Vanessa Winship: And Time Folds @ the Barbican Gallery

This woman is a shit-hot photographer! This is great, great work! I couldn’t help yelping with excitement at some of her pictures. What an eye! What a fantastic eye for finding a good subject, for framing and composition! Each one packs a visual and aesthetic punch.

This is the first major UK solo exhibition of contemporary English photographer Vanessa Winship, who was born in 1960. The exhibition showcases over 150 photographs, along with magazines and diaries, extensive wall texts, experimental works and even audio tracks of Vanessa reading her own poetic prose to the accompaniment of hypnotically repetitive minimalist sounds.

Hand in hand with her photographic genius goes a fair dollop of pretentious curatorspeak and a variety of experiments which are interesting but, in my opinion, fail. But none of this detracts from the brilliance of loads and loads of the photos here.

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship

Unknown pleasures

All the early photos in the exhibition are from photographic projects carried out in Eastern Europe, namely the Balkans, the area around the Black Sea, Turkey and Georgia.

This is a part of the world we almost never hear from. It has cultures and traditions we are completely unfamiliar with, languages none of us can speak (Albanian, Georgian). The people look different, they are from ethnic stock we are unfamiliar with. They dress differently, their ideas of casual, formal or traditional wear are from different worlds. Their histories, the sway of oriental empires over these lands, from the Sassanids onwards through to 20th century communism, have left the landscape and cities littered with statues to heroes we’ve never heard of and leaders whose grandiose visions have crumbled and collapsed.

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship

The subjects, people and places are recognisably human, recognisably European, or at least Caucasian. They come from a recognisable twenty-first century – but it is not the twenty-first century we’re living in.

They are heirs to the colossal wars and dislocations of a twentieth century we can only read about, and to a blanket of totalitarian oppression we can’t really imagine, to centuries of peasant poverty, and they now live amid the crumbling concrete of the failed communist utopia.

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship. 'A choreographer of the states greatest dance company, the world at his feet, had gone on tour with his wife, a young and beautiful dancer. One night after a show a group had gone out to celebrate. They were strangers in that town and didn’t know the streets. A robbery occurred, his young wife had her jewellery snatched. There was a fight, and in the fray a terrible and fatal accident happened. He had fallen into a deep an impenetrable depression. No one knew what to do or how to console him.'

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship. ‘A choreographer of the state’s greatest dance company, the world at his feet, had gone on tour with his wife, a young and beautiful dancer. One night after a show a group had gone out to celebrate. They were strangers in that town and didn’t know the streets. A robbery occurred, his young wife had her jewellery snatched. There was a fight, and in the fray a terrible and fatal accident happened. He had fallen into a deep an impenetrable depression. No one knew what to do or how to console him.’

Discourse and obfuscation

Modern curators and art experts can run rings round us with the jargons of curatorspeak and political correctness, but often have a real problem describing the actual art – the stuff you see, the information the eye processes and transmits to the brain.

It is infinitely easier to write about issues, to invoke the language of sociology and the human sciences and a kind of water-down left-wing politics, to repeat at length the same old clichés of identity politics and political correctness, than it is to describe and explain the aesthetic thrill – what happens when we see and engage with the work.

So, for example, one of the many lengthy wall labels explains that Vanessa’s work is:

concerned with politics, identity, community, home, belonging, vulnerability and the body

which makes her sound the same as virtually every other contemporary artist alive today.

The exhibition includes quite a few of Vanessa’s own words and thoughts. For example, she tells us that her work explores the:

concepts of borders, land, memory, desire, identity and history

Identity, memory, desire, the body, history, community – yawn, it’s like a shopping list, it’s like a list of fillings at Subway.

I imagine a bored sandwich shop worker asking ‘Now, do you want to interrogate traditional gender stereotypes in your roll, or would you rather explore contemporary notions of the body and desire on plain white? And would you like to engage with some lettuce and mayonnaise?’ These are the art critical clichés of our time.

The guide tells us that Vanessa attended art school in the 1980s where she was introduced to post-modern dialogues which radically questioned photography’s ‘truthfulness’ and ‘objectivity’. Surely you have to be a moron to think that photography is truthful or objective? I mean, really, really, really stupid not to know how photographs are tampered with, and cropped, and photoshopped and posed and generally invented and made up in a thousand ways? Always have been. Roger Fenton re-arranged the cannon balls in the Valley of Death at the Crimean War in 1855 to make them look more picturesque. 1855! Lying with cameras has been going on ever since photography was invented.

