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My basic idea is that time as such does not exist. There is no invisible
river of time. But there are things that you could call instants of time,
or 'Nows'. As we live, we seem to move through a succession of Nows, and
the question is, what are they? They are arrangements of everything in
the universe relative to each other in any moment, for example, now.
--Julian Barbour
Introduction:
My work as an artist is first and foremost a process. I begin with the
urge to mould some vague hint of an idea into a tangible form. Almost
compulsively, everything in my perception becomes understood in relation
to this snippet of thought. Eventually the doodles and snapshots that
fill my notebooks begin to take a single form around the developing idea,
and these evolve into a composition. In the fall of 2001 I came across
an article about the British physicist, Julian Barbour. His claim, as
a physicist, that time is illusory, and that this idea should make logical
sense simultaneously excited and bewildered me. But more importantly,
it stuck in my head.
So for the past year I have worked toward refining a means of representing
different conceptions of time based on Barbour’s notion of interconnected
arrangements. In this process I have found intersections with issues dealt
with in much of my previous work, especially narrative and memory. These
two ideas, I found, seem to function conceptually almost identical to
Barbour’s model.
“I suggest that our belief in time and a past arises solely because
our entire experience comes to us through the medium of static arrangements
of matter, in Nows, that create the appearance of time and change…”
--J.B.
Hypothesis:
That time, memory, and narrative are analogous concepts derived from discrete
components that are static and meaningless outside their relationships
relative to each other. Just as time can only be understood as a sequence
of events, memory is created through the assembly of sensory fragments,
and narrative through the juxtaposition of visual ideas. Any single moment
of time, fragment of memory, or object of a narrative, is, by itself,
devoid of content and context. It is only through the juxtaposition of
these fragments that a meaningful idea is derived. Corollary to this hypothesis
is the idea that each of these concepts, by virtue of their parallel natures,
can be used to imply the others: narrative depends on a conception of
time, which requires the construction of memories, etc.
Each of my major projects in the past year have functioned as a kind of
experiment with the goal of investigating alternative visual interpretations
of the standard linear models of experience. By arranging the parts (“Nows”)
in different relationships, it should be possible to explore many different
patterns of time, narratives which bend back upon themselves, memory which
refuses to sit squarely in the past.
Though each work is intended to address the experience of these interdependent
ideas in a different manner, they are tied together through the process
of their execution, the limitations of the photographic medium, and the
emphasis on construction from discrete parts. Though I do not seek to
portray any specific message through these works, I do hope to involve
the viewer in this process of continual building and destroying as an
invitation to the further exploration of ideas which are so easily taken
for granted.
We have the strong impression that you and I are sitting opposite each
other, that there's a bunch of flowers on the table, that there's a chair
there and things like that — they are there in definite positions
relative to each other. I aim to abstract away everything we cannot see
(directly or indirectly) and simply keep this idea of many different things
coexisting at once in a definite mutual relationship. The interconnected
totality becomes my basic thing, a Now. There are many such Nows, all
different from each other. That's my ontology of the universe — there
are Nows, nothing more, nothing less.”
--J. B.
Setup:
Though my compositions offer a distorted view of objective reality, they
attempt to capture something like an experiential reality. The imagery
that I use in my final compositions arises from awareness in my day-to-day
activities of the passage of time, the remembered actions that populate
the habitual rooms and pathways of my life, the random recollections triggered
by an overheard conversation. Something as simple as noticing the way
my eyes move around constantly to track the changes (or lack thereof)
in my field of vision relates back to the fragmentation and reconstruction
through which my compositions are built.
My approach to the idea of memory relies upon the congruency between the
way that the human eye sees the world and the way that the camera records
it. Both impose a limitation on what is seen. That which falls outside
of the frame ceases to exist. The human eye can only capture small fragments
of the world at time, and it is through the reconstruction of these fragments
in memory, that an image of the world is built. So by fracturing my subject
matter into a series of separate images, taken at different times and
occasionally from different vantage points, and then reconstructing the
full image from these parts I physically reproduce the act of seeing and
of remembering.
This process parallels the different conceptions of time that I hope to
evoke in the finished works. The normal experience of time is linear:
one thing follows another in a logical sequence. This is mirrored in my
process when I follow the changes in a subject, tracking the movements.
But time can also be seen as Barbour envisions it, a collection of static
arrangements, in no particular sequence. It is this kind of time which
I deal with when I am assembling photographs into a composition or editing
a video project, when the final arrangement has not yet been decided.
Finally there is the idea of non-linear time, when there is a definite
progression of events without a clear distinction between the past and
the future. This formulation of time is difficult to grasp, as it runs
counter to normal perceptions. I encounter non-linear timelines in my
process when an object or figure is made to appear simultaneously in different
positions, forcing an implied relationship with itself.
