“Lost in translation”

Back to my other muses, this one from LACMA.  I always troll around the modern works while people watching mainly because the reaction to modern pieces is tends to be more vibrant and colorful.  There’s always some mini-scene unfolding:  people try to convince their friends that it’s good or that it’s bad.  People sway their heads from side to side, tick tock, as they try to figure it out, or they just stand their, weight all on one hip, supported by a bent arm, head cocked to one left, staring in confused wonder at whichever piece has caught their eye.  People gesture and point like this little girl and I’m there waiting which is nowhere as creepy as it sounds when I say it like that.  

Incidentally, when Magritte was once asked about this painting he replied of course it’s not a pipe, just try to fill it with tobacco.  Clever response.

There’s also a graphic framework that I’m drawn to.  You can find a beautiful element of compositional simplicity in minimal modern works.  Engulf that simplicity in all white, punctuate it with an interesting subject caught in the middle of an interesting moment and there’s something magical that happens.  It’s as if this perfect trifecta has swung into eclipse, the lights dim and I have exactly one second to make the picture before the light comes back and that moment is gone.  

In that second you have do so much, you have to encapsulate so many different aspects of your vision.  You have to conceive and execute your story and will it into existence.  You have to light it, shape it and bend it to your needs.  You have to cast your characters, to judge their performance, to wait till they have it just right.  You have to breathe in and you have to breathe out.  You have to make your treacherous image.

The treachery of images isn’t that the pipe isn’t a pipe.  The treachery is that images, like all forms of communication, are a one sided story who’s full meaning is only known to the speaker.  When we try to impart an experience through art or speech or text, we compress the human experience into a few carefully chosen words, or brush strokes or letters.  We launch an arrow out into the abyss and hope that someone will catch it, decompress it and relate to all or even some of it and if only for a fleeting moment.  The treachery of images is that that person on the other side of the abyss–that little girl in the gallery looking at Magritte or even you, dear reader looking at my images–you all only get to experience the end result and so damn much is lost in translation.    

Shot on a Leica M7 with a 35mm Summicron on Kodak Tri-X 400 film pushed to 800 by the lovely people at the Icon.  Incidentally, I’m back to shooting with an amber filter if anyone is curious why the beige tones have gone so white.