Is there anybody anywhere who doesn’t realise that?

But it’s easy to write biography, to list the academies an artist attended, the courses she did, the ‘issues’ she was introduced to. By contrast, nowhere is there a description of Winship’s fantastically acute visual perception and technical ability, her gift at fariming, composing and capturing subjects to phenomenal effect. Because that is difficult.

The room of Black Sea photos, taken altogether, is one of the most powerful collections of photos I’ve ever seen.

Here are the people of a strange, remote region – the girls, the boys, the bored housewives, the police. Here are the men, unvarnished, foreign, inaccessible. Men from a completely different tradition and language, behaving, looking, talking from a completely different place than we’re used to.

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship. 'Comfortable in their victory, they were together as one. They seemed absorbed not only by the game, but also by echoes from their place in another time, when they were heroes.'

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship. ‘Comfortable in their victory, they were together as one. They seemed absorbed not only by the game, but also by echoes from their place in another time, when they were heroes.’

There’s a bunch of photos taken on board a fishing ship out in the Black Sea, bleak and cold and wind-wracked, the long nets trawling out from the rusted old equipment. It is an image of the world, the world of work, the work that billions of labouring people have to perform every day.

And yet the wall label tells us that Winship’s Black Sea series focuses on ‘the fragile nature of belonging and a plurality of truths and realities’.

Is that not a completely inadequate use of prose to even remotely capture the visionary precision, the solid realism of other worlds and other cultures which these rooms depict so marvellously? Does this photo depict ‘the fragile nature of belonging’? No. Lots, thousands of other things, yes, marvellously, yes.

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship

Untitled from the series Black Sea: Between Chronicle and Fiction, 2002-2006 © Vanessa Winship

The Humber

Bidding the East Europe rooms a reluctant farewell, we move on to discover that the second half of the show features a room of stunning photographs of the muddy estuary of the Humber river, near where Winship was born and grew up. She applies the same wonderful eye for composition, the same profound understanding of the power of black and white photography, to these empty windswept landscapes.

Untitled from the series Humber, 2010 © Vanessa Winship

Untitled from the series Humber, 2010 © Vanessa Winship

The wall label points out that her photographs ‘trace the roots of the materiality of this place’. I can see what they mean about the sheer slappy quidditas of the mud which dominates these images but… it still seems inadequate to even touch on the power of the images.

Experiments

Many of the photos are accompanied by extended captions and quotations from literary works. Fair enough, but I found the texts added little or nothing to the pictures. Her photos are so far away in a different universe of brilliant that the fairly pedestrian text, for me, just can’t keep up.

In one of the rooms of Balkan photos some pleasant ambient muzak pulses repetitively while Vanessa herself intones some of her own prose poetry.

There’s a room devoted to a project recording Turkish girls in their school uniforms, Turkey having had – apparently – ‘gender equality issues’ for some time. Who knew?

There’s a set of straightforward although rather haunting portraits of schoolgirls in their school uniforms. But next to them was a sequence where photos had been made into collages of the official documents, id cards and birth and school certificates of the girls. Fine, and I can see the conceptual point – they’re just not a patch on the straight photos.

Later on there’s a series – And Time Folds – inspired by Winship’s little grand-daughter, which amounts to several wall-sized arrangements of sometimes overlapping photos of the English countryside – trees, railings, flowers and so on – with her grand-daughter popping up in some of them, looking through railings, snuffling through the grass in wellies, a little like Christopher Robin in the Pooh books.

And they’re in colour, which has a strangely jarring effect after looking at so many photos in black and white. The colour – to my mind – somehow brings out their banality, their everydayness.

Untitled from the series And Time Folds, 2014-ongoing by Vanessa Winship © Vanessa Winship

Untitled from the series And Time Folds, 2014-ongoing by Vanessa Winship © Vanessa Winship

How do you like them apples? They’re OK but… lack the punch of the Balkan works.

she dances on Jackson

The final room was disappointing. Instead of building up to something even more weird and unexpected, it turns out that Winship won the prestigious Henri Cartier-Bresson prize in 2011 (the first woman to do so, cheers, fireworks, streamers), and decided to spend the prize money to fund a journey and a photographic investigation of… America 😦

My heart sank.

