Nikolai Baharev

Found this. One can understand something about that insane country from these photographs

poetry

While browsing the blogosphere I found this piece of poetry by Larry Levis dedicated to this Koudelka's photograph:



SENSATIONALISM

In Josef Koudelka’s photograph, untitled & with no date
Given to help us with history, a man wearing
Dark clothes is squatting, his right hand raised slightly,
As if in explanation, & because he is talking,
Seriously now, to a horse that would be white except
For its markings – the darkness around its eyes, muzzle,
Legs & tail, by which it is, technically, a gray, or dapple gray,
With a streak of pure white like heavy cream on its rump.
There is a wall behind them both, which, like most walls, has
No ideas, & nothing to make us feel comfortable…
After a while, because I know so little, &
Because the muted sunlight on that wall will not change,
I begin to believe that the man’s wife and children
Were shot & thrown into a ditch a week before this picture
Was taken, that this is still Czechoslovakia, & that there is
The beginning of spring in the air. That is why
The man is talking, & as clearly as he can, to a horse.
He is trying to explain these things,
While the horse, gray as those days at the end
Of winter, when days seem lost in thought, is, after all,
Only a horse. No doubt the man knows people he could talk to:
The bars are open by now, but he has chosen
To confide in this gelding, as he once did to his own small
children, who could not, finally, understand him any better.
This afternoon, in the middle of his life & in the middle
Of this war, a man is trying to stay sane.
To stay sane he must keep talking to a horse, its blinders
On & a rough snaffle bit still in its mouth, wearing
Away the corners of its mouth, with one ear cocked forward to listen,
While the other ear tilts backward slightly, inattentive,
As if suddenly catching a music behind it. Of course,
I have to admit I have made all of this up, & that
It could be wrong to make up anything. Perhaps the man is perfectly
Happy. Perhaps Koudelka arranged all of this
And took the picture as a way of saying
Good-bye to everyone who saw it, & perhaps Josef Koudelka was
only two years old when the Nazis invaded Prague.
I do not wish to interfere, Reader, with your solitude –
So different from my own. In fact, I would take back everything
I’ve said here, if that would make you feel any better,
Unless even that retraction would amount to a milder way
Of interfering; & a way by which you might suspect me
Of some subtlety. Or mistake me for someone else, someone
Not disinterested enough in what you might think
Of this. Of the photograph. Of me.
Once, I was in love with a woman, & when I looked at her
My face altered & took on the shape of her face,
Made thin by alcohol, sorrowing, brave. And though
There was a kind of pain in her face, I felt no pain
When this happened to mine, when the bones
Of my own face seemed to change. But even this
Did not do us any good, &, one day,
She went mad, waking in tears she mistook for blood,
And feeling little else except for this concern about bleeding
Without pain. I drove her to the hospital, & then,
After a few days, she told me she had another lover … So,
Walking up the street where it had been raining earlier,
Past the darkening glass of each shop window to the hotel,
I felt a sensation of peace flood my body, as if to cleanse it,
And thought it was because I had been told the truth …
But, you see,
Even that happiness became a lie, & even that was taken
From me, finally, as all lies are… Later,
I realized that maybe I felt strong that night only
Because she was sick, for other reasons, & in that place.
And so began my long convalescence, & simple adulthood.
I never felt that way again, when I looked at anyone else;
I never felt my face change into any other face.
It is a difficult thing to do, & so maybe
It is just as well. That man, for instance. He was a saboteur.
He ended up talking to a horse, & hearing, on the street
Outside the alley, the Nazis celebrating, singing, even.
If he went mad beside the wall, I think his last question
Was whether they shot his wife & children before they threw them
Into the ditch, or after. For some reason, it mattered once,
If only to him. And before he turned into paper.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Which reminded me of another poet's text - the preface by Jack Kerouac for the Frank's "The Americans":



"And I say: That little ole lonely elevator girl looking up sighing in an elevator full of blurred demons, what's her name & address?"

The English Village?

Sorry I didn't get posting straight after the last meeting as promised ... I could try and fathom out the intricacies of what's gone on in my head - but as Boris said, Why Bother. So please just accept my apologies and don't see it as a lack of commitment to the project.

One thing that interested me from the first meeting we had was a comment by Boris about 'English villages' and whether people who are not English/did not grow up in England would see a place such as DD differently form those who were/did. I would be interested in exploring that thought more - though that's suggesting words/text - oh no! So; do you think that looking at the images produced in this project you would be able to identify which photographers are 'English' and which not? I don't think so.

