Robert A. Baron
www.studiolo.org 

Preface

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The title of this exhibit, "Against the Grain," is intended to imply that its imagery does not necessarily follow the norm expected of exhibition photography. The seasoned photographer will find elements within these pictures that are commonly defined as faults. Some of these have been introduced on purpose, others might best be understood as prospective opportunities. Further discussion of this topic may be found among the descriptions below. I hope all viewers will enjoy the process of looking and thinking.

The works on exhibit consist of narrative sequences and multi-image compositional configurations, rather than the distinct, sometimes unrelated images one frequently finds in exhibition photography. Among other objectives, the goal is to investigate the relationships between the whole and its parts. The following descriptions are intended to guide the observer through the process and to explain some of the aesthetic anomalies and formulations with which I have crafted the images on display.

The works on view are presented, as noted, not as individual images, per se, but as belonging to one of the five "clusters" of imagery described below. That said, we hope that their value as unique works is also apparent.

I. Marin County Civic Center, Frank Lloyd Wright, architect
II. Griffith Observatory, Los Angeles
III. Of Gardens and Museums
     1) Prolog
     2) Yerba Buena Gardens
     3) San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Mario Botta, architect
IV. San Francisco Conservatory
V: Garden Sculpture at the Huntington Museum and Gardens

The works currently on exhibit at the Mamaroneck Artists’ Guild Gallery embody a variety of architectural points of view. The most notable presentation certainly is Frank Lloyd Wright’s Marin County Civic Center in San Rafael, California (right). Gliding across the rolling hills, from a distance, the Civic Center (the only governmental structure of Wright's that was ever brought to completion) reminds one of an aqueduct cast in the Roman manner^1-- sustained by magnificent arches that, as they are needed, are called upon to span the full length of the building. From other perspectives it projects a palatial aspect, with one of its domes serving as the focal center at which the axes of its branches converge (right). Near that, one discovers a pool and a spire (left). The spire reaches high and slim as it stands out as the tallest (or, apparently, the highest) structure in the area. The spire is reminiscent of Wright’s never-constructed mile-high skyscraper (lower right), which, in the architect’s mind, was destined for Chicago or New York’s Central Park.<sup>3

1</sup>Pont du Gard, Nimes. From Google Pictures (left).
² Unattributed photo of Marin Civic Center, from Google Pictures (right)
³ Frank Lloyd Wright, Mile-high skyscraper, drawing.  Source

Here, Wright’s decorative modality is Art Deco, perhaps a bit overwrought for a 1950s structure; but its repetitive quasi-organic forms and its network of interacting circular undulations and spherical repetitions well serve the two-dimensional minimalism that dominates the remainder of the building (lower left). Curiously, the pool and spire have an uncanny resemblance to that famous hallmark of the 1939 World’s Fair -- the Trylon and Perisphere as seen here depicted on a 1939 U.S. Postage stamp.⁴ Is Wright exploiting forms reminiscent of real and imagined architectural monuments of the past? Is this building 1950s retro? Wright died before the building was complete. Was he erecting a monument to his unfulfilled ambitions?

⁴ US Postage Stamp, #US-8531

The interior of the Civic Center may be understood as a metaphor of a metropolitan setting. Sidewalks on left and right, and multiple floors seen through elongated "doughnut" holes cut out on each level inform visitors (I want to say "pedestrians.") that they are in a protected and structured atmosphere. In this regard the Civic Center belongs to the same family as Wright’s New York Guggenheim Museum.

For the photographer, the long lines of sight impel catching this building as a succession of symmetrical compositions. Even diagonal views here can be as imposing and commanding as symmetrical ones; the latter always seem to bring to mind the innate power of bilateral equilibrium and the compelling rhythmic attractions of Wright’s decorative motifs (above left). On the exterior, symmetry is abandoned and the spaces and forms become relaxed and playful.

For the photographer, the contrasts between bright light streaming through the open canopy of transparent sheeting and the dimmer lights extending from regularly paced electric lighting, call for advanced exposure techniques. In this set the camera was set up to expose what is called High Dynamic Range (HDR) ⁵ images, and, though those settings the photographer selected occasionally left something to be desired, the HDR protocol was successful, and caught detail in heavy shadow as well as from brightly lit walls.

