From the 1970s onward, the dominant view in American photography was that a good photograph should be a representation of the world. Interest in the external world stood above the inner state of the photographer; objectivity above subjectivity. This approach gradually found its way into museums and galleries.
Well-known photographers of that period include Stephen Shore, William Eggleston, and Lee Friedlander. Their photographs present a neutral view of reality, set in everyday landscapes, interiors, and urban scenes.
There is a story about Friedlander during a presentation of The American Monument. A student asked him: “What were you feeling when you took this picture?” He replied: “As I recall, I was hungry.”
But photography can also take a different turn; not merely showing the world, but adding meaning to it.
To Raise the Water Level in a Fish Pond (1997) is a work created by the Chinese conceptual and performance artist and photographer Zhang Huan. This work is not simply a depiction of the world; it carries a clear message. He invited a large group of people to stand in a lake in order to raise the water level. The participants had all lost their jobs as a result of China’s industrial policy. The work reflects the powerlessness of the individual in relation to political authority, while at the same time pointing to the strength of the collective.
My work Bleeding Red also speaks about the powerlessness of the individual and about escapism.
Several years ago, I attended a business webinar entitled “Thinking About the World Around Us and Our Role in It.” The keynote speaker was a former CEO of a large Dutch organisation, described as a purpose-led leader in health and nutrition. He was introduced through a corporate film in which an anecdote formed the prelude to the company’s positioning. The story was as follows. The CEO travelled to a village in Africa affected by severe famine. He was welcomed by the community and, unexpectedly, a baby was placed in his arms. The child’s mother whispered to him: “You know.” His first reaction was: You know? I don’t know anything.
Her message was: “You know my child has no chance of survival. I know it, you know it and the whole world knows it too.”
For the CEO, this moment and the insight that followed led to new product lines and the opening of new markets. A strategy framed as doing good, doing well. That was the message presented that morning. But I heard something different.
You know. The whole world knows. And nothing is done.
My work Bleeding Red consists of a blanket and a photographic series. The work embodies that sentence you know. The blanket is warm and protective; you can disappear beneath it. Away from everything. It is made up of 28 woven pieces, each photographed separately. They are made from different types of wool, and from a blend of wool and silk, dyed with madder, a natural dye. When the blanket becomes damp, it releases red pigment. This process is known as bleeding red.