She still has a tremendous eye for character and composition, fat (excuse me, ‘heavy’) men being a speciality, here as in the Balkans.

Untitled from the series she dances on Jackson, 2011-2012 © Vanessa Winship

Untitled from the series she dances on Jackson, 2011-2012 © Vanessa Winship

But we have seen too many photos of rural and small town America. Winship discovers, like every other European who’s gone on artistic pilgrimage to small-town America, that the countryside is sparse, the small towns feel empty and listless with their rows of low-rise buildings and traffic lights hanging from wires, the streets are haunted by alienated skater youths and gawky listless teenagers, there are blacks hanging coolly on the corner, here’s a portrait of a smart young man dressed in his U.S. Army uniform – these may all have been new to Winship, and she captures them with trademark precision – but I feel like I’ve seen photos of them all, exactly these same subjects, hundreds of times before.

There is one really new and ‘experimental’ aspect to the and she dances on Jackson project, which is that Winship includes extensive samples of her diary entries and emails to friends, reverently shown in big display cases. These were, not to put too fine a word on it, trite and inconsequential.

I guess life itself is and can be deeply violent

she shares with a friend, in an email dated 7 November 2011, sent at 11:39, and addressed to ‘C’. (Every email includes the addresses, date and time of transmission.) Indeed, I think this is the first exhibition I’ve ever seen which features the artist’s emails as part of the display – and it is a dire warning to all other artists not to bother.

On 24 November 2011 Winship begins a diary entry with these words:

Walking down an empty street in Las Cruces we meet a young couple.

Turns out that the couple had hitch-hiked there, and, now she’s bumped into them, proceed to share some of their stories with lucky Vanessa who, in turn, has shared them with lucky us.

This is all, frankly, dull, unless you are a Vanessa Winship completist, in which case maybe you’ll want to collect all her emails, even the ones about the gas bill and the leaking gutter.

Summary

So some of the experiments – reading prose poetry over music, mixing coloured and different size prints in the And Time Folds sequence, and the inclusion of mundane emails and diary musings – do not, to my mind, succeed.

It doesn’t matter. Who cares? She can include her laundry list in her next exhibition if she wants to. Or a wall-high printout of her phone bill. Just as long as she keeps on taking such beautifully composed, wonderfully framed and arresting photos.

Untitled from the series Imagined States and Desires: A Balkan Journey, 1999-2003 © Vanessa Winship Extended caption: 'It was a strange city, and seemed to have been cast up in a valley one winter’s night like some prehistoric creature. It was not easy to be a child in that place' (Ismail Kadare, Chronicle in Stone)

Untitled from the series Imagined States and Desires: A Balkan Journey, 1999-2003 © Vanessa Winship. ‘It was a strange city, and seemed to have been cast up in a valley one winter’s night like some prehistoric creature. It was not easy to be a child in that place’ (Ismail Kadare, Chronicle in Stone)


Related links

Reviews of previous exhibitions & concerts at the Barbican

Family Values: Polish Photography Now @ Calvert 22 Foundation

Calvert 22 is the foundation and gallery set up to promote art and culture from the former communist countries of Eastern Europe and the USSR.

The foundation as a whole is currently hosting a season titled Family Values: Polish Photography Now, a season of photography and events examining Polish visual culture from the second part of the 20th century through to the present day.

At the centre of the season sits the first exhibition devoted to Polish photography in the UK. The exhibition showcases the work of six photographers who all explore the themes of family and home and often, by implication, the nature of our familiar and social identities.

Zofia Rydet (1911 – 1997)

Having worked as a photographer in communist Poland since the 1950s, and gained some success, with exhibitions held and books published about her work, it was only in 1978, at the relatively advanced age of 67, that Zofia Rydet embarked on the monumental project that was to consume her until she died and to make her name.

She set out to make a photographic portrait of every person in Poland. (The population of Poland in 1978 was 38 million.)

Over the course of twenty years she photographed 20,000 people in their homes, the pace of the project only limited at the end by her increasing physical frailty. The work is known as the Sociological Record (1978 – 1997).

