Azoulay and Reinhardt.

Its my mission to keep this weeks entry short, so hopefully I'll be able to explain my thoughts well. Apologies for being a rambler lads. Our readings for this week were 'Testimony' by Ariella Azoulay and 'Picturing Violence: Aesthetics and the Anxiety of Critique' by Mark Renhardt. The first text is an overview of work by Gillian Laub in relation to Azoulay's Civil Contract, whereas Renhardt's text is a discussion of the various problems and possible solutions surrounding images of suffering.

Azoulay begins by discussing Laub's photograph of a woman on a beach in Jaffa, Tel Aviv. If one is aware of the Israel-Palestinian divide, it is clear that this woman is an Arab, as she wades into the ocean fully clothed, amongst the others at the beach, who we assume are Jews, as they are in swimming attire. As Azoulay mentions, it is obvious after looking at Laub's work that her camera "is sensitive to objects and it frames its subjects relative to them" (97). Azoulay says that these objects are a form of theatricality and performativity "as a mode of routine human existence" (97). This in an interesting point which relates to previous readings of Fried, although of course Azoulay is discussing this act in relation to ongoing, daily life. She discusses a photograph of Azoulay's grandfather, taken en face, which according to her, signifies theatricality. Would Fried agree? Interesting to ponder, but that's not for today's discussion. Azoulay claims the manner in which the spectator can get to know the photographed figure is mediated by the encounter between subject and photographer. She notes that what we find in Laub's photographs are in fact dense differences, rather than hierarchical dichotomies or centers versus margins. Laub is not interested in showing anthropological or ethnographic differences, nor singling out social distinctions. What Laub is interested in is displaying the moment, "when differences between human beings transcend the distinctions of class, identity or belonging" (99). She is interested in the differences that can in fact turn into a fatal distinction when in certain situations. Obviously in this context she is referring to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the widespread violence caused by these very differences.

Azoulay also discusses Laub's frequent use of the word "survivor" and her attempt to frame it outside terms that deal with either the Holocaust or victims of sexual assault. She also mentions how text enriches Laub's pieces. Laub interviews each of her subjects. As Azoulay states "these things assist Laub in suspending the political context of the project she has undertaken, while drawing the spectator gaze the the difficult and complex existential reality of these injured people and the ways in which reality is described by them" (100). Interestingly, Azoulay informs us that Laub attempts to remain apolitical in all her work. Her work is not constructed to convey a symmetrical cycle of violence and revenge, nor a tale of universal suffering. She is not interested in representing a story of one side vs the other, either. However, it is difficult to separate ourselves from the connotations the objects in the photographs suggest. The importance of text comes into play here. Azoulay brings her own theory of the Civil Contract into the discussion when she explains that, "the language of the photographed women and men is that of civilians" who avoid "the language of the blood sucking fantasy of two sides" (101). Azoulay is interested particularly in a quote by one of the young men Laub photographed who claims "the party should make the sacrifices, not its citizens...releasing them from the obligation of pledging their blood to the state. Isn't this the most civil of claims?" (101). Obviously this exemplifies Azoulay's Civil Contract perfectly. Laub's work is a wonderful example of Azoulay's ideas and shows how through a collaboration of subject and photographer, a clear view of a situation and the opinions of those involved can be established.

The author of the second reading, Mark Reinhardt, begins his text discussing the problem of aestheticization in photographs. He notes that when we get the feeling that a photograph is "off" (14) it is generally due to an imbalance of formal or "beautiful" content in relation to a situation of great pain, loss or atrotcity, thus raising uneasy questions about the moral intentions of the photographer. However, Reinhardt discusses how usage of this term is problematic. He claims it is invalid for description as it limits the critics argument . He claims the term raises anxieties which directly link to uncertainties about photography's validity as a form of representation itself. He begins with the example of the infamous Abu Ghraib photographs.

Detainee with staff sergeant Ivan Frederick II in Foreground.

Firstly, Reinhardt dicusses the camera's power as a tool to draw attention to a wrong whilst simultaneously prolonging the suffering we are observing. These photographs confirm this power. As we gaze upon this man with his head hooded, in the stance which immediately connotes christ's suffering, we feel a huge sense of rage, sorrow, injustice, etc. However, by gazing upon him, we are continuing his objectification and humiliation as a victim of torture and sadism. Reinhardt discusses the hesitation of American newspapers to show these pictures, not out of respect for those photographed and what they had been through, but rather, to comply with what is deemed "appropriate" viewing for its readers. He notes that when these photographs were shown, the nudity of the victims was censored, for reader discretion, but their faces wereleft fully visible. However, their was a strict ban on the photographing of, let alone showing, of pictures of American soldiers in any compromised state in this context. Reinhardt discusses the shocking reception of these photographs. These photographs were briefly shown and rapidly removed from public circulation (obviously they are still available online, but no new pictures or reports, which of course are in existence, have emerged). These photographs became symbols of everything that is wrong with the U.S invasion of Iraq, and naturally resulted in a plunge in the war's populaarity world wide. But what real change did they bring about? Obama recently defended his choice to keep the further 2,000 unreleased photographs, some of which to include photographs of rape, sexual abuse, child abuse and abuse of the mentally unstable, saying: "The most direct consequence of releasing them, I believe, would be to inflame anti-American public opinion and to put our troops in greater danger" (UK Telegraph). Obama knows these images have the power to sway public opinion to breaking point and he is not willing to let this happen. Personally, I feel as horrifically damaging as these images are to those who were the victims of such acts, they need to be shown. Blur out the faces, censor the nudity, but show the actions, show the truth. These images have been hidden away as if their release was some kind of hiccup on the part of the U.S/Iraq war P.R campaign. With real time war action photography now highly restricted, these photographs are a hugely important record of how war effects its victims, the Iraqi victims, ironically and disturbingly produced by the torturers themselves. I remember visiting Sachsenhausen concentration camp in Berlin a few years ago, which is now a national memorial site. In the camp, there is a small photo gallery honouring its victims and explaining its history. I remember clearly one of the photographs displayed a Nazi looking towards the camera and smiling as a Jewish prisoner was being tortured in the background. The pure sick enjoyment in his eyes disturbed me deeply and the image was burned into my mind as proof of how people are capable of things that are unimaginable. It frustrates me how people visit these museums, swearing by the oath "Never Again" when the exact same thing is happening as I type this. How are the Abu Ghraib releases different from such photographs? Think of Lawrence Beitler's photograph, 'Lynching of Young Blacks'. (This photograph upsets me too much to be reproduced on here, so if you don't know this one, apologies) These are images of torture and to hide them away is to hide away the issue at hand.

Obviously, the showing of these pictures raises many moral issues, as Sontag so brashly outlined in 'On Photography'. Reinhardt mentions Walter Benjamin's opinion from 'The Author as Producer' that photography has the power to make anything an object available for pleasurable consumption. He also discusses Sontag's belief that by aestheticizing a photograph, we are neutralising what is being shown. As for the photograph of Abu Ghraib, there is nothing beautiful, aesthetic or formal. All I see is raw, shocking truth. But what about other photographs? Take for example, James Nachtway's 'Sudan'.

Reinhardt mentions the formal satisfactions of this photograph, how the composition draws outr notice, the contrast of lights, the interplay between the cloth and the starving man's body., the sharp diagnol lines. He asks, "are we supposed to be cheered by the triumph of artistry?" (24). He discusses the anxieties this raises as these qualities distract from the issue at hand and therefore seems wrong in some way. Personally, none of these things cross my mind when I see this photograph, I am transfixed on how disgusted and angry I feel in general that people are in this situation in the world. I struggle to understand how this could distract anyone from the tragedy in this photograph. However, perhaps this is down to the number of times I have viewed this photograph, only once or twice and also the context I am viewing it in, in its lesser quality state online. Obviously this is an issue and Reinhardt discusses the use of text to offset this as a possible solution. He cites Sekula, for example as someone who praises artists who "openly bracket their photographs with language" (24), such as Martha Rosler. He also mentions Benjamin's remark, "what we require of the photographer is the ability to give his picture a caption" (24).