⁵ HDR is a technique by which the photographer takes a series of images at different exposure values so that some areas that ordinarily would be underexposed are correctly exposed and some that are overexposed, are corrected in their own way. An algorithm in the software attempts to use only the correctly exposed fragments.

Resources:
Wright and Marin County Civic Center - Photo Album Marin County Free Library
Discusses the building history of the Marin Civic Center.

While the photographs of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Marin Civic Center entice viewers to reconstruct Wright’s building in their minds, those of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles require a more intricate route by which the structure as a whole becomes apparent. For context I supply a panoramic view of the entry side of this famous Art Deco building, but the details of ramps, domes and ramparts of this array do not easily coalesce by themselves into a single coordinated structure. (I call them "Body Parts".) Mental reconstruction may not be required. But, to offset this apparent imperfection, the component images on display have been adjusted to fit into a broad compositional scheme that suggests a fictive continuity and a presumed totality. I hope it coaxes viewers to solve the puzzle of imagining the individual pieces as fragments of something whole -- even if that "whole" is wholly fiction. That said, it is not difficult to see that the individual works were created to work independently and possess exciting forms and compositions.

The photographs were taken near high noon -- not ordinarily considered an appropriate time to draw out forms through the slanting shadows that photographers cherish -- but tourists can’t always be choosers. For this reason, in part, HDR (see above) was employed to simulate contrasts between light and dark. Even so, naturalism was not achieved and, to tell the truth, not desired. Rather, the effects serve to spread an unreal presence upon the forms photographed, an effect, that, to this writer, gives an unworldly cast to a building dedicated to the teaching and explaining our extraterrestrial cosmos.

In addition, the heightened contrasts between light and dark serve to focus attention on the modernization of ancient forms frequently associated with Art Deco architecture -- giving the entire building a retrospective tonality. (See C-10, 11 & 12)

Viewers might not know or realize that the famous Art Deco Griffith Observatory in its original form -- but now altered -- for a long time was adapted for the logo for the films of 20^th-Century Fox.

Don’t forget to inspect one of these Griffith Observatory images in MAG’s front window: (C-12 / F-04)

Link to useful Wikipedia article on the Griffith Observatory.

III. Of Gardens and Museums
(Link to Exhibit)

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This section, the last of the three sets of photographs that dominate the front of MAG’s gallery, does not go so far as to suggest that viewers mentally reconstruct a building; instead, it arranges its images as if the photographer was walking through the Yerba Buena Gardens in San Francisco and continues from there into the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, its neighbor. Rather than a building, these images construct a path. (Yerba Buena was the name given to San Francisco when it was part of the Spanish state.) This "path" is not constructed by the designers of the garden, but one envisioned by the photographer in order to lead the viewer through the park and toward the museum.

There are three sections to this tour. Part One contains four images, showing buildings within view or proximate view of the Yerba Buena Gardens. Part Two uses images of works within the Yerba Buena Gardens, and Part Three moves through the gardens up to the interior of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Take a moment to inspect the street map (right) to orient yourself to the Yerba Buena Gardens and to the location of the SFMoMA. If you are reading this because you came to see the exhibit, for the first photo in this series, it would help if you had inspected MAG’s front window to view the photograph of the Jewish Museum of San Francisco (B-01) (left). Designed by Daniel Liebeskind, the cubic extension built for the Jewish Museum (for which he was architect) reflects bright sunlight as it projects a golden glow from its upper surface. This effect was not intended by the architect (my guess). When such anomalies appear in a photographer’s viewfinder, they are often taken as cause to avoid taking the picture since it would abandon realism. But I think here the heightened reflection offers an interesting eye-catching effect, and creates an area of interest out of something not frequently considered aesthetically interesting. Obviously, I'm showing you what I consider to be an exception to a traditional practice. Although it is the brightest part of the image and, at first, glues the viewer’s eye to it, still, it does not impede inspection and appreciation of the picture as a whole.¹

Most interesting is the way the cube is positioned to contrast with its architectural surroundings. It implication is that it stand for uniqueness and opposition -- in some ways emblematic of the Jewish experience. With a stretch of the imagination, the architectural cube may also evoke the image of Tefillin (phylacteries), box-like containers containing biblical verses traditionally worn by religious Jews during prayer.²

¹ A technical note: In order to correct the distortions produced by using a wide-angle lens aiming upwards, the parallel vertical lines of the hotel in the rear had to be manipulated back to normalcy. This process caused the two foreground figures to appear bloated and overweight. In the picture before you they were replaced by "straight" images of the same people that were taken from a pre-adjusted photograph. The down-side of this action is that the cube loses its balanced proportions. Is this a benefit, or not?

