explorations in toronto art.

Jessica Eaton gave a talk/guided visit at her exhibition at Red Bull on Thursday evening, and it raised some interesting questions in my mind. I’d written about the exhibition already, but I was pretty pleased to hear her talk about the work— while it’s visually stunning, it’s a bit enigmatic and the exhibition didn’t exactly spell it out for viewers (and rightfully so.)

She began by discussing her process, her inspiration (best expressed as questions she was interested while making the work), and problems (technical and conceptual) she encountered in the project. I have to admit, even after turning it over in my mind for a few hours, I’m still a bit mystified, and I should have a head start because of my background in photography! In the end, though, I believe this is a good thing; art shouldn’t be fully explained nor is it explainable. The conceptual questions she had in mind were more interesting.

The project “Cubes for Albers and LeWitt” grew out of Eaton’s interest in colour theory, which she explained as having some roots in her experiences with colour darkroom printing, and the notion of colour “correctness.” Painters, she asserted, don’t have this problem— no one bats an eye when they see someone with a green face in a painting; photographers have more trouble escaping the pressure to be tied to visual realism. Although I’d point out that this example doesn’t apply to Eaton’s compositions, since the cubes would be equally real-looking in any colour, I see this as an interesting inkling of rejecting “correct colour.”

One nerve that she hit with me was the constant comparisons of painting to photography. As someone who recently did a BFA in photography, I get irked by how some artists-photographers overtly align their work with painting, as if to make it very clear that they are Serious Artists. I understand the difficulty in this area (and not just because I’m sick of explaining that even though I went to photo school, no, I am not a wedding photographer, etc etc) but it’s a pet peeve that I think is valid.. especially when I overheard viewer comments of “Wow, this one’s so beautiful; it looks like a painting!”  However, I tried not to let it get the better of me— Eaton’s work is so inherently photographic, and her exploration of colour theory is so fundamentally different from painterly colour theory that to explain it means differentiating it from painting; painting cannot be absent from the discussion.

Eaton also brought some of the cubes she worked with to help explain the layering of light that occurs on the film in her camera, and did her best to explain, in a cursory way, the differences between additive and subtractive colour— not an easy task! So definite kudos for that. It’s interesting, multi-layered work that I’m glad came to my attention; it seems important and timeless while also tapping into the analog-revival zeitgeist. I hope to see continued efforts in the new year from this fascinating artist.

Most of my photographer friends who still use film cite the happy accident as their primary reason for doing so. It’s a nicely romantic idea, and can help photographers create pleasantly random results. But as film seems to have begun its descent into “historical process,” it’s nice to see that artists are finding new and innovative ways to harness the power of the happy accident using digital technology. I’m not talking about mimicking film, even though those techniques have a certain following, and can be pretty fun (the Poladroid freeware in particular.) I’m referring to works that use only the scanner to create the image, like the ones I recently saw on my friend Leanne’s blog and photostream.

shoreline, by Leanne Eisen

Judging by the images on her blog, Leanne has been doing extensive experimenting with different techniques in scannography. Most of them have the feeling of abstract digital paintings or line drawings on black, but some, like the image above, almost have the look of the half-developed sheets of photographic paper that I used to scavenge from the darkroom wastebaskets because I thought they were so lovely.

But nostalgia for materials aside, these are seriously intriguing images. Some have an almost-scientific quality to them that turns me off a little, or at least doesn’t grab me in the same heart-pulling way that the soft, dreamy ones do. Even so, the mass of lines reminds me about how scanners actually pick up information from objects, flat surfaces, negatives, and the like. The tangles make me think that Leanne’s tricking the technology, forcing it to bend to her artistic will, and in the process, the software revolts and goes haywire. This could be part of the appeal for me—or it could be the fascination of not really knowing quite how the images are made.

More of Leanne Eisen’s work can be found on her website: www.leanneeisen.com