, across the globe, in the midst of a crisis, a riot, a  singular moment. However, not every photograph captured a pivotal, societal event or crisis; many were documentations of an era–the fashion, the people, the culture–which hold relevant meaning and a story to tell as well. Through these static snapshots, the Magnum Collective does not merely document human history but urges the viewers to never forget, to stay empathetic and to never remain still.

The two photographers that I chose to look at were two female photographers: Eve Arnold and Alessandra Sanguinetti. In the process of choosing photographers I decided I wanted to give my attention to the very small female population in Magnum. I first chose Arnold, who had a quote that caught my attention in her profile: If a photographer cares about the people before the lens and is compassionate, much is given. It is the photographer, not the camera, that is the instrument.” This bolstered my perception of Magnum photographers as the warriors of our world, those who venture out in search of stories in need of being told. Almost evangelically, their photographs spread the gospel of remaining informed and not remaining still. To me, the particular Arnold photograph that embodies this is a gorgeous image of a young Chinese girl and a tired white horse on a beautiful green field lightly sprinkled with white and yellow flowers. Not only is this photo visually beautiful, it is beautifully intriguing. The caption, “CHINA. Inner Mongolia. Horse training for the militia. 1979” completely contradicts the serenity and beauty the photo holds and pulls the viewer into its story. Is this young girl dressed in bright pink really training a horse for war? Was she doing in voluntarily, against her own will? How old is she really? What are her own perceptions of the war? In this moment of utter peace, could there actually be a different story? There is no way not to get lost in the mystery and intrigue. Initially left with but a short caption, the viewer finds himself immersed in a story that urges him to discover more. 

Young woman laying in field with horse

The second photo that really drew me in was a black and white shot of Marlene Dietrich. The photograph is haunting; Dietrich is sitting in a distressed pose, her elbow on her thigh and hand on her cheek–in almost a “The Thinker”-esque pose. On the table in front seems to be a mug and a used tissue. The depth of the distress tugs at your heart, makes you want to comfort the damsel–that is, until you read the caption. The caption describes “Dietrich at the recording studios of COLUMBIA RECORDS, who were releasing most of her songs she had performed for the troops during World War II, including LILI MARLENE, Miss Otis Regrets. She was 51 years old and starting a come-back in show business. It was a wet and cold November night and work could only begin at midnight, at the advise [sic] of Marlene’s astrologer. November 1952.” The caption transform the photo into one of more exhaustion, a worn-out feeling. I could hear her almost sighing, “Why am I here?” The photograph and the caption work to give the viewer a piece of Dietrich’s personality–a mix of haughty stardom but also a worried, superstitious and desperate ex-star.

Woman at table looking away from camera

Whether it be in color or not, have a long caption or not, both of these photographs invite you into their story. In both, Arnold truly captured moments that long to find a viewer who will listen to and search for its story.

Visual storytelling cannot solely be attributed to Arnold. Quite honestly, I believe it is embedded in the essence of photojournalism. Through Book 1 of her photo journal “The Adventures of Guille and Belinda…” Alessandra Sanguinetti, the second photographer I chose, captures snapshots of two girls’ lives. Of the two photos that especially stood out to me, the one of Guille standing next to a large hydrangea bush with her face hidden among the leaves. It wasn’t particularly the odd situation at hand that really drew me in; it was the colors–the faded blues, the subtle pinks, the deep greens. With the stunning color scheme and the peculiar, silly, very animated pose, the photo is just fun–and fun to look at. All of them are actually. All the photos in this particular photo story captivate you with color and scenes of companionship and femininity within the confines of a square. My second favorite photo was also in the same photo journal. It shows Guille and Belina, two girls of opposite body figures, floating with their eyes closed in a beautiful blue body of water. They hold flowers in their hands which really reminded me of the painting Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais. Once again, this odd scene paired with the beautiful colors make the photo impossible to not look at and just enjoy. The story Sanguinetti tells through her photographs is one that evokes a happy feeling, a story of innocence and the beauty of youth. Her images are purely lovely and portrays her two characters into a lovable pair, much like Wallace and Gromit.

Woman smelling flowers in large bush       Two young women laying river with flowers in their hands