² On Tefillin see this LINK, which includes a photograph.

For this group the wall-mounted images begin with three photographs of the impressive Marriott Hotel – situated just outside of the Yerba Buena Gardens. They have been photographed with the Garden in the foreground. The point is to show the hotel in three distinct manifestations.

I’ll start by mentioning the first of these. In image B-02 (left) we can see the full height of the building -- from its apex to the lawn below. Just where it would touch the ground in the other two images of this building the view is blocked. But here, in the foreground, chairs have been set up to provide seating for a musical entertainment. The flock of chairs seems diminutive in relation to the Marriott’s scale and makes the hotel, in contrast, seem all the more monumental. The bright light streaking up its façade gives the hotel increased prominence. In fact, in places this streaking whiteness is the whitest white you can find in photography and was partly introduced while the image was being exposed and prepared. It is meaningful in this way inasmuch as to me it is broadly reminiscent of the strokes of white that El Greco and other painters would use to add expression to their spiritualized or dynamic images. Some photographers deride this phenomenon by calling it "blown out" -- meaning that there is no detail to see -- an uncalled-for pejorative invented by people who demand naturalism at any cost. The heightened appearance of this photograph also owes to the fact that I increased its height just a bit in proportion to its base -- not by much -- but by just enough to lend it a noticeably additional vertical emphasis. In some photographic situations, expression trumps reality. (Compare to photo B-03, the Marriott Hotel with Green Posts, right.)

Photo B-04 (left) shows three buildings against the sky. The leftmost, of course, is the Marriott Hotel I have been discussing. They say that, photographically, things go better when grouped in threes. By themselves, even though these structures contrast with a mighty blue firmament, to me they seem unimpressive and perhaps, on its face, inappropriately a bit dull -- that is, were it not for the tiny head of an onlooker that pokes itself out from the foreshortened seating of Yerba Buena Garden. He would appear to have been gazing at the architectural triad -- a backdrop to the stage that is the park. The theme is one that pits the miniscule against the majuscule. It provides a human context, an implied human drama in the form of an ironic trope that enlivens the image.

III-b. The images in this section are all from Yerba Buena Gardens.
(Link to Exhibit)

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Photograph B-06 (left) presents a detail of a decorative element similar to the wall mass in photograph B-08. Figure B-06, with its undulating face and colorfully glittering surface is unusual. But it also echoes the preceding cityscape image (B-05, right). Its tonality has been fabricated out of the electronic noise that accompanies just about every photograph taken with a digital camera. Sometimes it is apparent, sometimes not. Sometime it is attractive, sometimes not. There seems to be no limit to how increasingly interesting photographs can be cast.

Photo B-07 (right) – essentially a wall buttressing a rise in the landscape -- resembles a quarry where splintered sheets of rock have fallen into a river -- haphazardly. Ordinarily this area sports a huge waterfall – the largest such fountain in California, they say. But on the day of the exposure in question, to give room and space to a musical group, the water was turned off. (See B-08, below.) The falls, and the area behind them are dedicated to Martin Luther King, Jr. It is intended to bring to mind one of Dr. King’s most famous metaphors: "No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream." As we bring our attention to B-08 (left), the rippling of the surface invokes the look of water flowing through bulrushes -- a reference, perhaps, to the infant Moses and the escape from Egypt. (See also B-06, above left.) I would imagine, therefore, that these elements serve to help define the iconography of place through which Martin Luther King is linked to the freedom Moses brought to the escaping Israelites. In his role as a liberator, Dr. King sometimes saw himself as a modern manifestation of Moses.