“Let us consider this piece of paper on the table. The longer I
look at it the more of its features are revealed to me. Each new orientation
of my attention, of my analysis, shows me a new detail: the upper edge
of the sheet is slightly warped; the end of the third line is dotted ...
etc. No matter how long I may look at an image, I shall never find anything
in it but what I put there”
--Jean-Paul Sartre
Background:
My work, though it covers a wide range of media, is rooted in photography
and many of the issues that are central to it arise directly from the
nature of the photographic medium. For example, photography deals with
time, representation, and materiality. These inherent characteristics
inform and add depth to the issues I bring to my practice.
Time is one of the most important issues in my work. Photographs automatically
deal with time. The act of taking a photograph is, in a sense, an attempt
to preserve an instant. Yet because of the limitations of film, it is
impossible to truly record a single moment. Even at the fastest shutter-speeds
there remains an interval that is required to sufficiently expose the
negative. And in lower light, exposure times grow long enough that moving
subjects appear blurred. Removed of the context of the moment when it
was taken, the photograph has no relationship to the past beyond a visual
similarity to the photographer’s memory. So the idea of the photograph
as a preserved moment of history is dependant on the viewer’s ability
to reconstruct a sequence of events that follow from it, to expand beyond
the borders of the image.
Photographers have used these conceptions of photographic time in various
ways since the invention of the medium. Traditional journalistic photographers,
such as Robert Capa or Henri Cartier-Bresson, sought to capture what became
known as the “decisive moment”. They saw their photographs as
recording and preserving moments of time so that they could be seen and
appreciated by others. Thus, these photographs represent time as progression
of moments that can be documented, allowing the past to be brought with
us into the future. Duane Michals, on the other hand, conceives a photographic
time that depends, not on the image itself, but on the relationship between
the image and the viewer. Working in series of often self-referential
images, he fosters an awareness of the present moment of looking, so that
the time represented in the photograph becomes indistinguishable from
the time spent looking at it.
In my work I use photographic time as it is understood in the construction
of memory and as it is understood when something is labeled past/present/future:
each image serves to inform the others both by giving context, and by
defining their location in time. I also deal with time in the sense of
the time it takes to assemble the image, or the time it takes to view
the work in its entirety.
Fundamental to photography, as a medium, is representation. Light is admitted
through the lens and focused onto the film, and so all photographs must
relate in some way to the objective world, and in most cases, recognizably
so. Even in cases of extreme manipulation, the photograph retains this
essential reference to a specific location and time. This representational
aspect is central to my works, because it is implicit in the photograph,
and thus easily forgotten by the viewer. When a viewer approaches a photograph,
she expects to be confronted with an image of the ordinary; to be able
to say, “this is a person, this is a street, this is a tree”.
Because our visual culture is based in photography, the photographic image
is accepted as not merely a depiction of reality, but often as a substitution:
it is not a picture of my mother, it is my mother.
The photographs of Jeff Wall are entirely staged. Yet because of the assumption
of fact the viewer brings to them, he is able to present them as documentary
artifacts. Because they are artificial he is able to control every element,
and in doing so he also controls the narratives the viewer finds in them.
In my work I use this expectation to draw the viewer into a closer relationship
with my subject and to encourage him to create a narrative from the images.
Jerry Uelsmann’s work utilizes the representational aspects to different
effect. His works are obviously contrived while still preserving the believable
representative aspects of a documentary photograph. Rather than relying
on the viewers’ acceptance, he challenges them to disbelieve the
image. Where Wall hides his message within a counterfeit of reality, Uelsmann
presents it explicitly within the context of a world that cannot exist,
yet because of it’s perfect appearance, cannot be denied.
Like representation, the material aspect of photographs is not often considered.
However, where representation is often taken for granted, the material
qualities of the photograph are traditionally minimized so as not to impede
the believability of the image. For photographers such as Ansel Adams
and Edward Weston it was essential for the surface of the photograph to
disappear, leaving the viewer free to interact solely with the image.
Large format negatives allowed for invisibly fine grain, and platinum
prints merged the image with the surface of the paper. Others, such as
Doug and Mike Starns, use the material aspect of the photograph to completely
undermine the image. Rather than using the materials to highlight the
subject, they do the opposite: the image becomes a vehicle for the creation
of a photographic object.
As with time and representation, the materiality of the photograph can
never be completely removed. A photograph, no matter the effort taken
to disguise it, remains an object: a porous surface impregnated with light
sensitive compounds. Acknowledging the material nature of the print in
my work allows me to use it to support or undermine the image. Accentuating
the grain, leaving a black boarder around certain prints, toning, and
other manipulations force the viewer to divorce the image from reality;
while disguising the materiality reinforces the image. So by varying the
material qualities of prints within the composite I attempt to create
a pattern of construction and deconstruction as a method of examining
time, memory, and narrative.
