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Photography writ large
Photography writ large Andreas Gursky An exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, USA, showing until May 15, 2001, then at the Museu Reina Sofia, Madrid, Spain, July 19–Sept 30, 2001.
Time Square (1997)
In books, catalogues, and magazines, where Gursky’s prints are reproduced in inches rather than yards, his photographs look traditional. For example, you’ll spot majestic winter scenes. He’s taken views of modern architecture,
2001 Andreas Gursky
T
photographers. Gursky, however, has become a crossover artist. In a world where installations are confused with the values of sculpture, and photography has taken over wall space previously reserved for paintings, this ambitious German has entered the Pantheon consecrated to “Art”.
2001 Andreas Gursky
he Museum of Modern Art’s midcareer survey of photographs taken between 1984 and 2001 by Andreas Gursky, a 46-year-old Rheinlander, was eagerly anticipated. The hype began last September when critics, curators, and other photographers told the New York Times how much they were looking forward to seeing this show. Simultaneously, the prices for Gursky’s gargantuan-sized prints entered the stratosphere last autumn at auctions in New York, and they pulled even higher prices at winter sales in London. Although the MoMA retrospective was 2 months away, major articles about the artist and his work began to appear in January. Artforum published two cover stories and profiles ran in the New Yorker and Harper’s Bazaar. At one time or another, somewhat similar attention has been lavished on Cindy Sherman, Robert Mapplethorpe, Diane Arbus, and perhaps one or two other photographers. But it was their subject matter—AIDS, suicide, or some such topic—that put them in the spotlight. Moreover, these gifted individuals never lost their primary identity as
Paris, Montparnasse (1993)
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • April 21, 2001
façades as well as interiors. People appear on vacation, on a Sunday outing, at work, playing sports, and attending concerts and boxing matches. Gursky’s work takes on meaning when you see his prints in person. Almost immediately, you’re either struck by their huge size or their gorgeous scenery, or the bright colours coming towards you with the intensity of strobe lights. Gursky has redefined the term “big picture”. At a time when young Americans are exhibiting prints measuring 30-by-40 inches, he’ll work
with dimensions more typically in the range of 6-by-7 feet. Since some of his works now approach 7-by-16 feet, you’d be right to expect a painting by an American abstract expressionist rather than a print by a photographer based in Dusseldorf. Still, if one foot is planted in the world of painting, the other’s engaged with commercial announcements—the sort familiar from, say, Underground advertisements. It’s odd to find placards with his May Day IV advertising the show at MoMA on the sides of city buses. Then there’s the seductive appeal of many of Gursky’s landscapes, especially the snow scenes. Mountain tops reach the clouds; people are the size of ants. These are places where nature rules, not human beings. Some Americans, I am sure, have a tender spot for the view of the Maid of the Mist tourist boat just below Niagara Falls because this lovely print calls to mind countless honeymoons and family trips. But Gursky avoids sentimentality. He’s a romantic whose forceful, robust prints are more
1297
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
DISSECTING ROOM
discredited its deeper aspects. Gursky restores conceptualism to the realm of philosophy. He’s been quoted as saying that he doesn’t take too many pictures a year because it takes him months and months to think out how he’s going to treat a subject. In the galleries at MoMA, everyone seems to be asking, “Where did he put the camera?” Gursky seems to prefer an omniscient point of view. There’s something about his scenes with tiny human participants that evokes the equally miniscule warriors and never ending vista of Albrecht Altdorfer’s panel The Battle of Issus, painted in 1529 in Munich. Or consider this. Take a look at Gursky’s striking interpretation of Jackson Pollock’s One: Number 31, 1950 from the MoMA collection. Gursky calls his own view of this painting and the wall on which it hangs, Untitled VI of 1997. Pollock’s painting relates to the support on which it hangs in the same way that Gursky’s print sits on photography paper surrounded by a broad white border. The dimensions of Gursky’s print are similar to those of Pollock’s largest paintings, and this means the print exists as a “photograph” rather
From the medical museum Heatley’s vessel