The walls that define this site employ sculptural means to turn stone into a surrogate of flowing water. But, flowing water is present, too, and the two, real and fictive intermingle, tying present to past and fusing architecture to nature.

Pictures B-07 and B-08 (above) have been modified to accentuate their stony presence. To accomplish this, I have drained most color from these photos, leaving only grey stones and pale leaves -- reminiscent perhaps of dry eucalyptus green – weakly suspended from compromised limbs. The water, too, originally grey-green, has been drained of its coloration. Both photographs are fashioned perspectivally, and, if the viewer so wishes, he might think of these two scenes as merging into the kind of radical single-point perspective seen in the image to their right (B-09).

(In photo B-08 don’t overlook the band practicing in the far right, and, on the left, through the metal gate, you might catch a photographer kneeling for his shot.)

The above-mentioned B-09 (right), is formed of a deep single-point perspective. Its elegant roof of translucent tiles works its way from too close to too far – fusing these parameters of human vision into the confines of a defined rectangle. In real life it provides a semi-shaded environment suitable for consuming an outdoor meal. That said, the photograph’s representation of its design is its most important feature; even so, as such, it has little to say, and carries virtually no meaning or significance outside of itself and its design. Yet, the covered walkway, with its black and white floor tiles, serves this exhibit well as a motif that eases the transition from the content-laden images of the water and etched surfaces of the preceding images (B-07 and B-08), to the three perspectives that follow (B-10 through B-12).

-----..------B-10---B-11---B-12

Taken from three locations, these images bring the observer’s attention to the façade of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMoMA) and to the riveting outline of its marvelous skylight. As they terminate our walk through Yerba Buena Gardens, they prefigure the moment when we enter the museum. Each of these images, in its own manner, concentrates our interest in the skylight-target of the museum and makes it the center of attention. Note the black and white banding that circumnavigates the skylight and the black and white banding that supports the skylight as it nestles into the red hews of the exterior brickwork (right).

This is a clue; the banding (and I’m told the brickwork too) reflects the style of the Cathedral of Siena (right), which, for the architect, Mario Botta has frequently served as an inspiration.

As the photographs bring the museum ever closer, and (assuming that we have now placed our fictive selves securely within the pictures), as we approach the museum, the skylight assumes an increasingly dominant presence that will only be surpassed by the awe-inspiring view of the interior.

Each of the remaining images from this set is an interior shot. As a respite, the first three images of the museum in this grouping focus on spatially determined compositional issues (B-13, 14 and 16). (Photograph number 15 is currently in the bin area as number 16.) There is a secret in these three images that the interested student might wish to pursue. Everyone is welcome to investigate. You may send the results of your investigations to me at this address: robert@studiolo.org. There are no prizes available except self-congratulation.

All the other images in this set focus on the skylight -- showing it in various aspects and natural lighting situations. The two introductory images (B-17 and 18) on the right, are contextual in function. They provide views of the entry hall and on the relation of the skylight to the museum space. They are not placed here for their aesthetic worth. But they are interesting. These views show that the museum foyer is designed vertically, it lifts the observer from the ground, past stages and balconies (the staircase extensions), into a bright culmination created by the skylight.  It seems as if we are looking at a vertical cathedral in which the process of ascending terminates in a [heavenly] light. Its formula, certainly derived from medieval and renaissance thoughts of ascension to the godhead -- sometimes expressed as ladder to heaven -- invokes elements of Platonic thought. Its Old Testament precedent may be found in the story of Jacob's ladder (Genesis: 28: 11-19).

For this exhibit, one of the skylight images has been enlarged and may be viewed as such on the South Wall of the MAG gallery (B-22a / G-03). The others (B-19 through B-24) need no further explanation, except to note that to me the bright light suggests the kind of transcendence discussed above, hence, one that to some viewers might appear spiritual as much as to others it manifests as primarily aesthetically inspirational. Its immediate source, here, certainly derives from the radiant dome decoration of the Siena Cathedral (right). Of course it owes to many other sources as well.