Installation view of photos by Zofia Rydet at Calvert 22

Installation view of photos by Zofia Rydet at Calvert 22

Much admired in Poland, Rydet is only now coming to wide international prominence. Her work – this vast sociological study – has never been seen in the UK before, and it is fascinating.

Most of the photographs were taken in the villages and towns of Podhale, Upper Silesia, and Suwalki. They are almost entirely portraits of children, men, women, couples, families and the elderly shot in their homes amid their familiar belongings.

She cajoled the participants into place and carefully arranged their belongings and possessions around them, subtle indicators of their everyday lives, random objects picked up on holiday or in shops, alongside religious icons and images which (we guess) have a much deeper meaning and power.

Rydet tended to photograph her subjects straight-on, using a wide-angle lens and a flash. The images are static, revealing, and somehow, at the same time, both bleakly realistic but also mysteriously moving.

Couples from the Sociological Record series (1978-1990) by Zofia Rydet. Courtesy The Zofia Rydet Foundation and Museum of Modern Art Warsaw

Couples from the Sociological Record series (1978-1990) by Zofia Rydet. Courtesy the Zofia Rydet Foundation and Museum of Modern Art Warsaw

Rydet broke the Sociological Record down into various sub-categories: TV Sets, Women on Doorsteps, Windows and Disappearing Professions. As you might expect, a key theme is The Family, and Rydet systematically photographed the family in all its possible permutations: men, women, children, married couples, teenagers, grandparents, babies, multiple generations simultaneously, the elderly and the infirm.

Children and Young People from the Sociological Record series (1978-1990) by Zofia Rydet. Courtesy The Zofia Rydet Foundation and Museum of Modern Art Warsaw

Children and Young People from the Sociological Record series (1978-1990) by Zofia Rydet. Courtesy the Zofia Rydet Foundation and Museum of Modern Art Warsaw

The exhibition features 35 photos – just 35 from 20,000! – which take you across or through at least three barriers –

  1. into a communist country, with all that implies in terms of low standard of living and shoddy consumer goods
  2. into an East European country, specifically conservative Catholic Poland, with its distinctive culture
  3. back to the 1970s and 80s where TV had only just arrived, and plenty of people still lived in cabins with very traditional furnishings
Women from the Sociological Record series (1978 - 1990) by Zofia Rydet. Courtesy The Zofia Rydet Foundation and Museum of Modern Art Warsaw

Women from the Sociological Record series (1978 – 1990) by Zofia Rydet. Courtesy the Zofia Rydet Foundation and Museum of Modern Art Warsaw

Note in this photos the peculiar combination of what looks like an embroidered image of the Polish Pope,  John Paul II, hanging on the wall above tacky, blow-up plastic balloons of Hello Kitty and an inflatable telephone. Are these jokes? Or prized possessions of the relatively poor and unsophisticated?

Rydet presents you with loads of deadpan images which invite you, the viewer, to try and puzzle them out. They raise all kinds of questions and thoughts.

Here’s a YouTube video, entirely in Polish which I can’t understand, but which gives a generous sample of stills from Sociological Record.

Józef Robakowski (b.1939)

Józef Robakowski is a leading Polish artist not least because he was one of the first Poles to work with video. In 1981, the year that martial law was imposed in Poland, he was removed from his post as professor at the Film, Television and Theatre State Academy at Łódź.

Forced back on his own resources, Robakowski developed the idea of film-making called ‘personal cinema’. One of the key works in this genre is From My Window which does what it says on the tin. For over 20 years, from 1978 to 2000, Robakowski filmed what he could see out the kitchen window of his apartment.

Film still from From My Window (1978-1999) by Józef Robakowski. Courtesy AK/BRANICKA

Film still from From My Window (1978-1999) by Józef Robakowski. Courtesy AK/BRANICKA

Looking down into the square below, Robakowski’s camera records the daily activities of neighbours or passersby, as well as stray cats and dogs. His retreat into the world of the everyday represents a resistance to the conformist values imposed on Polish citizens by the communist regime.

But the film is also, fairly obviously, a kind of ‘alternative surveillance’, carried out not by the state but by a citizen with an acute eye for incident and composition. A different kind of surveillance. One which claims to be non-political and innocent but… can the human eye ever be innocent of intention and control?