Data:
I have sought, through my works, to examine these notions both through
photography itself, and through work in other media that function in a
photographic sense. In pieces such as 720 Panoramic(2002), I used actual
photographic prints which form a continuous 720 degree panoramic view
of my room composited from eighteen photographs. In other works, such
as Memoria Mori(2003) and Memory Collage(2003), I use other media in a
photographic sense. Memoria Mori is a video installation, a projection
of a composited photograph that changes very slowly over the course of
several hours. Memory Collage is a sound piece consisting of narratives
and overlapping pseudo-narratives constructed from fragments of them.
Each of these works seeks to examine the interrelationship between time,
memory and narrative in a slightly different way, though they all attempt
to do so through a perceptual language more akin to direct experience
than to objective understanding.
In 720 panoramic the construction of time and narrative are employed in
several ways. First, the linear understanding of time is constructed trough
the regular and clear movement of the camera, as well as the viewers’
eye across the 25+ft. of the photograph. This linear structure is reinforced
by the appearance of my own figure in several places throughout the composite,
suggesting a movement from waking, activity, to sleep. This linearity
exists in the past tense: the viewer is presented with a documentary of
something which has already happened. A parallel linearity exists in the
present tense of the viewer: the size of the work makes it difficult to
view in its entirety all at once. This forces the viewer to move along
the composite. This also involves the notion of memory. The repetition
of objects and subtle changes in position, printing, etc, as the image
loops back around the room invites the viewer to compare what is in front
of him with what he has already seen, the changes calling into question
the viewers’ memory of the previous cycle. Finally, the composited
image is constructed (via the liberal use of scotch tape, and the intentional
variation in print contrast, tone, and quality) in such a way as to call
attention to its own materiality. Thus, it exists outside of the narrative
context as an object, static in the present moment of the viewers’
attention.
Memoria mori seeks to take this present tense situation one step further.
At a glance it appears to be a projection of a static arrangement of photographs.
However, the arrangement of the photographs changes very slowly, so that
between one viewing and the next the figures will have changed positions.
This slow progression is intended to make the viewer uncomfortably aware
of his own sense of the passage of time, as well as to challenge the notion
of the photographic image as a static “moment”. This piece also
addresses narrative: the movements and changes between the figures is
intended to encourage the creation of a storyline.
Memory collage, an audio installation, uses the same technique of duration
to address the idea of memory. The piece itself is composed of continuous
and unedited interviews on memory layered with alternate narratives built
from bits and snatches of all of the interviews. The effect is to disorient
the listener, dividing her attention between the coherent narratives and
the constructed elements in much the same way as the materiality and representative
aspects of 720 Panoramic compete. Through this deconstruction and reconstruction,
both of the narratives, and of the listener’s concentration, I hope
to focus attention on the discrete elements (images, words, breaths) which,
individually, become meaningless. Only through the relationships between
these elements can a coherent memory/narrative be formed. By preventing
the normal relationships I hope to create an idea of memory that is more
akin to the act of remembering than to the idea of a memory in itself.
Conclusions:
Art for me is essentially a conversation. While developing an idea, the
conversation is between me and the experiences that I have; any idle word
overheard in the coffee shop may change the entire direction of my idea.
During the shoot the conversation exists in the interaction of the environment
and the models and the camera. In the darkroom it is between the materials
and the image and I can act only as a facilitator until they reach a consensus
on their own. On the wall the work takes on a life of its own, revealing
issues that I had not dreamed were present before displaying the piece,
and often I am at a loss when asked to explain what a given work means.
This is because all of the meaning for me took place in the process of
creating, from that overheard snippet to the wall, but once it’s
on the wall it is no longer connected to me directly. My intention has
never been to create works that convey specific meaning. I would much
rather they simply invite attention, existing as an open ended dialogue
with whoever cares to engage them. My purpose in making art is not the
thing on the wall, but rather the time spent which leads towards the finished
work. And though it would be the truth to say that I do all this as means
to greater understanding of the world and of the ideas which engage my
own attention, and also to share my own vision with others, the plain
fact is that I enjoy thinking about making things, and I enjoy looking
at made things. But most of all I enjoy making things.
In any worthwhile endeavor the goal is not to come to a conclusion, but
rather to find a meaningful question and examine it from as many angles
as possible. This work demonstrates that time, memory, and narrative—all
things we take for granted—are in fact very mutable concepts, and
can function in several different modes, even within a single image. Though
they do draw heavily on the ideas of Julian Barbour, the intentions not
to restrict time to a specific definition, but rather to open up a too
rigidly defined concept to further questioning.
***
For Your Consideration:
--that time, memory, and narrative are circularly defined concepts
Given:
1) Time (t): a linear progression of events
2) Memory (M): the ability to recall past events
3) Narrative (N): a collection of events arranged in a logical/meaningful
sequence
Then:
t= M+N,
M=t+N,
N=t+M,
Therefore:
T=M=N=0//.
Sartre, Jean-Paul. The Psychology of Imagination. London: Methuen, 1972.
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