Reinhardt moves on to discuss Thomas Ruff's images of the World Trade Centre. This photograph is unnerving as Ruff has pixeletated the image, therefore we are forced to focus on its aesthetic qualities first, then we think about the victims. and the event itself. Reinhardt notes that this very quality is what invites critical engagement "as a kind of meta-critical reflection of the mass-mediated character of disaster.." (26). In other words, Ruff is pointing out that images of political disasters are highly controlled by the Government, as I already discussed above.

Shimon Attie's 'The Writing on the Wall'.

As Reinhardt mentions, he so far has given little discussion to beauty. He poses the question, "might beauty breed passivity?" and quotes Sontag in claiming "beauty tends to bleach out a moral response to what is shown" (29). He also asks does drawing a line from beautification to aesthetisization identify what makes images of suffering problematic? To discuss this he uses Shimon Attie's 'The Writing on the Wall'. Attie's documented projections are dual purposed Though their intention is to remind us of the lives that were stolen from those who inhabited the Scheunenvietel, the photographs of the projections are strikingly beautiful in form. Instead of becoming a distracting quality, Reinhardt claims "the beauty of the work shapes and intensifies" our invitation to look (30). However, he makes an important point. If Attie had brought this kind of aesthetic technique to pictures of those in the throws of suffering, they would invoke a very different response indeed. This leads me to wonder, is this kind of technique okay only if there is no people actually suffering within to photograph? Is aestheticization a technique destined only for Late Photography, in the context of suffering? Ruff's pieces of the Twin Towers are just as beautiful as Attie's pieces. Why is it that we can happily look at something beautiful that we know is tinged with death and suffering, such as Joel Meyerowitz' photography of Ground Zero, once it is void of people enduring the pain we know existed?

This brings us the the topic of Acknowledgement. In 'On Photography', Sontag writes, "photographs do not explain; they aknowledge" (31). She claims this is not enough. Stanley Cavell, however, think this is the greatest thing we can do for a photograph. Cavell's theory of aknowledgement reminds me of Azoulay's Civil Contract and makes clear that Sontag's view, however valid, is not universally applicable to a large portion of Contemporary photography. Cavell notes that recognition of world issues can come only through aknowledgement and as Reinhardt mentions, "photographs fail morally and politcally when what they invite from a responsive viewer is something less than aknowledgement" (31). He sees this as tied to a picture's visual strategies. Cavell sees a picture such as Sudan as a failure of aknowledgement, as the intention is to display the subject as a human being but instead he is portrayed as an outcast. The photograph simply envokes feelings of outrage (as I mentioned) but nothing more. Its true, I felt this way, but by the time I'd moved onto this paragraph I was no longer thinking of that image. However I will argue against the claim that the viewer is not invited to consider his or her relationship to the subject. I did think of my own position in the world in comparision to the subject's and the various reasons for this. Obviously it didn't do the situation any good, but I would hardly say I saw the man as an outsider, I see him as fellow human being whom I so desperately wish I could help.

Alfredo Jaar's 'The Eyes of Gutete Emerita', which is a piece that uses a radically different technique to that employed by Nachtway. In this piece, Jaar challenges the limitations of photography and representation. He displays what was not shown and ask the viewer to imagine what they would have seen. This is a work that employs text to strengthen is visual impact and at the same time ensures we do not equate the act of watching with the delivering of aid, as perhaps could be construed from Nachtway's piece. This is an interesting piece to discuss when considering the way we are shown images of suffering. Jaar draws attention to the way images of suffering are controlled and censored whilst also highlighting the strength text can add to a piece. Interestingly, he controls the spectator's vision of the piece, forcing them to spend a longer time with the installation then they would perhaps with a photograph on the wall. I'm sure the movement in the piece keeps the viewer anticipating what will happen next, also. Reinhardt wonders if Alan Sekula's observation that images cannot suceed without the agency of letter.

Alan Schechner - 'It's The Real Thing - Self Portrait at Buchenwald.'

Thus, the final photograph Reinhardt discusses is 'It's The Real Thing - Self Portrait at Buchenwald' by Alan Schechner, is a purely visual piece. He notes that this image at first may apprear to be a crude trivialization, or a "failure to recognize the relative weight of two problems.." (36). However, given closer critical attention, Schechner is bravely stating his distance, as a Jew, from this situation. His gleaming can of Diet Coke comes to represent the era he lives in, despite his people's tragic history. Schechner is aknowledging his, well, aknowledegment of this period of history, but is admiting that as a viewer, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot relate. This bring us back to Sontag's argument and her championing of Jeff Wall's 'Dead Troops Talk' piece. Of course he can't relate, but the least he can do is aknowledge and furthermore, enter into a civil cotnract as described by Azoulay, a contract that aknowledges his existence as a citizen who should fulfil his duty to avoid such situations being thrust upon other citizens and non citizens alike in his time.

Was that shorter than usual? Probably not, I'm sorry. You can't ask me to discuss ethical issues and keep it short and sweet, its my favourite thing to rattle on about. All this discussion on ethical art, if you will, of all these images of suffering, how many of the photographers sell their work and donate the funds to those the photographed? How many use the money raised from their exhibtion to send aid to the victims they claim to care about? I recently attended an exhibition that was orginised to raise awareness and promote dontations, which was uplifting: This show was on in Dublin's main photography gallery (which is hilariously tiny compared to any gallery here, but still great) and donated the funds to Women of Concern. I think this would also constitute as a good example for Azoulay's Civil Contract.

Sources:

UK Telegraph.
Iraq Body Count.

Photography and/as Ethics, the Civil Contract and Political Discourse.

This week we moved on from Fried (though you can never really move on from Fried, can you?) and started a new topic: Photography and/as ethics. To begin, we were to read Susan Sontag's 'Regarding the Pain of Others' and Ariella Azoulay's 'The Civil Contract of Photography'. Both books differ significantly from Fried's writing, particularly Azoulay's. Sontag's text revisits her influential 'On Photography', revising her argument that the images of war and suffering were defunct due to an over saturation of images of horror. Sontag turns her point of view around completely and is characteristically straight forward in expressing this, "let the atrocious images haunt us. Even if they are only tokens, and cannot possibly encompass most of the reality to which they prefer" (115). Previously, Sontag criticised photographs such as Nick Ut's photograph of the Napalm victims in Vietnam for simply showing unnecessary suffering, but Sontag has obviously changed her point of view. I wonder what convinced Sontag to change her tune. Perhaps, a factor in this is that the images Sontag was observing in 'On Photography' were of moments passed, done with, even if they were not that long ago. Opinions changed after Vietnam, war was seen through different eyes. For the first time violent images displaying the reality of war were illuminated through the televisions sets of Americans. Dead children staring out of the photo frame urged the American population to accept the truth. Artists addressed the situation, students protested and died for the cause. Everything changed. Not to say that war became any less of an American tradition, but a fraction of the horror was revealed. When the dust settled, Sontag looked back and with tired eyes and criticised these images. To the best of my knowledge, 'Regarding The Pain of Others' was written in response to the photographs released from Abu Ghraib. It seems to me that Sontag realised it is much easier to sit back, when time has passed and distance oneself from images of suffering and say "do I really need to see that?" It is as if the events of 9/11 and the disastrous mess America got itself into following this reignited something in Sontag that she had forgotten. Of course we need to see these images. This is the only voice these victims have. The photograph, the trace of the event, the confirmation that this happened, it may be the only chance these people have be be placed in history and not forever silenced and forgotten, like so many before and after. I would like to note that Azoulay's text was written in 2008, whilst Sontag's was written in 2003. Why Azoulay ignores Sontag's new text (at least in the amount we have read so far) is intriguing to me. She criticises Sontag's writing on war images but does not note that she has since revised her arguments. Despite this, it is obvious from Azoulay's gripping text that she knows what Sontag had forgotten and has never once lost sight of it. A word you will not find extensively in either of these articles is "art", "anti-theatricality" or "absorption". Unlike Fried, neither author's are interested the placement of photographs into modernist timeline, connecting work to painting and fine art. Neither author's are interested in theatricality vs anti-theatricality (although their are some connections), nor object-hood and absorption. What these authors are interested in is the photograph as a public space for debate, a tool for reporting the situation of a community or person, an incentive for social change and political discourse.

