In an essay regarding the color photography of William Eggleston, John Szarkowski concludes that the artist’s subject is “appearing not at all as it might in a social document, but as it might in a diary, where the important meanings would be not public and general but private and esoteric.”
Writing in 1976, Szarkowski traces the evolution of color photography from its distinction as a problem to be solved by the artist into a codified mode of perception. Today, the frontier of perception is confounded by media saturation; the latest development of our technocratic civilization being the empowerment of the individual to broadcast their own experiences with ever-smaller equipment and infinitely larger audiences.
The “I could have done that” cadaver that has plagued the avant-garde for over a century is once again resurrected. If everyone is snapping pictures on their cell phones, which broadcasts deserve our attention?
Isaac Turner’s color photography show is at Fort Nest, a new gallery on India Street co-founded by Carrie Bostick Hoge, Catherine Satchell, and Wendy Davenport. Color Polaroid and low-resolution pictures are casually presented in the cozy front-room space. You can’t shake the idea that you’re being presented not with a series of images, but with some sort of lifestyle choice in the way modern media conglomerates offer not only the network, but also the fast-paced empowerment of connection. This is the stuff of ridiculous slogans boiling down to essentially, “Experience the Experience of Experiencing” or the like.
Turner’s 16” x 16” images “Chelsea” and “Pool” are not only compositionally beautiful, they sell the experience of their inception. “Chelsea” features a cargo truck gliding down the street. Its driver is reduced to a faceless silhouette, leaving nothing natural to dwell in the perfectly placed piles of windows, rooftops, and satellite dishes. The perspective seems to be that of a child, looking up at the monoliths of his environment. It is Turner’s carefully editing eye that lets the picture succeed in delivering its message of exploration. Polaroid film brings out ghostly, muted colors that push every retro button the viewer might be hiding. Even the frame is of a dark wood once reserved for cutting-edge TVs and stereo components.
A video loop consisting of low-resolution files from a cell phone camera silently plays on a small wood-paneled TV with rabbit ears extended. What unfolds on screen is not necessarily sequentially important, but more a series of short, moving Polaroids leaving you to wonder what adventure was happening outside the frame. The video lacks the formality of Turner’s larger, printed works, but opens new possibilities for the artist that will hopefully be explored further in the future.
Less intriguing, but more consumable, are the hapless piles of small prints strewn about the gallery space. Some feature abstracted glowing color fields, some are portraits, and all are inexpensive and available. Your choice. This is the final element of the sales pitch. Can’t afford the band T-shirt at the show? Here, take a pin for a dollar. That way you can still incorporate the aesthetic within your own.
