16th November 2010
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| Robert Frank - the master poet. |
Perving toward the powerbase of contemporary street photography - you know, stuff being published or presented out of London ... it would appear that of late the genre has become just a wee bit flippant.
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| David Solomons (iN-PUBLiC) |
Whilst there is no denying the output is slick, I must admit to discerning a profusion of cinematically pretty and kind of smart ass clever pic's that spill out and beyond the mid wicket boundary rope like an old school cow corner slogger in search of the mid afternoon declaration. Street photography today has lost much of it's unique rawness; that down and dirty gut instinct. Where for example is Frank's "sad poem" on the
iN-PUBLiC site - it's all,
knock knock, who's there - OMG it's a shard of light and an amusing juxta. Entertaining, Oh
Hale and Pace yeah ... and just as Tony Ray-Jones was inspired by
Charlie Chaplin then perhaps the London School of Now could count the odd
Carry On film as important in their Union Jacked, knotted hanky up top evolution ... hell, I don't ever resile from the influence that
Picnic At Hanging Rock had on my own street musing (
Norman Gunston - now there was an actor !).
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| Carry On Street Photography |
Nick Turpin, the Simon Cowell of modern street photography, has previously stressed the importance of
editing, and it is true that with the advent of the digital age the internet is overflowing with rapid fire JPEG accumulation - shipping containers before lunch time full of witty and fine definition grabs have in many instances replaced a more soulful, perhaps even measured personal vision. Photography has always been a concertinaed editing process; never more so than now. Cartier-Bresson's decisive moment it would seem has travelled from the cobblestoned laneway to the late night laptop as meaty street photography decision making shifts toward cosy sit down accoutrement's like cocoa, fluffy slippers and a purring moggy brushing yer lower limbs in hope of tuna flakes, salmon jelly and room temperature moo juice.
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A modern day dark poet - amazingly Gary Stochl didn't feature in
Street Photography Now's top 49 |
Contemporary street photography is slick, and in many instances extracts a wry guffaw or even the occasional -
"holly molly willya have a look at that" (
thanks Trent) yet beneath this rich and colourful frosting I'm struggling to grasp a soulful core? I mean what's the sub text ? Or does it maybe not need an undercurrent ? Is it all perhaps so clever that the
Nowhere Man has played and missed - it's frivolity serving as the perfect metaphor for this present day society of ours... what with our damned pre frab flat packed generic burbs blending from coast to coast, filled by droningly impatient tabloid ingestors, surface swooshers who live spiritually hidden, face down in electronic gizmodum, thumbs flailing, all so craving the next side serving of cheap buzz - that we queue expectantly, nostrils flaring to the
http://www.delusion/ that Derulo doing Dylan is somehow culturally profound. ???
... maybe not
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