At the beginning of Sontag's book, she writes "I wrote, photographs shrivel sympathy. Is this true? I thought it was when I wrote it. I'm not so sure now" (105). Sontag notes that the argument that "modern life consists of a diet of horrors...to which we become gradually habituated" is a "founding idea of the critique of modernity" (107). However, Sontag points out the flaw in this kind of thinking. Firstly, it assumes that "everyone is a spectator. It suggests, perversely, unseriously, that there is no real suffering in the world" (110). Secondly, this reaction only concerns two groups of people, cynics who have been lucky enough not to experience war and the war weary who are enduring being photographed. What Sontag considers is those this type of thinking excludes. Sontag also discusses the subject of the photograph (precisely what Azoulay accuses her of ignoring). She talks about victims and how they are interested in the "representation of their own sufferings" and how they want their suffering "to be seen as unique" (112). To support this, she discusses the exhibition by Paul Lowe, which displayed images of Sarajevans and Somalians, both suffering the impact of war. Sontag discusses how it was seen as "intolerable" to have two separate people's suffering displayed in one exhibition. How valid is this point? Obviously the reactions of the Sarajevans was twinged with racism, so does this deal specifically with how the world want their suffering to be portrayed? Is Sontag suggesting that images of suffering are fighting for the attention of those who can aid the situation? Unfortunately, I think it is the sad truth that images of suffering must compete for attention, if pity, empathy or practical aid is the desired result.

Nick Ut, 'Napalm Girl'.

Sontag moves on to discuss the responsibility of the viewer. She warns, "No one after a certain age has the right to this kind of innocence, of superficiality, to this degree of ignorance or amnesia (114). In other words, Sontag is suggesting that it is our responsibility to be aware of these images, of these histories and to a larger degree, to engage in the political. To be ignorant of this part of life is to silence its victims. Here, Sontag makes one of her, in my opinion, most relevant points: "Perhaps too much value is assigned to memory, not enough to thinking (115)". Things can get a bit confusing here. Sontag explains, remembering is an ethical act. By remembering we are honouring the past, grieving the damage done. However, I firmly believe (and I think this is what Sontag is saying) that to truly engage in past political wrongs is to ensure they do not repeat themselves. We need to think of the future more than we remember the past. When people think of world atrocities, the mind automatically jumps to the Holocaust. Obviously it is important, to say the least, to remember this event, but it is also important to think of the current events that are just as horrific, such as the inspiration of Sontag's book, a (what I would strongly consider) concentration camp run by Americans, or the blatant oppression Azoulay is writing about, or apartheid in Africa. The list is endless. To overlook these events to remember the past is a woeful contradiction. I would also argue that even more powerful than thinking in this context, is action.

Sontag follows with another important point, that news and photography about war is now disseminated does not mean it effects a person's sense of moral justice any less. Sontag also notes something that we often forget: a photograph is not an easy fix of conscience. A photograph "cannot repair our ignorance about the history and causes of such suffering it picks out and frames" (117). The basis of all suffering is ignorance, silence, denial. Nobody speaks out, nobody is saved. A photograph cannot cure this atrocity, but it can shed light on it. A photograph can provide a voice where there is nothing but deafening silence, a light when there is only darkness. I will discuss this further when I write about Azoulay's texts. Sontag moves on to discuss the action of looking at a photograph of suffering and what this implies. She describes that it has been seen as morally wrong to gaze upon the suffering of others, but only because of the context of the viewing. I think this is a very valid point. Something about passing by an image of extreme pain or suffering in a gallery (if, perhaps, it is a class outing or group visit, where one cannot be "absorbed" (oh dear) in its message) seems disrespectful. But, as Sontag notes, "there is no way to guarantee reverential conditions in which to look at these pictures and be fully responsive to them" (120). Of course there isn't. There has been much written on this, in various areas of photography. Does this, however, mean we should give up on putting political (or artistic) messages out into the world, because we are afraid of them being misread? I would say, absolutely not. As Azoulay will note in the next reading, the point of these types of images is to create a "virtual community" (22) a call for a group of unknown supporters. Sontag, however, argues that these images are susceptible to failure in both the context of a gallery and a book, as a book can be closed and the images forgotten. "The strong emotion will become a transient one" (121), she remarks.

So, if there is possibility of failure in both the gallery and the photo book, what is the alternative? Sontag claims "a narrative seems likely to be more effective than an image" (122). Sontag believe a narrative, that requires more intimate time to complete, will have more of a lasting effect. I can completely understand what Sontag means by this. Books do stay with a person. However, a narrative is less accessible. Sadly, people are reading less and less, especially in the category of war. As Sontag previously mentioned, we are consumers and we are weary. I think what it takes is active viewing, making it ones responsibility to be involved in the political, both through photography and literature. Otherwise, it is all too easy to ignore. She also mentions Walls 'Dead Troops Talk', as we have previously discussed, as an example of the perfect contemporary war photograph. As Sontag discusses, the troops ignore our gaze as we "can't understand, can't imagine" (125).

Anat Saragusti, 'Hebron, 1982'.

However, Ariella Azoulay believes that successful images of suffering are looking for anything but sympathy or empathy, they are looking for recognition, validity, seeking justice, angrily confronting the world and stating their status as a victim of something utterly unacceptable. This is why I personally am not moved by Wall's photograph. It says nothing to me other than, war is mad, cruel, terrifying and wrong. Anyone with a brain in their head can deduce this. The photographs Azoulay discusses, however, say so much more than Wall's piece ever could. Fried sees a picture as either theatrical, putting on a show for an audience, or anti theatrcal, avoiding the audience, or accepting the audience passively. Sontag sees images of suffering as devices to horrify, depress, or as invitations of empathy. Azoulay, however, sees things very differently. Azoulay sums up image fatigue as follows: "they simply stopped looking" (11). Azoulay claims the photographed person is always demanding something, be it a politcal demand or perhaps a small demand of recognition (which could be from photographer or subject). She notes that by photographing, we create a physical space and a contract between subject and ourselves. She discusses the "civil, political space we imagine" (12) as photographers and spectators. Its true, we create a target audience in our head, even if that audience is something or someone we do not know. We envision a space in which we imagine the photograph will be viewed and when viewing, we do the same, we imagine the context we are supposed to view it in. This is an important point as we discover, from the onset, the photograph is creating an imagined space.

