Mare Island

Rounding Error

Fans of The Diary may have noted the recent New York Times report that another bridge over the Mississippi has been closed because of structural irregularities.

Friedlander and Avedon

Richard Avedon, Lee Friedlander, 2002/Lee Friedlander, Richard Avedon, 2002

As kind of an interesting footnote, Fraenkel has both Richard Avedon's portrait of Lee Friedlander and Friedlander's portrait of Avedon (and crew) on display in its back room. What's interesting about it is that the Friedlander is priced at $7,400 and the Avedon at $38,000.

I would concede that Avedon's portrait of Friedlander is the more interesting picture. It's also bigger, and is a beautiful print. I would not concede that history will consider Avedon the more important photographer. On the other hand, I guess, he is dead.

Lee Friedlander

Lee Friedlander, New Mexico, 2001

What’s the best thing about Lee Friedlander?

A couple of years ago, when I was lucky enough to see his current retrospective, now at SFMOMA, in another venue, I would have said: his imagination, his formal and structural imagination. I can’t think of another photographer who so consistently amazes us both by the vantage from which he approaches his subjects and by the amount of information not only included but often perfectly harmonized within his pictures.

Now, though, I’d say: his sense of humor. Or maybe I mean his joie de vivre. Either, I guess, because they’re inseparable. Not just from each other, but from his visual imagination as well. Lee Friedlander loves this world, and shows it not just by including more of the world in his pictures, but by allowing it to arrange itself so happily.

The preternatural combination of these elements in Friedlander’s work really snaps into focus when you think of other photographers known for their sense of humor. No one doubts that Elliott Erwitt, say, was a funny guy with great joie de vivre, but Erwitt’s humor lived in his subjects, or in his juxtapositions of subjects - you know, big dogs and small dogs. Same with Gary Winogrand - no one ever forgets the cow licking the cowboy’s face.

Friedlander’s humor, in contrast, is in the very structure of his pictures. In the same way that a particularly catchy and syncopated rhythm can make you smile, a good Friedlander leaves you almost giddy with appreciation. It’s a gift, isn’t it? From the world to him and from him to us.

(At SFMOMA until May 18; also, at Fraenkel, America by Car, until April 26.)

Mare Island

Half Moon Bay

Berkeley

Yountville

Freewheelin'

Was music ever really subversive? If it was, are those days gone? Or, as some people say, is art inherently subversive, no matter how crass or terrible the age?


William Vollmann’s Europe Central contains some information on these questions, particularly with regard to the Russian artist Dmitri Shostakovich. So do recent Chevy truck ads, with regard to the American artist John Mellencamp.

One conclusion from that information might be that although we like to think of art as subversive, it really isn't. Another is that while it's probably less unpleasant for an artist to be co-opted by General Motors than by General Stalin, the ensuing silence is just as empty.

Rebecca Solnit

Sallie Shatz, Rebecca Solnit, date unknown

Rebecca Solnit is an interesting writer. Interesting, first, for her voice, which is simultaneously that of the memoirist, the journalist, and the critic. Interesting as well for her style, digressive and intelligent. And interesting for her subject matter, which ranges widely but returns almost always to the land.

But what may be most interesting about Solnit is her hopefulness. Her completely unjustified hopefulness, premised, as hope is, on the notion that people are good and will do what is right. Premised, in her own words, on the belief “that people have power; that the power people possess matters; that change has been made by populist movements and dedicated individuals in the past; and that it will be again.”

I don’t know who those people might be. The people I see when I look around are selfish, stupid, and venal. Not you, of course, dear reader, and not a few people I know personally, but all those other people we read about in our newspapers and see on our televisions. And the very worst of them are those who actually have power.

Still, everyone has a foible or two, and I don’t hold Solnit’s against her. Besides, I like what she says about the importance of enjoying your life, with or without hope: “A passion for justice and pleasure in small things are not incompatible. . . . You win a small victory by embodying freedom, justice or joy, not just campaigning for them.”

Small victories are us.

Where She Lived

Is it alive . . . ?

Duane Hanson, George LeChat (aka Traveller), 1988

You know, the more I think about this taxidermy for people thing, the more I like it. I mean, why bury or cremate your loved ones when you can keep them with you? Right where they are today. On the couch! In the bathroom! And think of the testamentary opportunities. You could bequeath yourself to your favorite bar, and there you would be, night and day, as witty and fun as ever. Forever.

Of course, some skepticism remains to be overcome. For example, when I asked my girlfriend what she thought, she actually asked how this new situation would be any different from the present one. Really. I considered telling her to stuff it, but, you know, maybe I'll just put it in my will instead.

Amy Stein

Amy Stein, Trash Eaters, date unknown

Amy Stein’s Domesticated pictures are like fairy tales. You know, in fairy tales it doesn’t matter if there’s really a troll under the bridge or if the house was made of gingerbread. It’s fun to think about anyway. These pictures are like that.

And I suppose it does seem unlikely that those foxes hung around while Stein set up the lights. Or that the bear was actually standing by the swimming pool, with the kid on the diving board, as Stein snuck up to snap their picture. On the other hand, the kid does look petrified, so maybe there was a bear.

As far as I know, Stein isn’t telling, although she does say that each of these pictures “represents a very long and considered process.” That could mean a lot of time in front of the computer, or a lot of freaked out kids running screaming from the pool. Either way, like fairy tales, these pictures are darker than they appear.


Amy Stein, Watering Hole, date unknown

(Not long after I wrote those paragraphs, I learned that many of the animals in Stein’s pictures are stuffed. No, not stuffies, but formerly living animals stuffed by taxidermists. Dead animals conscripted to play themselves in charming tableaux, sort of a cross between Madame Tussaud's and the zoo. Stein may be even darker than I thought. Too bad she couldn’t come up with some stuffed people.)

(At Paul Kopelkin in LA.)

Where She Lived

Think how good that tiger must have felt, if only for a moment. Born in a cage. Lived in a cage. Taunted. Never believing she could jump that wall. Until she did. To hunt and kill, as tigers do. And for just that moment, all was right with the world.