STATEMENT
(PDF VERSION)

In what is arguably its most rudimentary function, photography fixes the object in the photograph for contemplation by the observer; it renders the object static and determinate so that it may, in turn, be held up as an object “of interest”. Photography invites the observer of the object, as concretized by the photograph, to see it, simply, as interesting – as an object of worthy of contemplation.

Now, suppose a given photograph fails to be “interesting”. This may be the consequence of some failure on the part of the photographer, but not necessarily. It may, equally, reflect a failure on the part of the photo viewer. After all, while the photographer is responsible for presenting the object, through his/her photographic art and technique, in a manner that induces inquisitiveness in the viewer, the viewer nevertheless retains responsibility for the range of his/her own imagination, passion and capacity for enjoyment. The photographer cannot impress the viewer who remains unprepared to be enchanted by the world around us. The photographer must invite the viewer, with utmost eloquence, to contemplate the photographer’s chosen object of interest – the object that the photographer has brought to the viewer through the fixing-action of photograph-taking. But the viewer must remain open to the invitation – he/she must be prepared to find the object, as fastened for presentation in the photograph, compelling, worthy of interest no matter how mundane it may otherwise, and superficially, appear to be.

In any event, whether or not the interaction between photographer and viewer is successful, whether or not a given photograph fails to be “interesting”, the object of the photograph, in and of itself, cannot be said to sustain any responsibility for the outcome.  The object itself is aesthetically inert, just as the material universe, the sheer “stuff” of the surrounding world, is strictly speaking morally barren. It is up to us, together, as photographer-artist and photograph-observer, to imbue the object with aesthetic value. Whereas the ancients may have been able to say that beauty (or aesthetic or moral value) resides within the object itself, we inhabit a “disenchanted” world, and are therefore forced to seek out the beauty in things via contrivances of the mind.

How, then, do we find beauty in things? This question, if the above claims are at all plausible, translates into asking how it is that we make beauty in things? My experience with photography has led me to believe that much depends on our choice of methodology, our practical approach to engendering a photographic work of art. Here, “aesthetic formalism” furnishes an answer. Not as a theory in the arts – for, as a theory, aesthetic formalism has been doubted – but rather as a practice, as an approach to photograph-taking. Put simply, aesthetic formalism states that the aesthetic value of an artwork is not derived from or dependent upon anything outside the artwork itself. Rather, what matters is the work’s internal, compositional, formal structure. Formalism does not place emphasis on the artist’s intentions, nor on the context of the work’s genesis, nor on the substantive elements of the work. Instead, emphasis is placed on the manner in which the work’s elements are composed – how they are arranged, juxtaposed and organized (or for that matter, disorganized) vis-à-vis each other.

Simply put, where photography is concerned, what matters is how the photograph looks, not what it is a photograph of, or what story it tells, or if it has historical significance, and so on. In this vein, the work produced, say, by the documentary photographers of the Magnum agency are not practitioners of aesthetic formalism, for the interest of their work depends heavily on its substance, on what the photographs are of (usually “exotic” looking people, in “exotic” looking places). On the other hand, some of the “abstract” work of, say, Minor White is interesting not because of any obvious and immediate interest-value in the photographic objects themselves (for example, White's photo of peeling paint), but rather because of the manner in which the work is put and held together, its manner of construction … its internal, intra-photographic architecture, as it were. From the standpoint of aesthetic formalism, it should, in principle, be possible to produce an “interesting” photograph even when the photographer is presented with the most mundane materials. (I have to note that aesthetic formalism suits me well, as it happens, for other reasons: being a non-professional photographer, I cannot afford to travel to exotic locations in search of exotic peoples and/or things. What I encounter, daily, for the most part makes for mundane material for photographic imagery, and so I cannot help but turn necessity into a virtue … if I happen to be stuck within the confines of my house for days on end, I had better find a way to turn my stucco ceilings into photographic imagery “of interest”.)

Aesthetic formalism cannot, of course, be taken too seriously, nor should form/substance be treated as a kind of absolute dichotomy. For, some photographers achieve a truly incredible balance between formal composition and substantive weight in their image making – foremost among our contemporaries is Edward Burtynsky, who, in terms of this kind of balancing feat, is in my view a true and unsurpassed master.

In my own photographic practice I tend to adapt a more formalist stance. However, I am by no means a puritan in this regard, since that, ultimately, is quite impossible. And so, if an observer were to ask me, “Why should I look at this? What is of interest here?”, I would have to point to something more than internal formal structure of my images. To the extent that I am able to offer any kind of authoritative comment on my own photographic work (which is always doubtful), the objects that I choose to present to the viewer through photographic production, the fixing action of photography, are objects of interest because they, the objects, are simultaneously products of human choice-making (artefacts) and of nature/chance (non-artefacts).