In relation to imagined space, Azoulay discusses the power of "planted images" (13). She discusses how images planted in a person's head, by a parent, television, stories, etc, shape a person's growth and personality. She gives the example of her childhood warnings, being warned that someone could follow her home (most likely referencing a Palestinien), that she was constantly in danger, that being independent was not safe, that all around her that weren't of her religion were out to get her. Azoulay discusses how images, real images, helped her rid herself of these false ideals, these images of terror that controlled her young mind. She makes an intriguing point that real photographs are confused for planted photographs. The planted image is something ingrained in our heads, something only the individual can understand, you have them, I have them, images fabricated that frightened us, warned us, (don't talk to strangers, don't walk home alone, etc) shaped our view of the world. But Azoulay argues no one owns a real photograph. She argues, the viewing of a real photograph cannot not simply be deciphered as an exchange between photographer and subject, (the spectrum from which Fried largely discusses work). She sees the photograph a a civil contract which should invoke the viewer to actively engage and respond. Azoulay urges us to stop looking and to start watching. Azoulay privileges watching over looking as the act of looking relates to notions of time, space and movement, rather than simple of moment passed. She urges us to participate in civic skill, reconstructing the the cause and implications of the suffering, rather than exercises of aesthetic appreciation. In other words, Fried's method of unravelling what a photograph contains and even Sontags, is what Azoulay would consider the wrong, or faulty method of reading a photograph. Azoulay calls for us to view ourselves as "civil spectators" (14), seeing our citizenship as a "tool of struggle" or "an obligations to others to struggle against injuries inflicted on those others, citizen and non citizen alike" (14). Azoulay is urging us to be active, politically aware spectators and photographers in a world where disregarding the political image is a widley accepted practice.

The concept of citizenship is central to Azoulay's thesis. She remarks that citizenship "gradually became the prism through which I began observing things" (15). What Azoulay witnessed around her as she progressed in life forced her to think of citizenship in a new way. She realised that not everyone was being treated equal. Two factors were central to this realization, the first, being the Occupation of Palestine by the Israelites and the oppression, terror and suffering this caused her to witness and secondly, the oppression and abuse of women in society. She explains that both sections of society, women and Palestinians were repressed and silenced by the false statuses they were given. Women were seen as full citizens and the Palestinians as "stateless persons". If women are seen as full citizens, it is perceived there is no reason to complain of their problems. As for Palestinians, they are invisible, they do not have a voice, even a pretend one prescribed by the government. Azoulay notes that atrocities towards women, such as rape, are not natural disasters and that the privilege of citizenship is not a natural place in the world. Azoulay sees real problems with these false statuses in society. She also find problems with terms such as "occupation", "Green Line", or "Palestinian State". Azoulay explains that these buzz words, if you will, often heard on the news, only circumscribe one's field of visions. She notes that this kind of tunnel visioned observation adds to the testimony of what Barthes describes as proof that something "was there" (16). Azoulay criticises this kind of observation as it implies that what was photographed was there and is still currently there. Therefore, the photograph is easier to take in as it is "less susceptible to becoming immoral". I think what Azoulay means here, is that focusing on repeated terms or the "presentness" of a photograph cuts off further thought, the thought about what happened before and after the event, where the person is now, if the person received justice or not, what is outside the frame, etc. Words become meaningless, just as pictures do, if uttered out of context too frequently. I can remember hearing the words "Gaza Strip" or "The Troubles" various times as a child and having no idea what they meant. Unexplained photographs, just like unexplained words, steer us away from any understanding of the issue at hand. They sheild us from the issue, convincing us it is something we are not concerned with. Azoulay sees the photograph as a political space and does not believe in the limitations of the document of simply "being there." This is something a critic such as Fried completely ignores in his writing. Azoulay claims her writing of this book is an attempt to "enable the rethinking of the concept and practice of citizenship" (17). Personally, I find Azoulay's mission more compelling and relevant than Fried's could ever be. I think what Fried touches on in his book is something extremely important. Theatricality and anti-theatrically is a very solid formula for viewing photographs. However, is this was infused with ideas such as Azoulays or even Sontag's, Fried's words would be much more applicable and relevant. Where I struggle to understand Fried's words, I find applications for what Azoulay says everywhere (I notice I can make much more sense of the work of female authors, which is an interesting side topic, but that's a whole other discussion).

Southworth and Hawes, 'The Branded Hand of Captain Jonathan Walker'.

"When the photographed persons address me... They cease to appear as stateless or as enemies" (17). With this sentence, Azoulay sums up the power of photography when both photographer, subject and spectator are engaged in civil contract. Take for example the photograph by Anat Saragusti. Azoulay notes that his action of holding up a broken lock, evidence of damage done to his business by Israeli paratroopers, is not a request for sympathy. Rather, his stance is a refusal to accept non citizen status thrust upon him by the state. Azoulay goes onto to describe exactly what is a civil contract to us. She uses the earliest example she can find, a picture of the branded hand of Captain Jonathan Walker, a man condemed as a "slave stealer" after attemtping to liberate a group of slaves. What is interesting about this section is Azoulay's discussion of the "virtual community." Azoulay notes that by releasing this photograph, Walker was attemping to ignite a civil contract. He was seeking out people who understood the injustice he was fighting against. These people did not belong to a particular segment of society or insitution. All that mattered is that they understood the civil contract, as it still exists today, the attempt to create a universal citizenship, an uninterupted voice that is free from the constraints of any dictatorship or sovereign (23). As Azoulay states, her book is foued on a "new ontological understanding of photography" (23), one which includes photographer, subject and spectator and the "unintentional effect of the encounter between all these" (23).

Azoulay put this forward to us in her next paragraph or two:

• Citizenship is "a status, instituion, set of practices" (24).
• We are all governed. Though some are given citizen stauts, some non-citizen. For example, Isreali Jews and Israeli Palestinians.
• However, whoever falls under the umbrella of the term governed is not afforded the luxury of equality of civil rights. Israeli Palestinians are treated as second class citizens even though they are governed. Women are treated as second class citizens even though they are labeled as full citizens and governed.
• Thus, the use of the camera allows for the creation of a politcal space or a common ground for "citizens and non citizens alike".
• Azoulay sees photography and citizenship as very similar. Both should be free of any soveregn power and should be "indifferent to the ties from kinship through class or nation - that seek to link part of the governed to one another and exclude others" (25).
• Azoulay also claims "photographs bear traces of a plurality of political relations".
• Azoulay want the civil contract of photography to create a "borderless citizenship" (26) and sees photographs produced by politically aware citizens as "traces of civic skill"

Azoulay continues on to give a short summary of each chapter of the book. She makes some significant claim here, for example, she discusses that "photographs do not speak for themselves. Alone, they do not decipher a thing." I can see many critics, perhaps Barthes disagreeing with this, but Azoulay has a point. We can look at a photograph and make as many subjective judegments as we want and these are indeed significant. However, the true, intended meaning of a photograph, cannot be understood without accompanying explaination, be it through text or discussion. This statment perhaps applies, or is more important to political or confrontational photographs then all images universally. Here we can compare Fried's work to Azoulays. Is her thesis only applicable to the seriousness of images of suffering or injustice? Is Fried's only applicable to "art" images. I don't think so. I think both theories cross over. I would love to know what Fried thinks of a photograph such as Anat Saragusti's picture of the man holding up his broken lock. How would Fried discuss this? Is it a theatrical gesture, asking something of the viewer in return? Or is he absorbed in his own outrage? What would Azoulay think of Fried's formula for image criticism? Would she push it aside as irelevent in comparison to pictures of real suffering (no subject has to pretend or pose in these, they too busy fighting for their lives). Obviously both authors are focussed on their particular field and this is why they have chosen to release a book about their findings. I think tis itneresting that both Sontag and Fried champion Wall's 'Dead Troops Talk' as the ultimate war photograph that seems to say it all about our generation. I disagree and I think Azoulay does too. Azoulay is interested in photographs that lay the bear bones of a situation out on the table for the viewer. This is the problem, this is what is going on and we need your help as a fellow citizen (or non-citizen) to fix this. The photographs Azoulay discusses are not looking for sympathy or pity, they are looking to add to a chain of events that will insigate action and real, tangible change.