Presumably Robakowski shot a lot of footage. It is represented in the exhibition by a 20 minute-long video which is both humdrum and strangely absorbing at the same time. If you slow yourself right down to Robakowski Time, it becomes beguilingly enjoyable.

Aneta Grzeszykowska (b.1974)

Aneta Grzeszykowska has been responsible for a varied and interesting body of photographic work. In Album (2005) she took over 200 photographs from her private family archive and used Photoshop to remove her own figure from each picture. In Untitled Portraits she used Photoshop to create detailed colour photos of people who don’t exist but are creations using Photoshop.

Untitled Film Stills (2006) was a homage to Cindy Sherman’s work of the same title, in which Grzeszykowska took 70 self-portraits, in each one made up and dressed to appear as a female ‘type’, from housewife to ballerina.

Black is a 15-minute video which starts with her naked body, in black and white, against a jet black backdrop, and slowly bits of it are painted or become black, so that bit by bit her whole body is blacked out, leaving last of all her face, and mouth and then – pop! – all gone.

Black. 2007, videostills

Black (2007) videostill

As a heterosexual man, it would be hypocritical not to mention the pleasure that the sight of a svelte naked young women gives me. It’s noticeable the way that the women artists who make a habit of stripping off generally are young, trim and svelte. ‘Isn’t this kind of counter to everything feminism stands for?’ I asked my woman friend. ‘No, you idiot,’ she replied. ‘The whole point is that the artist is choosing to do this, on her own terms, and thus is empowered by being naked in her own time and space, at her own volition, for her own purposes.’ Still looks a lot like a pinup to me, I grumbled as I walked on.

Grzeszykowska is represented in this exhibition by works from a series titled Negative Book. This is a further working of the ideas of presence and absence obvious in Album, along with the black and white palette from Black.

In Negative Book, Grzeszykowska has taken photos of scenes from family life – from an apparently random selection of ‘ordinary’ families – and printed the negative – a simple strategy which is, nonetheless, quite haunting. But she’s gone a long step further by including herself in each of the photos, as an interloper.

Negative Book #23 by Aneta Grzeszykowska (2012-2013) Courtesy of Raster Gallery, Warsaw

Negative Book #23 by Aneta Grzeszykowska (2012-2013) Courtesy of Raster Gallery, Warsaw

But here’s the real distinctive thing about these photos – whereas the ‘families’ and all their surroundings appear in negative, she herself appears in a strange kind of spectral ‘normality’. Her figure has a kind of spectral glow, but isn’t the same kind of ‘negative’ as the other figures. Takes a while to really register this.

Negative Book #46 (2012-2013) by Aneta Grzeszykowska. Courtesy of Raster Gallery, Warsaw

Negative Book #46 (2012-2013) by Aneta Grzeszykowska. Courtesy of Raster Gallery, Warsaw

It was only by reading the wall label that I learned that Grzeszykowska achieves the affect by painting herself black and white – so there’s a direct link with the film Black – but painting the white bits of herself black and the black bits of herself white.

Just in case we don’t grasp the verbal explanation there is a handy film showing her doing just that, once again, starting from complete nudity. ‘But…’ I turned to my friend. ‘God, men,’ she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Thus she paints her white body black, her black pubes and nipples and eyebrows white, wears a white wig as a negative of her own black hair, and so on. If there’s anything to notice about it stylistically it’s that the painting is done deliberately roughly, slapdash – not to create a scientifically precise effect.

Image result for Aneta Grzeszykowska negative process

And the final effect? For me, with an imagination saturated in the conflicts of 20th century history, I saw her negative photos as weirdly glowing, as if from the after effects of some great radioactive disaster. The first of the two from Negative Book, with the man holding a child, seemed to me like shots from a weird alien landscape, the first humans on an alien planet.

There’s a slideshow of images from Negative Book on YouTube.

Adam Palenta (b.1976)

Cinematographer and director Adam Palenta is a graduate of the Faculty of Radio and Television at the University of Silesia, the Academy of Fine Arts, now the University of Arts in Poznań and the Dok Pro documentary film programme run by the Wajda School.

He was awarded a Ministry of Culture and National Heritage Młoda Polska (Young Poland) scholarship in 2010 and has received numerous commendations and awards for his work, including the cinematography for the short feature, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark Room (2009).