but little equipment, and In the summer of 1940, it was wartime. Bedpans while the Battle of and bottles of every Britain was being fought description had been in the skies, the firm of pressed into service, James Macintyre of stacked on shelves in Burslem in the Potteries unoccupied rooms, but was approached with an the biscuit tins found unusual request. Could a shallow recmost useful “couldn’t be got” unless tangular vessel, 2 pint (about 1 litre) empties were returned in exchange. capacity, glazed inside, and obliquely By May 25 that year, enough spouted be fabricated swiftly? The “mould juice” had been extracted from company specialised in electrical these motley receptacles for the first porcelain and laboratory ceramics, so trial. Eight mice had received the job presented no difficulty to the a lethal dose of streptococci. Four firm’s skilled potters, who promptly untreated mice were dead by next began work on prototypes. morning, but four given penicillin surThe young biochemist sent to inspect their work found one of these prototypes “almost perfect”. Norman Heatley had been recruited by Ernst Chain to the team investigating penicillin under Howard Florey at the Dunn School of Pathology in Oxford. Heatley finalised the design with the Burslem potters: “out came the pocket knife”, he recollected recently. Heatley had been trying to manufacture “mould juice” from penicillin in conditions that would try a saint. The Dunn laboratory had an impressive new building, Ceramic culture vessel
1298
than just a picture or reproduction of an artwork. Or ponder the diptych finished earlier this year of the boards of directors of several megacompanies. Gursky floated his individual portraits of each group seated at a table in front of a backdrop of Alp-like mountains. Across the blue skies of both pictures, he included the names of each firm. Has anyone ever more cogently addressed today’s Valhalla? These seated men and women rule international economies. Gursky reminds us that the names of the companies they run are much better known than they are; and he has used logos as if he were composing concrete poetry. In the backgrounds, there’s a reminder that Mother Nature, not the urban elite, always has the last say. This philosophical subtext to the photographs at MoMA is yet one more aspect that sets Gursky apart from his colleagues.With a brilliant text in the catalogue written by curator Peter Galassai, this is an instance where a show is as ambitious as the art it is celebrating. Phyllis Tuchman 340 East 80th Street, New York 10021, USA
vived. A stackable purpose designed vessel would allow better use of space and increased output: both urgent now that the stuff had been shown to work. Glass had been the material of choice, but very costly. Moreover, Pyrex couldn’t promise any vessels to a new design for 6 months. Macintyre appeared to Heatley an “old fashioned-seeming company”, but highly efficient. Manufacture was slow—the vessels were fired in a tunnel kiln, which took 18 days, but their cost was reasonable—only 7 shillings and sixpence (35 pence) each. The Burslem prototypes were tested successfully during the autumn, and Florey swiftly dispatched orders for 400. Heatley made two journeys to collect them: the firm’s expert packers nestled them carefully in straw in the back of his borrowed van. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 1940 were spent preparing them for production, and seeding them with spores. By February 1941 the new culture vessels had yielded enough penicillin for the first human trials.
The Royal Pharmaceutical Society
on a par with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. And he’s clearly not a one-noter. A number of photographs beg comparison with the minimalism of Donald Judd and Carl Andre as well as the reductive abstractions of Kenneth Noland. Often one thing follows another. Broad stripe-like patterns appear, too. It’s impossible to say enough about how Gursky uses colour. Was it Cézanne or Barnett Newman who said more green is greener than less green? Obviously, this photographer subscribes to this notion. Bring sunglasses. Commentators might rightly compare Gursky’s prints to Caspar David Friedrich’s canvases, but every country has a painter of this nature. In the USA, we have Frederic Church and his views of the Andes and Niagara Falls. Today, photoshop and digital techniques have expanded the vocabulary of photographers. Though he might seem absorbed by traditional subjects, Gursky’s in the forefront when it comes to applying technological advances to his craft. The core character of Gursky’s work is often played down, too. Perhaps conceptual art is overly associated with process, and minimalism has
Ruth Richardson. I thank Caroline Reed and Lorraine Jones of the Royal Pharmaceutical Society Museum, London, Sue Taylor of the Potteries Museum, Stoke-on-Trent, and Benjamin Chain of University College, London.
