Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Photo Journal Two - Dave Anderson, Close Pins
It was tough choosing which piece best represents Dave Anderson’s work. Some of his work inadvertently complements the toy aesthetic and some takes a more mythological bent. I chose to view that work that crossed into the fantastic without the aid of a trick lens. I choose an image that did it on the strength of its own weirdness.
This image is so completely simple: two cloths pins on the line but to me, on first sighting, a hummingbird. I have to wonder what Mr. Anderson thought.
It is that vision, seeing what is not there but is there that draws me. He is seeing into the magic of innocence. Without sounding too sentimental I can remember that spark things had before I started comparing them to other things, before I started seeing them for what they were like because I had not already seen them before.
Mr. Anderson saw something. It wasn’t two just cloths pins.
There is that clear IKEA imagery that people have taken to as art. The image of the place setting, the pillow stack. Everything is crisp and clean-lined. Everything exists in those images in newness of their being.
I know how this can be a study of a thing. Edward Weston’s pepper shots and curled woman shots show us things, are deep studies of form. I appreciate that. I’m not talking about that.
I mean that empty commercial so what crap. It’s crap. It is the world without death and disorder. It’s what being in an anal retentive mind must be like but without the terror waves of disintegration that rush over them all the time driving them to set papers edges to match pens on desks.
Dave Anderson is different. This piece is simple but in motion. It lives in the world. It is full of panic. It’s heart is beating a million beats a second. It is completely alive and it is on the precipice of it’s own mortality.
It is two close hangers fluttering on the line. It is a hummingbird. It is the ticklish wind hours before the twister hits.
This image is so completely simple: two cloths pins on the line but to me, on first sighting, a hummingbird. I have to wonder what Mr. Anderson thought.
It is that vision, seeing what is not there but is there that draws me. He is seeing into the magic of innocence. Without sounding too sentimental I can remember that spark things had before I started comparing them to other things, before I started seeing them for what they were like because I had not already seen them before.
Mr. Anderson saw something. It wasn’t two just cloths pins.
There is that clear IKEA imagery that people have taken to as art. The image of the place setting, the pillow stack. Everything is crisp and clean-lined. Everything exists in those images in newness of their being.
I know how this can be a study of a thing. Edward Weston’s pepper shots and curled woman shots show us things, are deep studies of form. I appreciate that. I’m not talking about that.
I mean that empty commercial so what crap. It’s crap. It is the world without death and disorder. It’s what being in an anal retentive mind must be like but without the terror waves of disintegration that rush over them all the time driving them to set papers edges to match pens on desks.
Dave Anderson is different. This piece is simple but in motion. It lives in the world. It is full of panic. It’s heart is beating a million beats a second. It is completely alive and it is on the precipice of it’s own mortality.
It is two close hangers fluttering on the line. It is a hummingbird. It is the ticklish wind hours before the twister hits.
# posted by Mike : 10:26 AM