I think there are certain stereotypes of 'English' villages, although I don't think in reality there's any such single thing. Southern villages are very different from northern ones - due to history, geology and local materials, farming practices, local industry. I don't think DD conforms to any steroetype of an English village - to me it feels much more city-like, even for a northern village. I think it's sad that the main road has become such a through road. I would like to find out abou the history of DD - but would that influence the images I took? Probably, so maybe I'll leave that till later.

Lynette

Project Y statement

Project Y group statement

In photography, a system of preconceptions exists which interferes in the decision making process of the artist and the viewer. These preconceptions can include expectations regarding the subject and working method (photography = document); the ethical issues (did the subject agreed to be photographed?); artificial categorisation (street photography, documentary, art photography); expectation of the photograph’s general outlook (sharpness, tonality, realism), conceptual frameworks (photography = reproduction/not unique). In addition, as a part of the general tendency in art to become a text-driven and text-supported activity, photographic works are increasingly expected to be a supplement to “research projects” suited in certain historical, contextual, social or narrative framework, rather then constituting independent and self-sufficient works of art which are the an expression of photographer’s personal view of the world.

Project Y was set up as a group, in which the photographers would be able to work free of the limitations imposed by the preconceptions of the described kind. In this project, the photographers are not required to write proposals and artist statements or submit a portfolio in order to participate; everyone is allowed to participate, and the selection of the works for the final show is the result of the continuous development process and group discussions. Furthermore, the photographers are not required to explain or otherwise support their work by any textual means – in fact, any use of text is not allowed; the only way of expression that artists can use is the visual one – through the photographs. The role of contextualising the artists’ work and putting them in the proper conceptual framework is reserved to the curator of the project, who is neither “mentoring” the artists nor dictates the requirements for the show, but rather works in close collaboration with them and develops the exhibition concept based on the material provided by the artists.

Project Y is a framework of activity for photographers, which provides them with a supporting environment to develop their unique visual language. The uniqueness of perception of each artist will be celebrated in the final exhibition, which will be based on diversity, rather then commonality, of the participating artists’ views.

Project Y
February 2006

Photography, just like art

I have a catalogue of the exhibition of Henry Cartier-Bresson in the Museum of Modern Art in Oxford, year 1984. It was the exhibition of his paintings and drawings - apparently he studied painting before starting to do photography, and the exhibition showed his works from 70s-80s - when he mainly painted and less photographed. For my taste the works reproduced in the catalogue have more interest to the scholars of history of art in the context of Bresson's photographic practice - then as independent works of art; I may be wrong, or course. There is a text written by Andre Berne Joffroy - a remarkable example of condescending attitude to photography as to a supplement of "high arts", featuring incredible revelations like

"One can easily conceive that, like painting, sculpture or playing a musical instrument, drawing brings to the person who devotes himself or herself to it a kind of pleasure that the art of photography could not give to the same degree"

To remind you - this is a catalogue of one of the greatest photography artists of the century!

***

Some months ago I saw a show in The Photographers' Gallery in London - another of those graduate-level shows which somehow make their way to the high-profile galleries, with straight-into-the-camera looking portraits and well-composed landscapes, obviously accompanied with the text on the wall at the entrance trying to justify why exactly these pictures are worth showing – with all the compulsory phraseologisms like “fresh perspective”, “highly contemplative”, and even a quote from Proust. There was a book on sale, published by the artist and the gallery. On each double spread there was a small piece of text, and a photo on the opposite page. I opened it at a random page and saw a text starting with this:

"Photography, just like art..."

***

In the quote from Jeffroy's text there is one positive moment - he acknowledges - accidentally or not - that the photography is an art. Now in the perspective of 20 years, I can see Jeffroy's arrogance in the text in Bresson's catalogue as an anecdote.

I also can accept that even places like Photographers' Gallery sometime make unsuccessful shows. I even can accept that the show was fantastic and due to my personal limitations I just could not appreciate its fantasticness.

What I don't quite know how to digest is that, in the year 2005, The Photographer's Gallery publishes a book, in which there is an even slightest, even possibly accidental suggestion that the photography is something other then art...

a fleeting moment

In Boris's last post we have started to comment on digital images and the possible absence of aura. In my arguments for an image in translation I set out to demand that an artist give proper consideration to how an image might be presented taking into account how it might be changed by the media in which it is shown somehow translating in its delivery the 'essence' or aura of the original. But as Eric rightly points out what is the original? The original for me is further back than the mechanism of capture or some piece of crafted paper at the end of a process, it is a sense of the experience itself. Or at least that is what I had supposed. So taking this image as an example. The image is derived from an experience or relationship with the 'thing itself', not just an experience but my experience. The image becomes a record or rather an outcome of that experience. The record you now witness is this tiny backlit shot on the screen. Is that enough? What do I want to give you? Is it necessary for me to give you a beautiful glossy image? Am I doing this to satisfy an aesthetic need? Do I need to demonstrate some sort of photographic skill? Or simply is it enough that you, in the few seconds that it is known people give to images, get a fleeting glimspe of my not so fleeting moment spent with a tree?