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • April 21, 2001
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
Time Square (1997)
In books, catalogues, and magazines, where Gursky’s prints are reproduced in inches rather than yards, his photographs look traditional. For example, you’ll spot majestic winter scenes. He’s taken views of modern architecture,
2001 Andreas Gursky
T
photographers. Gursky, however, has become a crossover artist. In a world where installations are confused with the values of sculpture, and photography has taken over wall space previously reserved for paintings, this ambitious German has entered the Pantheon consecrated to “Art”.
2001 Andreas Gursky
he Museum of Modern Art’s midcareer survey of photographs taken between 1984 and 2001 by Andreas Gursky, a 46-year-old Rheinlander, was eagerly anticipated. The hype began last September when critics, curators, and other photographers told the New York Times how much they were looking forward to seeing this show. Simultaneously, the prices for Gursky’s gargantuan-sized prints entered the stratosphere last autumn at auctions in New York, and they pulled even higher prices at winter sales in London. Although the MoMA retrospective was 2 months away, major articles about the artist and his work began to appear in January. Artforum published two cover stories and profiles ran in the New Yorker and Harper’s Bazaar. At one time or another, somewhat similar attention has been lavished on Cindy Sherman, Robert Mapplethorpe, Diane Arbus, and perhaps one or two other photographers. But it was their subject matter—AIDS, suicide, or some such topic—that put them in the spotlight. Moreover, these gifted individuals never lost their primary identity as
Paris, Montparnasse (1993)
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • April 21, 2001
façades as well as interiors. People appear on vacation, on a Sunday outing, at work, playing sports, and attending concerts and boxing matches. Gursky’s work takes on meaning when you see his prints in person. Almost immediately, you’re either struck by their huge size or their gorgeous scenery, or the bright colours coming towards you with the intensity of strobe lights. Gursky has redefined the term “big picture”. At a time when young Americans are exhibiting prints measuring 30-by-40 inches, he’ll work
with dimensions more typically in the range of 6-by-7 feet. Since some of his works now approach 7-by-16 feet, you’d be right to expect a painting by an American abstract expressionist rather than a print by a photographer based in Dusseldorf. Still, if one foot is planted in the world of painting, the other’s engaged with commercial announcements—the sort familiar from, say, Underground advertisements. It’s odd to find placards with his May Day IV advertising the show at MoMA on the sides of city buses. Then there’s the seductive appeal of many of Gursky’s landscapes, especially the snow scenes. Mountain tops reach the clouds; people are the size of ants. These are places where nature rules, not human beings. Some Americans, I am sure, have a tender spot for the view of the Maid of the Mist tourist boat just below Niagara Falls because this lovely print calls to mind countless honeymoons and family trips. But Gursky avoids sentimentality. He’s a romantic whose forceful, robust prints are more
1297
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
DISSECTING ROOM
discredited its deeper aspects. Gursky restores conceptualism to the realm of philosophy. He’s been quoted as saying that he doesn’t take too many pictures a year because it takes him months and months to think out how he’s going to treat a subject. In the galleries at MoMA, everyone seems to be asking, “Where did he put the camera?” Gursky seems to prefer an omniscient point of view. There’s something about his scenes with tiny human participants that evokes the equally miniscule warriors and never ending vista of Albrecht Altdorfer’s panel The Battle of Issus, painted in 1529 in Munich. Or consider this. Take a look at Gursky’s striking interpretation of Jackson Pollock’s One: Number 31, 1950 from the MoMA collection. Gursky calls his own view of this painting and the wall on which it hangs, Untitled VI of 1997. Pollock’s painting relates to the support on which it hangs in the same way that Gursky’s print sits on photography paper surrounded by a broad white border. The dimensions of Gursky’s print are similar to those of Pollock’s largest paintings, and this means the print exists as a “photograph” rather
From the medical museum Heatley’s vessel