He’s represented here by House on its Head. The film shows the family life of Wojciech Zamecznik (1923–1967), an architect, set designer and eminent poster artist, who made an immense archive of black and white home movies of his family life, meetings and trips with friends.

Palenta was given access to this huge archive and edited it together, incorporating graphic works and experimental materials, to complement the documentary material. The film provides not only an interesting perspective on the artist’s everyday life, but also a rare opportunity to watch simple family life in the communist Poland of the 1950s.

You can watch the entire film on YouTube.

Weronika Gęsicka (b.1984)

Gęsicka is a well-established contemporary Polish photographer. She is represented here by a series titled Traces. In her own words:

The project is based on vintage photographs purchased from an image bank. Most of these photos came from American archives from the 1950s and 1960s.

The photos include family scenes, vacation souvenirs, everyday life, all lit, styled and with a slightly washed-out colour palette reminiscent of those ‘Hey honey, I’m home’ 1950s postcards and adverts. Epitomes, in other words, of an idyllic, utopian vision of American suburban life.

Gęsicka has set out to undermine each of them using Photoshop-style technical manipulation, in highly imaginative and often humorous ways. Here is the archetypal American family at prayer before a Thanksgiving (?) Dinner except that… they are fading away.

Untitled #18 from the Traces series by Weronika Gęsicka. Courtesy the artist and Jednostka Gallery

Untitled #18 from the Traces series by Weronika Gęsicka. Courtesy the artist and Jednostka Gallery

In other photos the people, but only the people, have turned into jigsaws, or have wooden structures instead of heads. My friend liked this one best, but all of them are very good, very imaginative, done with perfect style and taste.

Untitled #1 from the Traces series by Weronika Gęsicka. Courtesy the artist and Jednostka Gallery

Untitled #1 from the Traces series by Weronika Gęsicka. Courtesy the artist and Jednostka Gallery

Gęsicka says:

We know nothing of the actual ties between the individuals in the photographs; we can only guess at the truthfulness of their gestures and gazes. Are they actors playing happy families, or real persons whose photos were put up for sale by the image bank?

This question of identity and purpose may well trouble Gęsicka. ‘Identity’ is one of the buzzwords and buzz ideas of contemporary art.

And if you think for a minute, there is also an obvious influence from Surrealist art – the idea of jarring collages reminding me of no end of works by Max Ernst. Or, at least, Gęsicka’s works are highly reminiscent of Surrealist strategies.

But for the casual visitor and viewer, these ideas and connotations can be set aside. Her images work in themselves, refreshingly quirky, odd, and entertaining. It’s tempting to try and make up captions for some of them.

Gęsicka’s website has a gallery of images from the Traces series, and there’s also a YouTube slideshow.

Which one is your favourite?

Aneta Bartos

Nudes

If you do a Google Images search for Aneta Bartos you immediately discover that she’s taken a lot of soft porn or erotic photos. There’s her standing naked over another naked woman, there’s a suite of shots of a naked man holding his (impressively large) erect penis, two naked women on a bed, two naked women in the corner of a dilapidated room, one lying back against the other while the one behind has one arm across the other’s boobs, the other reaching down to cover her crotch, and so on.

Aneta Bartos online is a festival of nudity.

Self portrait by Aneta Bartos

Self-portrait by Aneta Bartos

As with so many women artists who decide to depict themselves naked, as with Aneta Grzeszykowska above, the woman in question is a) young b) thin c) unblemished, unmarked, perfect. Maybe she is asking questions about the border between art and porn but I’d have thought the answer is pretty simple: these photos are horny.

If we try to put sex out of our minds, the most obvious formal aspect of all these photos is their colour palette and setting. They are very brown and yellow, or sepia. There is little or no white light or black shadow. All the light is yellow, all the shadows are brown. And the locations have a consistent style and feel – dingy. Her nude figures are shot on bare beds, in rooms where the plaster or wallpaper is peeling, the opposite of pristine studio sets.

Naked young men and women, shot in pornographic attitudes, in a soft focus, heavily sepia filter.

Bartos’s dad

So much for Bartos’s internet presence. In this exhibition she is represented by half a dozen or so large prints from her project Family Portrait.

