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andrew wright

skies | april 01 - may 01, 2004

 

Andrew Wright and John Heward at Peak Gallery
Globe and Mail | Saturday, April 24, 2004 | Page R4
By GARY MICHAEL DAULT

Like the work of Robert Fones, these new photographs by Andrew Wright (Skies) are more fun if you know what's going on. While these big pearlescent, panoramic, black and white photos of bright skies and silken clouds are undeniably lovely, they become a whole lot lovelier still once you realize (or are told) that they are the product of Wright's investigations into the possibilities of the Camera Obscura.

Anyone who has seen the recent film of Tracy Chevalier's novel about Vermeer (The Girl with the Pearl Earring) will remember the artist's explanation of the helpful wonders of the Camera Obscura, a black box into which light is admitted through a tiny hole in one side and which light rays then come to organize themselves on the box's far surface into a jewel-like, inverted image of whatever the box's hole was pointed at. In Wright's case, the Camera Obscura is his entire studio, the necessary light-admitting hole being a shuttered opening in the roof, fitted with "a single lens element (borrowed from a pair of eyeglasses)". Wright unrolls sheets of photographic paper on a four-by-eight-foot platform on the studio floor, exposes the paper for a few seconds, and develops his resulting print: another passage of light and cloud. Nice. Would these spacious photos be quite so absorbing if they were just taken with a conventional camera? Not at all. Except that Wright makes a good case for them when he points out that his images are "counterphotographic", their subject being "emptiness, water vapour, and light itself", that they are without orientation (that is, there is no up nor down to them), and that they omit anything approaching the virtuoso "decisive moment" of meaningful exposure. These photos just are. As such, they are more meditative than informative.

The eight etchings (Four Directions) making up this new exhibition by Montreal-based painter, sculptor and musician John Heward, are so deftly contrived, so elegantly wrought, so formally inadvertent (or so it would seem), they are so much a process of finding out direction by means of a studied indirection, that it might be best to talk of them scarcely at all.
It might be best, if they just continue to hang there on the gallery wall, breathing deeply, forming tiny theatres of quiet, centrifugal excursions into mark-making, resonating, as Montreal critic James D. Campbell puts it in a note accompanying the exhibition, between "Reason and Emptiness, what is seen and what is sensed."

The Wright photographs are $2,400 each. The Heward etchings are $250-$800. Until May 1, 23 Morrow Ave., Toronto; 416-537-8108.

 

about the exhibition

Andrew Wright's photos challenge the power of modern technologies. NO-TRICKS PHOTOGRAPHY
NOW | April 8, 2004 | VOL. 23 NO. 32
by Kevin Temple

Andrew Wright at Peak Gallery (23 Morrow), to May 1. 416-537-8108. Rating: NNN
Photogrpaher Andrew Wright has turned his studio into a gigantic pinhole camera, and by doing so sheds light on the entire photographic process. He's placed an ordinary eyeglass lens in his skylight and aimed the picture directly onto 1.2-by-2.4-metre sheets of photographic paper. The stunning negative images, developed by hand, are a beautiful mix of mist, sky and light.
His crude method, which began with him waiting outside his studio and dashing in whenever a good frame appears, purposely creates imperfections in the works. The poor-quality lens is soft, and a number of the prints have acquired strange horizontal lines, but the scars resulting from the DIY approach only add to the appeal.

Wright's show is a meditation on modern photographic technology that's able to remove all traces of the process from the picture. Now automated cameras can eliminate the photographer entirely. By controlling his own process – in effect, avoiding its mechanization – Wright draws attention to the act of mediated representation.

He's not the first to shoot clouds or build cameras, but the combination of these two activities in the context of the artist's preoccupations makes this a smart show.

If Wright's critique of technological consumption doesn't do it for you, you can always check out his cloud formations for ducks and bunnies. Andrew Wright's low-fi technique makes a big statement

 
about the exhibition