My image has the potential to look glorious, to become something beyond what I can imagine. It has the potential to be beautiful, admired, desired. but maybe, just maybe, all I want for the image is to be there, for as many people who might be interested. A moment in a blizzard of words, a chance find in a sea of blogs. A little thing that lifts the spirits, there anytime you want it.

Continuation of love

I hesitated quite a lot with posting these - it is just impossible to show on the screen anything resembling the real feel and look of the prints, the scan just destroys everything... Those who have seen the pictures “live” can imagine – they are extremely difficult to scan because of the paper type and the way they are printed – so I apologise for the quality of the scans, pictures below are more for the reference then a representation of the real thing. I did not even try to reproduce the "black" ones - they are difficult to view even as prints, live alone scans...

The images I bring from Denby Dale look like a continuation of the series I did before, which I called “Love”. Probably they are similar because it is still Yorkshire and it feels Yorkshire – just emptier and darker then Leeds.

What it is like to be part of Project Y

Being part of Project Y which is based in Denby Dale, and I live over 200 miles away in London, is quite an adventure.

So far I have spent two nights in a tent in the cold of October (and discovered that I can cook great scrambled eggs and have a big fan group of ducks!).

I spent three nights in a local bed and breakfast in December visiting the local curry house to make notes about what on earth I was doing in Denby Dale. On my last trip in January I spent a luxurious night in the Malmaison in Leeds before venturing out to the cold and windy field that I now seem to spend most of my time in - loving it.

We have been a bit slow in getting ourselves together to make postings to the blog and it seems that I have only met few of you, so for those of you who have no idea what some of us have been up to here is a small selection of my work

It was a very dull day when I went to our chosen village so it wasn't shown off to it's best (!) I had an image in my head of a viaduct, like the Andre Kertesz photo of Meudon railway viaduct, but I wasn't sure whether that was actually a memory of Denby Dale - it was - I must have driven through it once; interesting that it was that image that stuck in my head.

I have some better images of this from my SLR but haven't printed them up yet so this quick digipic will do to give an idea of one line of thought. I have a bit of a preoccupation with barbed wire, broken glass etc - some deep anger somewhere I think.

I also like patterns, details and abstracts -

This needs some working on, both composition and quality of image.

I was there too!

The mosaic (window) art work was on display right next to the train station


Well, I could not resist


Yep! There I was, right under the Viaduct. I could almost touch it.

From my first trip.

Where there's muck, there's brass

The village.

My first lap of Denby Dale

Hello All!

Did a quick lap of Denby Dale on Thursday, by turning up with no map or idea of what I wanted to do except get lost, which I was very good at. I've put on a couple of shots that I took that day (the best of a really bad bunch)Denby Dale town has a very postcardy feel to it, this one (above) was taken from Miller Hill.
Above - I went for a wander though Hagg Wood which is southe of the town next to the viaduct. As you enter you are greeted by this sign and fibreglass squirrel.
Above - The view of Microsoft Hill (no idea what its actually called but it looks like the Windows XP picture!) from Hagg Wood
Above - One of the many fields that surround Denby Dale, it should be interesting to see how all these fields change thoughout the year with crops 'n' stuff.

Anyway thats all for now (or until my next visit anyway) I'm looking forward to seeing or hearing what all of you have been up to.

Contacts in DD

The regional headquarters of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds ( RSPB ) is in Denby Dale. I spoke with them today and have contact names and numbers if anybody wants to include them in their exibition work. ie. a group shot of their staff outside their building etc..

I also have the community policemans contact number if anyone wishes to contact him and ask if they can document his normal working day.

Anyone interested in contacting them, please mail me offlist for details.

Watch out for the speed camera as you enter the village from the West!




cheers

Dave
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Print presentation

Has any decision been made on how the images are to be presented for display? Are they all to be framed in similar frames or frames chosen to complement or contrast with the material?

Looking forward to the adventure

a random find, found elsewhere... and it wasn't Bradford...
good to meet you all the other day...

Pie Eaters

Looking forward to a challenging little town!
Rational Recreation

Intro

Hi from me in Warrington.

Not used a blog before - so it may take some getting used to.

cheers

Dave
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hello world