I think I need to go back to MoMA and give the Jeff Wall show another chance.
March 23rd, 2007Jeff Wall is one of those artists that smart people seem to really like. Nearly every smart person I know seems to think of Wall as a seminal figure.
A couple of weeks ago I took a quick lap around his retrospective at MoMA. Maybe a bit too quick because I still don’t see why everyone goes so apeshit over Jeff Wall. I need to think about him a bit more.
When you think of Jeff Wall you think of light boxes—big transparent photographs lit from behind with florescent bulbs and mounted to the wall. Light boxes are just intrinsically great—any large photo lit from behind is going to look fantastic. I don’t care what it is—a Tylenol ad at the airport—if it’s in a light box, I’m sold. So we can all agree that light boxes are good—that’s one thing that Jeff Wall has going for him.
You also think about the fact that his photos are carefully posed. Even though they look like he just went into the street and happened to be at the right moment to capture something interesting, that’s not what happened—he spent days (days!) rounding up people to pose for him in very specific locations. So if you weren’t familiar with Wall’s work you’d say to yourself, “Whoa, look at that redneck making that ‘slanty-eyed’ gesture to that Asian dude.”

But you’d be wrong because these were “actors” of a sort.
That the photos are “fakes,” meant to look real, is interesting to some people. There was a critical armature that developed around photography in the 60’s and 70’s that attempted to understand the medium by determining its unique and intrinsic properties. One of the intrinsic properties of Photography was thought to be its “truthfulness”—a photograph was a record of light hitting film; it was impartial in that way; it didn’t have the messy subjectivity that painting had. So when you looked at a Henri Cartier Bresson photo, you thought to yourself, “Oh, how delightful that he was there to capture that moment. Isn’t life magical?” By posing everything to look real, Jeff Wall undercuts this assumption of photography’s truthfulness and that makes people feel kind of exhilarated, as if one of life’s big barriers had finally been torn down. “Thank God we can no longer trust the accuracy of the photo,” they say. (they don’t really…)
But perhaps Wall is less a photographic provocateur than a throwback to a 19th century mode of photography that took painting as its model. He seems to like to fill his work with art historical references.

There’s this one that borrows from a 19th century woodblock print from Katsushika Hokusai.

The little figures on the left of this one are posed like the ones in Manet’s “Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe” or maybe like that Giorgione painting whose name I don’t remember. In any event, his pictures look vaguely art historical. People seem to like this about him too.
They also like his politics. Wall has concern for the underclass and really we all should. Even though to you and me, rounding up a bunch of itinerant laborers and making them pose for several days for a big expensive photo seems like the height of bourgeois decadence, for some people this makes Wall a friend of the common man. Kind of like Courbet—an artist that Wall also quotes.
So I’m obviously missing Wall’s greatness and importance. But I’m going to go back to MoMA and see the show again.
I know I don’t write a lot on my blog anymore so I’ll try to be better about that too.