I happened to visit at the same time as a gallery official (a press officer?) was showing a journalist round and explaining each of the photographers’ works. She explained that Bartos’s father was a famous body-builder in Poland, who took part in competitions and publicity and tours.

As Bartos pursued her photographic studies, it dawned on both of them that he himself would make a good subject for study. Hence a series apparently titled Dad on her website which depict Papa Bartos in his jock strap, flexing his muscles in locations around the – presumably – family home, which appears to be in the countryside – here he is posing in fields, opening windows, by a railway track, kissing a sheep.

They have distinctive Bartos characteristics i.e. the isolated human subject is not wearing much, the whole palette is a washed out yellowy colour, and – as far as I can tell from the internet – almost all the photos are out of focus, presumably deliberately. The effect is to make the photos seem old and weathered, antiques, as if hazy memories of distant childhood.

Family Portrait

So, finally, to the dozen or so photos on display here: Family Portrait shows another selection of photos of her father (the solo subject of Dad), but this time with Bartos herself in the shots. It is a series of father and daughter photos. Double portraits.

As usual they are done with that very yellow tone, and all just out of focus. But what gives nearly all of them a rather unsettling tone is the way that Bartos is often as scantily clad as her father.

Mr Bartos the body-builder is just continuing to walk around in his jockstrap, as per normal, this we are used to – and in some shots Aneta is only wearing a bikini because, after all, it looks like summer wherever the photos were shot. Is the problem in your head if you find this a slightly salacious photo?

Lody, from the Family Portrait series (2017) by Aneta Bartos

Lody, from the Family Portrait series (2017) by Aneta Bartos

But it wasn’t me, it was the gallery official who pointed out to the journalist that many of the photos do seem to carry an unmistakable sexual or sensual overtone. In this one, a self-portrait with muscley Dad, Bartos doesn’t need to be wearing a bra and panties. The choice of clothes is sending a strong visual message.

From the Family Portrait series (2017) by Aneta Bartos

From the Family Portrait series (2017) by Aneta Bartos

Admittedly, in seven of the 23 photos from the series on her website, Bartos is wearing a traditional Victorian-style dress which completely covers most of her body, and even what is presumably a traditional head scarf, a restrained and ‘folk’ look which creates a completely different vibe. Is she playing the dutiful daughter of traditional Catholic Polish culture?

Scythe, from the Family Portrait series, 2016 by Aneta Bartos

Scythe, from the Family Portrait series, 2016 by Aneta Bartos

In which case, are all the other poses similarly play acting, role playing – in this one a sort of gangster’s moll or drunk hooker to Dad’s looming strong man?

From the Family Portrait series, 2016 by Aneta Bartos

From the Family Portrait series, 2016 by Aneta Bartos

The more you look, the more disconcerted you become. For me, once I’d become completely inured to the sexual element in the photos, I found myself thinking of them as explorations into the power of the photographic image itself.

Bartos is working with constrained subject matter – self-portrait with father – but creates an astonishing range of images with it. All the commentary I’ve read about them focuses – with lumpen inevitability – on the role of the female, on the way she’s playing with ‘gender roles’ within the ‘traditional family’, with ‘society’s tendency to infantilise women’ and so on.

On this reading the overt sexuality of the photographs is a deliberate challenge to patriarchal ideas of fixed roles, of what a father and daughter should be, of traditional boundaries of behaviour or perception. Fine. I get it.

But I thought there was also something deeper going on. It is not just the question, ‘What does this nearly naked man looming out of the shadow towards the bikini babe swigging from a bottle mean?’, or the way that the image undermines ‘traditional’ ideas of decorum between a father and grown-up daughter.

It is the corrosive way that the series of photos cumulatively undermines your faith in your ability to read any photograph – to ever really know what is going on in a photographic image. It was this increasing sense of uncertainty-of-interpretation, this undermining our confidence that we can interpret anything, which I found the really disturbing thing about Aneta Bartos’s work.

From the Family Portrait series, 2016 by Aneta Bartos

From the Family Portrait series, 2016 by Aneta Bartos

Curator

Family Values is curated by Kate Bush.


Related links

The photographers’ websites

Related blog posts (about Polish history)

Reviews of other photography exhibitions

(more…)

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