Arbus Took New York
Monday, April 26th, 2010In the age of mechanical reproductions, one keeps finding evidence of decay as well as creation, depending on which side of the spectrum one sees the world from. New York offers an unusual way of seeing, where the spectrum sometimes reveals all of its sides, like the way spirits move in between reality’s frames at twilight. The centers never hold, and reveal themselves as never having been capable of holding, so that all they come to serve is as very useful bookmarks.
Photography is a very fitting bookmark for realities, and New York City has never had a shortage of photographers. When Diane Arbus was learning, she had examples in Bill Brandt and Paul Strand, introduced through none other than Steiglitz himself and his famous gallery, and she found herself earning her position in very good company.
Her legacy suggests that she herself left doors to many rooms open, so more good company could join, creating an aesthetic that reveals photography’s domain as less objective than its optimistic beginnings suggested. However, perhaps even the first artists holding a camera themselves suspected that this was no tool for capturing reality as it is. Art has never been successful in holding up a mirror to nature, because nature herself is always in the process of creating and destroying, and it all depends on the position of the one holding the lever at the end of the day.
Or in Arbus’ case, the button on the camera that snaps the capture. Her view of the world was a decidedly dark one, and it’s impossible to see her works without seeing a particular point of view.
The view of the city from a New York boutique hotel always holds the possibility for multiple framings, and sometimes it is dependent on the weather, the relationship with one’s loved ones, or the way the moment speaks from instant to instant. Capturing the greater picture is perhaps a hopeless task, and trying is to walk the hills of Sisyphus, but documenting the evolution of a point of view is when seeing turns slowly but surely into art.