but little equipment, and In the summer of 1940, it was wartime. Bedpans while the Battle of and bottles of every Britain was being fought description had been in the skies, the firm of pressed into service, James Macintyre of stacked on shelves in Burslem in the Potteries unoccupied rooms, but was approached with an the biscuit tins found unusual request. Could a shallow recmost useful “couldn’t be got” unless tangular vessel, 2 pint (about 1 litre) empties were returned in exchange. capacity, glazed inside, and obliquely By May 25 that year, enough spouted be fabricated swiftly? The “mould juice” had been extracted from company specialised in electrical these motley receptacles for the first porcelain and laboratory ceramics, so trial. Eight mice had received the job presented no difficulty to the a lethal dose of streptococci. Four firm’s skilled potters, who promptly untreated mice were dead by next began work on prototypes. morning, but four given penicillin surThe young biochemist sent to inspect their work found one of these prototypes “almost perfect”. Norman Heatley had been recruited by Ernst Chain to the team investigating penicillin under Howard Florey at the Dunn School of Pathology in Oxford. Heatley finalised the design with the Burslem potters: “out came the pocket knife”, he recollected recently. Heatley had been trying to manufacture “mould juice” from penicillin in conditions that would try a saint. The Dunn laboratory had an impressive new building, Ceramic culture vessel
1298
than just a picture or reproduction of an artwork. Or ponder the diptych finished earlier this year of the boards of directors of several megacompanies. Gursky floated his individual portraits of each group seated at a table in front of a backdrop of Alp-like mountains. Across the blue skies of both pictures, he included the names of each firm. Has anyone ever more cogently addressed today’s Valhalla? These seated men and women rule international economies. Gursky reminds us that the names of the companies they run are much better known than they are; and he has used logos as if he were composing concrete poetry. In the backgrounds, there’s a reminder that Mother Nature, not the urban elite, always has the last say. This philosophical subtext to the photographs at MoMA is yet one more aspect that sets Gursky apart from his colleagues.With a brilliant text in the catalogue written by curator Peter Galassai, this is an instance where a show is as ambitious as the art it is celebrating. Phyllis Tuchman 340 East 80th Street, New York 10021, USA
vived. A stackable purpose designed vessel would allow better use of space and increased output: both urgent now that the stuff had been shown to work. Glass had been the material of choice, but very costly. Moreover, Pyrex couldn’t promise any vessels to a new design for 6 months. Macintyre appeared to Heatley an “old fashioned-seeming company”, but highly efficient. Manufacture was slow—the vessels were fired in a tunnel kiln, which took 18 days, but their cost was reasonable—only 7 shillings and sixpence (35 pence) each. The Burslem prototypes were tested successfully during the autumn, and Florey swiftly dispatched orders for 400. Heatley made two journeys to collect them: the firm’s expert packers nestled them carefully in straw in the back of his borrowed van. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 1940 were spent preparing them for production, and seeding them with spores. By February 1941 the new culture vessels had yielded enough penicillin for the first human trials.
The Royal Pharmaceutical Society
on a par with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. And he’s clearly not a one-noter. A number of photographs beg comparison with the minimalism of Donald Judd and Carl Andre as well as the reductive abstractions of Kenneth Noland. Often one thing follows another. Broad stripe-like patterns appear, too. It’s impossible to say enough about how Gursky uses colour. Was it Cézanne or Barnett Newman who said more green is greener than less green? Obviously, this photographer subscribes to this notion. Bring sunglasses. Commentators might rightly compare Gursky’s prints to Caspar David Friedrich’s canvases, but every country has a painter of this nature. In the USA, we have Frederic Church and his views of the Andes and Niagara Falls. Today, photoshop and digital techniques have expanded the vocabulary of photographers. Though he might seem absorbed by traditional subjects, Gursky’s in the forefront when it comes to applying technological advances to his craft. The core character of Gursky’s work is often played down, too. Perhaps conceptual art is overly associated with process, and minimalism has
Ruth Richardson. I thank Caroline Reed and Lorraine Jones of the Royal Pharmaceutical Society Museum, London, Sue Taylor of the Potteries Museum, Stoke-on-Trent, and Benjamin Chain of University College, London.
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • April 21, 2001
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.