Fried: Chapter Seven and Conclusion.

The chapter I chose for our group reading of Fried was number seven: Portraits by Thomas Struth, Rineke Dijkstra, Patrick Faigenbaum, Luc Delahaye, and Roland Fischer; Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parenno's film Zidane. The main device of this chapter is to study how notions of anti-theatricality have evolved through the portraiture section of what Fried sees as a new regime of photography. Fried dissects the work of each artist and discusses how the work evokes notions of anti theatricality. The most interesting dimension of this chapter is the consideration Fried takes of the 'viewer' or 'audience' of the photograph and how the projected gaze or 'absorption' of the model depends on their awareness or 'unawareness ('oubli-de-soil') of its existence.

Thomas Struth, 'The Hirose Family, Hirosima, 1987'.

Thomas Struth, 'The Smith Family, Fife, 1989'.

Fried begins by discussing the issue of absorption and theatricality. He uses the work of Struth to demonstrate this issue. Fried notes that in the 1700's, the general consensus was that painting was only acceptable as valid art if it depicted its subjects as wholly absorbed in activity, unaware and ignorant of any form of viewer or audience. He notes that the limitation of painting was an issue at this time, as it was thought that portraiture and theatricality went hand in hand, therefore one could not be depicted truly through this medium. To counter this, it became essential that the subject in no way suggest they are aware of being transformed into an object to be looked at. He uses the example of Van Loo's painting of Diderot to solidify this. Fried mentions that Diderot was unhappy with the depiction, as he was being engaged by the artist, rather than left to his own thoughts and therefore he appears 'aware' or theatrical. I find this quite the contradiction, as the painting reminds me of a candid snapshot, taken mid sentence, displaying the sitter 'off-guard' and therefore more natural, but clearly Diderot does not acknowledge this. This brings us to the contrast between painting and photography with regards to portraiture.

Louis Michel Van Loo, 'Portrait of Denis Diderot, 1767'.

One of the most striking features of Struth's family portraits is that of familial resemblance. Fried notes the ability of photography to represent phenomena such as this so effortlessly is one of its strong points. He sees this as one of the main ontological differences between painting and photography. He uses Wittgenstein's quote about the absurdity of attempting to display resemblance in panting, as it could simply be perceived as a style or habit of the artists. Where as in photography, it is instantly accepted that the models are different people despite the similarities of their physical features. Fried discusses the work of Struth in relation to this matter, thus beginning the main discussion of the chapter. Struth photographs families whom are close friends of his. He allows the family to choose their positions and poses in the photograph and he makes a point to step aside from the camera when shooting, using a shutter release cable, in order to remove himself from the situation, as if the family is sitting in front of a mirror rather than a photographer. What is most important however, according to Fried, is that Struth avoids the theatrical at all costs. Fried also discusses various critical opinions of Struth's work, noting that it has always been received unenthusiastically. Critic Charles Wylie claims that 'awareness is the hallmark of these figures' (199) and that each family is a 'psychologically intense entity'. He feels that the families awareness of themselves and their natural and played out connectivity combines to create the force of the picture. He recommends we read each family member as a separate entity and also as connected to a larger group. Fried believes this is too much to ask of the viewer and discusses the opinion of Norman Byron, who sees it as more productive to decipher the positional pattern chosen by the family and what this connotes. In his usual manner, Fried discusses the photographs extensively. However, what is most important is Fried's discussion of what makes these photographs anti theatrical. Fried call these works a 'tour de force of anti theatrical art' (204). He sees an achievement in Struth's work of the re staging of could potentially be theatrical. By taking such care to ensure the subjects gaze is concentrated on the lens and they are wholly aware of themselves (it should be noted that Fried's exposure are up to one second long and he shoot around 40-50 sheets per sitting), Struth's subjects, despite staring out of the picture, are absorbed in the activity of being photographed.

Rineke Dijkstra, 'Beach Portraits'.

Rineke Dijkstra, 'Mothers'.

Fried move on to discuss the work of Dijkstra. He notes that Dijkstra, unlike Struth, shoots strangers. However, her subjects are fully aware of th camera and are placed in a similar position to Struth's families. Fried points out that Dijkstra cites Diane Arbus as one of her main influences. Dijkstra notes that she is interested in what Abrus calls the "gap between intention and effect", in other words, Dijkstra is interested in what happens when neither her nor the subject is fully in control. For example, she is interested in what happens when she lets the model pose themselves and how they are unsure of what to do with their hands, etc. She is interested in the awkwardness of her subjects. This is particularly visible in her portraits of teenagers. However, where Arbus exploited this gap and displayed her subjects as freaks, Fried believes that Dijkstra's portraits de psychologicalize it. Arbus highlights a tragic side of society whilst Dijkstra draws attention to a natural and strangely beautiful part. Fried is interested in Dijkstra's photographs as they display something that painting could not, at least in Diderot's time. However, he notes the 'complimentary structure of awareness and unconsciousness' of the photographs are truly Diderotian in spirit and therefore wholly anti-theatrical. Fried takes this opportunity to enforce two further points. Firstly, he discusses Barthe's opinion that any photography that contains an outward gaze is founded on pose and theatricality. Fried feels the photographs he has discussed shatter this notion and leaves Barthe's opinion void. Secondly, he claims that the awareness of the camera displayed in both Struth and Dijkstra's work solidifies his opinion that, post-minimalism, it was necessary for art to acknowledge 'to-be-seeness' in the course of pursuing anti-theatrical aims. Therefore, separating anti-theatricality from 'to-be-seeneness' and establishing it 'on significantly new ground' (214). basically, what Fried is saying, that with the emergence of such work, anti-theatricality no longer meant avoiding gazing at the camera, hence why he is so interested.

Patrick Faigenbaum, 'Del Drago Family, 1987'.



Patrick Faigenbaum, from 'Vies Pararlles'.

Following this, Fried discusses the work of Patrick Faigenbaum. Firstly he discusses his work photographing aristocratic Italian families. The photographs are profoundly formal. Faigenbaum arranges his models, taking care to connote the family dynamic and relation to their surroundings. He notes that he is fully satisfied with the portrait when 'I am able to leave my model to himself...as if he were at home without any witness' (215). Obviously this connects to notions of anti-theatricality. Faigenbaum also actively tried to imitate a painterly style by touching up his photographs using a technique called chiaroscuro where the contrast between shadows and highlights is increased. He also prints his photographs on a matte finish paper. Fried notes all this allows the viewers gaze to 'sink into the surface rather than glide past it' (215). What Fried is more interested in, however, is Faigenbaum's series of busts of Roman emperors, 'Vies Pararlles'. Fried is interested in these images, as they represent a full invitation to, 'to-be-seenness' and display subjects engaging in full absorption, of course, as the subjects are representations of people lost in their own thoughts. Not only are they not really looking at us, they are not even real. Fried suggests that creating work that deals with anti-theatricality so intensely encouraged Faigenbaum to turn towards an absorptive esthetic in his later work. Fried also notes obvious comparisons to Hiroshi Suigimoto's work on wax figures of Henry VIII's wives at Madame Tussaud's wax work museum in London.

Hiroshi Suigimoto, (Wax Figures of Henty VIII's wives).