There are two additional sets of images that must be cited. Both are found in the rear of the gallery. On the left rear are images of the Golden Gate Park Conservatory (Group IV.) and to the right are a few images from a series of garden sculpture that flanks the large lawn at the Huntington Library and Gardens in San Marino, California (Group V.)

On the back wall hang the three enlarged images that have been cited from time to time in the preceding texts. For additional information, consult Part G of the document that lists those works on exhibit.

The artistic challenge in photographing the Conservatory lies in the fact that the building is completely white. Whitewashed glass panes are typical of botanical conservatories, but they place the photographer in a position that makes it difficult to manage the light falling on an area when the dynamic range (the accumulation and variation of tones) is so concentrated at one end or the other of the spectrum.

So the task facing the architectural photographer is to control light and shadow in such a manner that the building contrasts with the light in other parts of the photograph – in particular, with the sky. On the day these images were created the sky was overcast and uniform. As a result, the light in the photograph had to be manipulated so that it falls within a range that helps define the built structure.

Because of the overall uniformity of the exterior design, to spark interest, the photographer must rely on the contrast inherent to the overtly decorative flourishes, as in the glass lantern at a crossing (D-04) or the entry façade. One of the photos of the entry has been produced in a sepia monotone, better to evoke the Victorian origin of the design (D-07), right.

One picture of this group was taken inside the conservatory (D-08 / F-03, left). Although it is centered on a lily flower, its primary goal was to show a reflection of the glass panes of the roof. How lucky it was to find a lily at dead center. (This image is to be found in the MAG front window.)

The short visitor's text provided by the Huntington Library and Gardens, describes these works as "characters from classical mythology and folklore," including "mythical beasts, warriors, cupids and gods" in situations where love is a frequent theme. A liberal interpretation might suggest that these sculptures comprise a set of Ovidian or quasi-Ovidian topics. The museum's brochure does not identify the subjects depicted; although, I suspect, that they may be identified in the garden, itself. Without the text it is tempting to take a guess as to their meaning and significance. Without research I have made the following presumptions:

1. & 2.  Saturn (Chronos) Represents the passing of time and subsequent rejuvenation through its cycle. (Father Time, in modern parlance). (Upper left)

3. Humility (?) Based on gesture of right hand and glance to the right. (Upper center)

4. A fleeing figure; perhaps a dancer or Daphne escaping the raptures of Apollo. (Upper right).

5. Mercury (or Hermes), attribution based on similarity to a type. (Lower left)

6. Female [?] wearing emblem of the sun. Helios is the figure signifying the sun. The only quick reference I can find for a breast emblem of the sun is one noting that St. Thomas Aquinas wore such an emblem as a sign that he taught doctrine. But this doesn't make much sense in the current context. (Lower center)

7. Male with intense gesture and mustache; seems to be reaching for a sword. Carries a martial air; I'll call him "Mars." (Lower right)

For as long as I can remember, this garden sculpture was ridiculed as inferior, poorly conserved and grotesquely conceived. It may be found in what is called the "North Vista" at the Huntington and dates from the 17^th and 18^th centuries. I first encountered this group in the early 1970s and left unimpressed,  For my current trip, my intention was to photograph these works with their cracks and breakages in order to emphasize and perhaps exaggerate the historical disregard and the scope of the time-induced mottling suffered by the outer surfaces of the limestone. I was stunned to see the results. The artificial emphasis upon cracking and the dark veins that streak through the limestone faults, at first disturbing, upon contemplation, revealed that, among some viewers, the cuts and cracks induced a deeply felt empathy -- not just a sympathy for the sculpture as objects, but also for their representations -- as if they possessed an essence of life -- flawed, yet honorable. While the fate of the sculpture evokes pathos, it would seem, it powerfully affects our view of the humanity captured within the stone.

The sculpted details, the robes and garments, the hands, fingers and arms come to life, but not a life of fine and subtle experience. We see forms expressly crafted to be garden sculpture. The details are coarse, the robes and garments bend with heavy folds. The anatomy is thickly rendered. In all, these are works intended to survive the ravages of time and weather. They were expected, I imagine, to be permanent. In that way they would appear to nullify Saturn's power over the duration of life.

note: Refer to the Huntington Library and Gardens page on the garden sculpture. LINK

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