I wanted to write about how André Kertész visited Toronto in 1979 and how it made me feel to see a photograph of a chimney from MY city, so unexpectedly, in his exhibit, but there was no break before Samarkand, so I’ve already forgotten my words.
It was a short but worthwhile visit. Now I’m having a cappuccino at Restaurant Gropius in Martin-Gropius-Bau. The brochure says:
The photographs of the Swiss artist lead to Central Asia and confront the viewer with its explosive present-day reality.
I guess so. The title Snow in Samarkand has much more romantic undertones. I expected it to be a little bit Orientalist, but in an old school way. I don’t know about the photographs of development and war. There was not nearly as much Uzbekistan (where I remember and believe Samarkand to be) as there was Afghanistan and Kashgar. In the series, “War – As Far As As We Know,” I was naturally drawn to the Qing Dynasty, East Turkestan, and the PRC, but I don’t know what it weighs out to, proportionally.
I don’t like foam or coffee that requires sugar but I love the sound of sugar dissolving on collapsing milk foam. Reading the quotes by and introductions to Kertész, I felt like I could relate… though not necessarily through photography. If ever I were an artist I think could only/best express myself in writing. I like to write what I feel (on the off chance that I have feelings, haha). When I saw all his chimneys, even before they were properly introduced, I wonder if they did for him what scaffolding does for me. He’s famous and important but I’d never heard his name.
It’s very possible I’ve seen his swimmer or dancer before, but the chimneys made me feel like I could relate. Maybe it’s silly but it makes me feel art-ful… or confirms my strong feelings for scaffolding. I think the romance started upon/as early as a rereading of the Golden Compass. Roger comes from a family of scaffolders. But I think it really started when they were working on Bon Pasteur in the summer ’08.