Moving on, Fried discusses the work of Luc Delahaye. The body of work he is discussing is 'L'Autre', a set of portraits similar to Evan's 'Many Are Called', shot secretly on the Paris Metro between 1995-1997. What struck me first about these photographs was the almost eerie resemblance they share with Faigenbaum's busts or Suigimoto's wax figures. This particular body of work interests Fried, but also me very much so, as I am extremely interested in studying the effects of urban living on the human psyche and Delahaye's work, similar to Evans, is a fascinating example of this. Fried notes that this work is 'claustrophobic in its intensity' (222) as the photographs are shot at a much closer range than Evans'. Why does this work interest Fried? It is a contradiction. The subjects are painfully aware they are coming under the enforced gaze of the occupier in the seat facing them and therefore put up what Georg Simmel calls a 'psychic armour', (1903 The Metropolis and Mental Life). The subjects put on a farcical show, which is rather comedic when one thinks about it really, pretending they are alone in order to avoid any emotional connection to those surrounding them (Simmel notes that if a city dweller engaged with every person encountered in such a situation in city life, the result would be a form of intellectual or emotional break down). However, Delahaye intrudes on this psychic armour with his camera and transforms this theatrical display into the anti-theatrical. In terms of the camera, none of the models are posing or acting, in direct contrast to the real life situation. I find this notion of how the introduction of the camera into a situation can transform such a process. Delahaye's portraits also connect back to Fried's previous discussion of the book Temple of Dawn, as the photographer notes 'more than anything, I wish to disappear' (222).

Luc Delahaye, 'L'Autre'.



Roland Fischer, 'Nuns and Monks'.

Fried continues on to discuss the work of Roland Fischer. Fischer is interested in seizing things in their 'leur etre-la', their 'being there'. His work comprises of large head shots of monks and nuns. Fried notes the work 'perfectly exemplifies' anti-theatricality and his new photographic regime, as the subjects photographed live a life that is supposedly free of anything but absorption in their faith. I would argue that, yes these photographs do exemplify Fried's opinions perfectly, but there is also a questionable element of theatricality in this work. Are subjects are playing out their 'holiness' for the camera? Or are they truly absorbed in their beliefs? For me, this is questionable and the photographs raise many other questions in my mind, but for Fried, the main significance is the element of anti-theatricality and absorption.

Finally, Fried discusses the film 'Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait' by Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno. This film focusses on Real Madrid footballer Zinedine Zidane. The movie was made with seventeen cameras focusing on the player during a match between Villareal and Real Madrid. The film glorifies Zidane as one of the centuries best football players, following his expulsion from the 2006 World Cup after head-butting an opposing team member. Fried describes the tantalizing visual and audio effect of the movie which has obviously enthralled him. He notes that the noise of the crowd in the background mixed with Zidane's statements appearing in the subtitles, hard breathing noises, music by the Scottish (amazing) band Mogwai, silence and close up motion shots, action shots of foot work, along with wide angle shots of the exciting football game makes for an intriguing visual experience. I can see why Fried is attracted to such a film for two reasons. Firstly, the directors cite Goya, Velazques and Andy Warhol as their inspirations, therefore connecting it to a tradition of modernist painting. Secondly, the point of the film is to display how truly absorbed Zidane is in his performance, but showing at the same time his hyper awareness of the crowd and the cameras. Fried believes this so much so that he claims one can only fully understanding the movie 'requires viewing it against the background of the issues traced in the present chapter and more broadly, this book' (228).

There is a reason Fried chose these specific pieces to discuss in this chapter. Each work is an example of what Fried considers to be a 'new photographic regime'. He sees these works as coming to grips with the problems of portraiture that came to light in the 1700's. Anti-theatricality has evolved from a complete (supposed) unawareness of being beheld, as in the work of Greze and Chandin to a hyper awareness and being absorbed in the very act of being observed. Freid sees this type of photography as a 'realm of to-be-seenness.. with a vengeance' (230). Fried sees this work as the anti-thesis of anti-theatricality, in its evolved state. For example, Fried notes that the very fact that Gordon and Parenno made a film dealing with Zidane's awareness and simultaneous absorption is an affirmation of his theories, that issues of theatricality and anti-theatricality are more important than ever. Fried notes that this new hyper awareness does not in anyway undermine the art. He is also fascinated by the various forms of absorption, involved, uninvolved, distracted, forgetful, etc. This chapter makes very clear why Fried believes photography matters as never before: the work being made solidifies his theories of anti-theatricality and absorption.

Conclusion:

Jeff Wall, 'Adrian Walker'.

Fried begins his conclusion by making it clear that despite his claim that photography matters as art now as never before, he does not believe that art, pre 1970 is not as valid or important as art now. Fried, however, sees contemporary photography post 1970 as exemplifying his theories of anti-theatricality and absorption and there for claims photography matters as never before. He discusses questions of whether photography is art or not, by quoting Benn Michaels who notes photography, rather than painting raises fundamental questions about representation. He also discusses James Elkin's discussion of the photograph as an indexical object, therefore, a non art object. Michaels along with Fried, however, firmly believes that it is this very factor that makes photography such a powerful tool of contemporary art (336). Fried sees the issues of photography as overriding the issues of painting. For example, he discusses the problems of portraiture (Evans questionable portraits with the FSA, Arbus' demeaning photographs of 'freaks') and how the real issue at hand is a notion of theatricality and anti-theatricality and how it is employed. He sees a photographer such as Arbus as abusive of the technique, (abusing the gap between intention and effect) but a photographer who works similarly, such as Dijkstra, as employing anti-theatricality perfectly. Fried repeats many of his comments made about the work of Dijkstra, Struth, Bustamante and Wall and I will therefore not go back into detail as I would be wasting your time. Fried does however pay particular attention to Wall, comparing his photographic style to Manet, noting he moved towards an alternative revolutions of pictorial modernity (341). He notes that his photograph 'Adrian Walker' represents a shift in Wall's working method, his realization that such a revolution would be impossible and thus, a return to previous methods of absorption.

However, this break, as Fried sees it also represents a shift in anti-theatricality. The pressure to represent subjects absorbed in activity was no longer tangible. Now, this type of representation is a choice, a technique, (most obviously employed by Wall), not a necessity. According to Fried, artists no longer try to come up with alternatives to theatricality, but simply embrace anti-theatricality. A good example of this is Struth's portraits of families. Fried also notes that all this progress is only important and relevant against a backdrop of Diderotian history. Fried goes on to mention a number of works in detail that owe their success to anit-theatricality, such as Struth's Pergamon Museum series, Gursky's motifs, Delahaye's metro portraits. Fried also discusses works that connect to notions of the experiential, indeterminacy and minimalism (Suigimoto's 'Seascapes', Struth's 'Paradise', Bustamante's 'Tableaux'). Fried begins to confuse me at this stage as my knowledge of such subjects is limited. I think he brings these themes into the conversation in order to display the connection his previous writings still has to current art. He goes on to discuss Barthes text 'Camera Lucida' as an anti-theatrical text and therefore representing 'a new imperative to come to grips with the issue of theatricality' (346). He mentions writers such as Wittgenstein, Lacan, Deleuze, Pippin and Hegel and ponders which authors offers the most valid theory on art. Again, I feel unequipped to comment as my reading experience with these authors is very limited. At this stage, I wonder is Fried digressing, or am I just out of my depth. The only point I could really understand out of this paragraph was his quote about photography being illuminated by ontological thought whilst also contributing to such thought.

Jeff Wall, 'After "Spring Snow", by Yukio Mishima, chapter 34, 2000-2005'.

Gustave Courbet, 'Wheat Sifters'.

Fried begins his final section with two quotes, one from the book 'The Sea of Fertility' and the other from Wittgenstein. Both quotes deal with notions of the world as eternal present and this is where things get rather philosophical indeed. Fried discusses the book, 'The Sea of Fertility' and its relation to Wall's 'After "Spring Snow", by Yukio Mishima, chapter 34, 2000-2005'. This photograph represents a scene from the book where Satako empties sand from her shoe in order to keep secret her forbidden meeting with her lover, Kiyoaki, as we all have read. Fried chooses to close with this photograph as he feels it perfectly exemplifies 'robustness of absorption as a pictorial trope' (350). He sees deep similarities of the photograph to Courbet's 'Wheat Sifters' and therefore sees Wall's picture as a perfect visualization of all he believes in. The photograph represents anti-theatricality and absorption and it has deep roots in modernist painting and writing. In relation to the book, Fried notes the character Honda's affinity for Buddhist beliefs in 'alaya consciousness', a consciousness that discards the past and focuses only on the present, seeing every moment except the very moment we are in as non-existent. Fried takes this opportunity to mention a quote by Jonathon Edwards discussing God's desire to maintain the world in the present. He notes that a critic, Jennifer Ashton sees similarity in what has been said to Fried's Art and Objecthood's critique of Minimalism. He notes that Wall's photograph and such theories of art as absorption and presentness over minimalism and also theories of 'alaya consciousness' are all interconnected and are 'hauntingly anti-theatrical' (352).

So what's Fried's point? I am very unsure and this frustrates me greatly. Chapter Seven made a lot of sense to me and I could see real connections to his arguments and contemporary art. I could understand how, yes, some works owe their success to anti-theatricality and this is largely left ignored. His examples were clear and illustrated his points rather successfully. However, when he began to philosophize and connect his writing to some sub rooted web of spiritual theory, that's when I lost interest in even attempting to decipher what he was trying to say. Fried has some really interesting things to say. His points are valid and very pertinent and essential to understanding a large portion of art. If he avoided going long winded and unnecessary paragraphs such as those we had to struggle through in his conclusion, I think his writing would appeal to a much wider audience.

Fried: Introduction and Chapter One.

This weeks text for discussion is 'Why Photography Matters As Art As Never before' by Michael Fried. Though at first skeptical of Fried after reading 'Art and Objecthood' and to be frank, rather irritated by his some what elitist view of art, I found he made some interesting points in this later piece. He attempts to redeem himself slightly by revising some of his previous points and re arguing his thesis. However, I think he discredits a lot of art that doesn't fall into what he calls a 'single photographic regime' (20) and has a very tunnel visioned view of what makes photography 'art'.

I'll begin explaining this by discussing Fried's introduction. He outlines his opinion of how photography became elevated into more of a 'serious art' position in the late 1970's/80's onwards. He notes that photography began to be printed at a larger scale, therefore complying to a Pictorialist tradition, thus pleasing Fried, and as we know, he simply loves observing a good old fashioned aesthetically pleasing picture made 'for the wall'. As examples of this type of new photographic 'regime' he mentions photographers such as Welling, Gursky, Struth, the Bechers, Demand, Dijkstra, Hofer and of course, Wall. He notes that he pays particular attention and indeed, he champions his work. This does not surprise me, nor does his anecdote of his shared views of art with Wall. After reading 'The Story of Art According to Jeff Wall' by Sven Lutticken last year, I realised that Wall is obsessed with placing photography into a Modernist tradition and crafting out his own version of history (overlooking anything that doesn't fit into this criteria'). As impressive as 'Mark of Indifference..' by Wall is as a history, it is certainly leaning towards a Modernist elitism and I personally would see him and Fried as two peas in a pod. I am not saying I don't admire Wall's work or his writing, but it is certainly a version of history, similar to Fried's. I will also note that the artists Fried mentions are some of my favourites, their work is impressive and it really is a fascinating transition to see photographs printed at large scale. However, I do not believe in a 'single photographic regime' and this phrase infuriates me. Photography does not have to be at large scale, (mocking and competing with painting) to be impressive. In fact, simple snap shots printed at modest scale have impressed me just as much as a Wall light box piece. Fried notes that he appreciated pictures in this form also, but that do not impress on him as much as a large scale piece could.

Hiroshi Sugimoto, 'U.A. Walker, New York, 1978'

So how does Fried approach this gargantuan subject? He splits his history into three beginnings. I found this an interesting approach as it fits into the discussion of Terry Smith's piece last week and his concept of 'antinomies'. Fried sees separate strands of this period of art working in tandem. Interestingly, he also mention that in this text he found himself seeing both sides of the argument (how thoughtful of him!) which he had not done before. He says he found himself 'judgmental/non judgmental, engaged/detached'.. etc (4). Again, this connects with the previous text of discussion. Fried splits the three beginnings into what I see as; the Cinematic, the Tableau and the Contre or story. Fried uses these three strands as a tool to discuss the work of various artists in connection to a single subject, whilst employing his own ideas. I will discuss the three strands in detail.

Firstly he discusses the work of Hiroshi Sugimoto, Cindy Sherman and Jeff Wall. The common thread in all these works is that they are discussing or representing cinema. Fried gives an anecdotal quote from Suigimoto, in which he explains how this work came to him almost as a vision. Freid questions this 'solitary brilliant intuition' (5) as he find it suspicious that Sherman and Wall were making work concerning the same subjects at the time. I agree this is a valid point, but find it humorous that Fried is so horrified of the thought of an artist working in solitude and not obsessing over placing himself firmly into a history of photography. The works of Wall and Sherman he compares this piece to is Sherman's famous 'Untitled Film Stills' and Wall's 'Movie Audience, 1979.' Fried chooses to discuss Sherman's work because in these photographs, the majority of the characters she plays are mute, passive characters. They dull their emotions (as she said she didn't 'ham it up' (7) as she wanted to play down the theatricality in order to bring into focus questions of the female role in such films. Fried pays attention to these photographs as they nicely exemplify his ideas of 'anti-theatricality'. He notes that he is not impressed by any of Sherman's later projects after her Art Forum series. Again, no surprise, I can't imagine maimed doll figures posed in sexual positions to raise questions about pornography would be Fried's cup of tea. I must say though, I was impressed to observe that Fried noted the contradictions in Sherman's work. It is both theatrical and anti-theatrical and Fried is surprisingly content with this, although as I mentioned above, the work strengthens his arguments nicely.

Cindy Sherman, from 'Untitled Film Stills'.

Fried uses Wall's piece to discuss issues of theatricality and anti theatricality in cinema. He discusses Wall's view that cinema can not be Modernist art as it provides a form of escapism and absorption. He calls cinema 'a sonambulistic approach toward utopia.' In other words, the cinema has the ability to brainwash us into worshiping popular culture (Walter Benjamin's 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction' comes to mind). Fried sees Wall's piece as the perfect example of cinema as anti-theatricality as there is nothing theatrical about sitting inside the 'machine' (13) that Fried call the movie theater and these photographs study the hypnotic state a cinematic experience puts us in. I agree with these points and find them rather interesting, however, what about film designed to awaken the senses and confront the public with real issues and problems, for example, Michael Moore's 'Bowling For Columbine'. What is hypnotising about a move like that? Fried claims that all three works bring to light issues of theatricality in art and the problems this causes. He urges us to view these works as separate but linked and to focus on the advantage of anti-theatricality.

Jeff Wall, 'The Destroyed Room'.

Fried goes on to discuss The Tableau using again, Wall and also Thomas Ruff and Jean-Marc Baptiste as examples. He again mentions the 'new regime' (14) and reinforces the fact that these images were made to be 'hung on the wall and looked at like paintings' (14). He discusses Wall's piece 'Destroyed Room' in reference to how these works are viewed best in person, on the gallery wall, providing what Fried believes to be a true art experience. He notes that these images are lost when framed in books. This is a valid point, as certainly these photographs are rich in detail that is muted when these pictures are shrunk. I refreshing point made by Fried was that the power of these pictures depended on the viewers ability to 'respond not just intellectually but punctually' (16). This surprised me, as Fried usually favours art work that still impresses him even his it doesn't require this response from the viewer (anti-theatrical). He discusses the work of Ruff and notes that in 1981 his photographs were significantly smaller (22x18cm) but claims that, influenced by these large scale works, he increased his pictures to a handsome 210x165cm. This is an interesting point as it show there was a trend print larger scale during this period. He then discusses the work of Jean-Marc Bustamante and this is where things get really interesting.

Bustamante, from 'Tableaux'.

The reason I found this section interesting is firstly, the discussion of the images is of paradoxes. Fried quotes the critic Criqui as what he sees as 'exactly right' about the work (19). Criqui notes that Bustamante's images do not want to invite the viewer to engage with them imaginatively. Bustamante reinforces this by stating that he wants the viewer to have a 'non-directive relationship' with the images. However, he then notes that he wants the viewer to be 'equally responsible for the work' and that he aims to make the viewer 'aware of the responsibility for what he/she is looking at. (20). So, he wants us to be engaged, yet disengaged. This connects with ideas discussed in the previous class about contradictions in Contemporaneity. The second thing I found interesting is that Bustamante notes that the reason he made his photographs large so that it would become art (22). I find it intriguing that he felt pressured to make his photographs large, again, to compete with painting and to fit into a modernist tradition of tableau in order to feel validated as an artist. I am interested in observing trends in standard photographic display size, as in terms of the Canon of photography. It seems larger scale preludes to 'serious art' whilst modest sized prints can be given an inferior status as they do not attempt to compete with painting. Though larger photographs will always receive more critical attention, I think one characteristic f the contemporary is a shift in how art is perceived as previously mentioned. Due to globalization and the Internet, a large painting style piece is no longer necessary. Finally, Fried makes a confusing statement. Despite is contempt for Minimalism, what he calls 'so called art', he compares Bustamante's pieces to such art work (23) and then titles it 'the most original and impressive in decades' (23). I suppose Freid finds it less intimidating if the techniques of Minimalism are muted and framed within photographic boundaries.

Following the Tableau, Fried moves on to the topic of the 'Contre'. He does so in order to discuss the connection of literature to imagery (I would assume, again, in order to connect photography to a serious and respected art tradition, the art of writing). The first text he discusses is 'Adelaide: Ou La Femme Morte D'Amour', meaning in English, the woman who died from love. In this book, Fried envisions two tableaus from the story. One, a picture of Adelaide's love interest wholly absorbed in his religious work, the other, an image of Adelaide's death following her loves refusal to look at her, as he was pretending to be absorbed to avoid her gaze. So why in the world is he talking about a story from the 1600's? How is that going to have anything to do with the Contemporary? Fried discusses the trend in France in 1750 of absorptive paintings. For a work of art to be acceptable at this time, the subject (especially the women) we supposed to be completely engrossed in their actions, ignorant of the 'outside' or the audience. He notes that confrontational painting (such as Manet's 'Olympia') pointed out the folly of such theatricality, as paintings function was to be looked upon.

Manet, 'Olympia'.

He discusses issues of 'falseness vs truthfulness', and here he makes his point for discussing this story. He feels it is stories like 'Adelaide' that hold responsibility for dramatizing fiction, to pretend there is now audience, not painting. He feels that this story can paint a picture, so to speak, that we do not question, whilst if we to look at this story translated onto canvas, it would seem false. I think this is a fairly valid point that I would more or less agree with. However, I fail to see the problem with painting or photography as fiction that is meant to be real. I enjoy many works that are built this way and don't feel it is bound to one medium.

Fried moves on to discuss another book, 'Temple of Dawn' by Mishima from the early 70's. Fried is interested in this text because it concerns notions of Voyeurism, which he seems as similar to photographic trope. This is a rather odd story about elderly man, Honda spying on a young princess. The main issue of the story is the Protagonist's dilemma of wanting to look at the young woman without effecting or changing her world. He knows the only way this would happen is if he did not exist, which obviously, is impossible. Fried sees the secret invasion of the princess's world as similar to photography that captures it subjects in secret, or unaware. He notes that the moral question of the Protagonist's voyeurism is similar to those that arose in the late 70's in relation to practices of street photography. Honda's desire to be invisible, yet still capture the image relates directly to practices of candid photography. Many photographers want to capture 'natural' images, without their presence intruding on, or influencing the situation. Photographers are at an advantage in the Contemporary world. People are used to cameras. Photographing one another is a widespread social practice, camera are smaller, quieter and faster (at least in the commercial sense). However issues of personal privacy and surveillance are magnified. We are photographed and filmed in secret all throughout the day and the Internet poses a new threat to identity protection, therefore the moral question of candid photography becomes even more complicated. I think the moral dilemma of photographing a world in secret is one that resonates through all eras of photography.

Jeff Wall, 'Dead Troops Talk'.

Finally, Fried discusses 'Regarding the Pain of Others' by Susan Sontag. In this book length essay, Sontag explains her view that documentary war photography unnecessary and suggests that art photography dealing with war is the only way we can be truly touched by such images. She sees Wall's 'Dead Troops Talk' as the ultimate image of war in a contemporary world. Sontag admires this image as none of the soldiers gaze out of the frame and therefore the image reminds us that 'we' (we being those who are fortunate enough to have never experienced war) have no idea what the people have been through and there is no point trying to, as it is truly unimaginable. Fried agrees with Sontag and enjoys this image as it is what he calls 'anti-theatrical'. He is interested in the 'to-be-looked-at-ness' of the image.

Fried concludes by claiming that the images that are currently, in his opinion, significant, are those such as 'Dead Troops Talk'. They are images which fall under a Diderotian thematic of absorption. Fried stays true to his view of 'anti-theatrical' images as those which are superior. He claims that once the concept of a world that would be contaminated simply by being beheld emerged, this esthetic found its home in photography. In other words, Fried sees photography as the perfect medium for his anti-theatrical theory and this is why he is so attracted to it. The essence of photography is to look at the world. However, photographs are more diverse than Fried would like to believe. Photography can confront, but Fried is not interested in this. Fried could have easily called this book, 'The Reason I love Photography Suddenly Is Because It Started To Remind Me Of The Paintings I Like.' Fried champions anti-theatrical painting and therefore, anti-theatrical photography. Photography matters, but not because of the trend of larger scale printing, photography mattered long before that occurred. Contemporary photography has a power that does not require a huge print to get its point across. People are enlightened by photographs they see on their computer screens and in books everyday. Of course, photography deserves the respect of being shown in its full capacity in a gallery space (or wherever it is intended to be shown), but I think Fried is missing out on the bigger picture (excuse the pun) if large scale prints and anti-theatrical stand points are the only reason he see photography as valid.

I won't crucify Fried too much though, as firstly, this type of photography is amazing. I remember the first time I saw a Wall piece in all its large, illuminated glory and I really was gobsmacked. Secondly, this book was written in 2008, but I think its extremely important to note.. Fried is 71 years of age. (Now I feel bad, as if I was bullying my Grandad.. dammit.) Contemporary photography is made by young artists, connected to a young world of emerging trends and practices. I doubt Fried sits at home on his Mac browsing through Flickr and Tumblr to see what the youngest photographers are coming up with. Fried writes about what he sees mostly in the mainstream and in this context, I appreciate his view and think this is a valid and useful text.