As It Is — by Rinko Kawauchi

Pale, iridescent, fragile, buoyant, ethereal, quiet…still. If a mother’s lullaby could be heard through the eyes, that’s how it would be seen in these photographs. Rinko Kawauchi’s latest book, As It Is, published by Chose Commune, delivers a tender elegy to birth, motherhood, and the inextricable link of that bond to our surrounding world. 

Kawauchi’s images feel like ghostly apparitions of dreams remembered the morning after. In desperation you try to recall events as they happened, in the order they unfolded, but the best your memory can offer is the weight of a love, the touch of familiar skin, the sound of a trembling sky, the luminance of light. And in a way, that memory procures a truth as beautiful as the dream itself. That’s a Kawauchi photograph.

That light!—calming, graceful, radiant—the faithful guardian present in every one of these pictures. Looking at Kawauchi’s world feels a lot like seeing our own world anew, from below, up close, through the eager eyes of a child unburdened by expectations. This world brims with possibility. But inseparably woven into this wonderment is the honest beauty of life’s constant reminder to us: nothing will ever stay as it is. A child will grow in mind and stature. Dew drops on a blade of grass will ascend to the sun. That same sun will pry open the buds of a dormant tree. The vestiges of slumber in static fields of hair, angling upward like wind-swept brush, will eventually fold back to the head. A bubble wafts through the air; the skin of water carrying the weight of a single breath. It will undoubtedly burst, or rather, it already has long ago. Encased in the four walls of a photograph, these lyrical observations hang suspended, performing for us indefinitely.  

Photography excels in its ability to fix what is always in flux, to decelerate the speed of existence—something we are all experiencing at a dizzying pace. Looking through photographs of our own families or of the natural world, we are reminded that all of life is a cycle. Love will burst like spring, and just as swiftly freeze like winter. Perhaps that is why we photograph those we love most—an attempt to embalm what is already slowly expiring. But if photographs can teach us the lessons in loss, maybe they too can show us the promise of renewal. Those dew drops will surely form again. The spider will spin a stronger web. Broken hearts will mend. Death secedes the stage to birth…and back again. This book is an ode to life’s totality in all its bang and hush, and with reverence, Kawauchi urges us to slow down and consider the grandiosity of it all. Every small creature, every whispered moment between mother and child— they matter. For these small anchors become our portals to a deeper connection and presence with the world. That’s photography’s gift to us.

Closing the delicately wrapped covers to As It Is, my eyes are left refreshed as they would after a deep sleep, and I return to the world recalling a beautiful dream. I see it all around me, as it always was, and as it is now. If you stand perfectly still, perhaps you can see it too.

All images © Rinko Kawauchi © Chose Commune

Rinko Kawauchi: As It Is

Softcover

144 pages + 18 inserts with text

7 x 9 in.

Publisher: Chose Commune

Publication Date: October 2020

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Illuminance by Rinko Kawauchi

Son by Christopher Anderson

Still Here by Lydia Goldblatt

"I" of the Beholder: Pierson's Projections on Form and Fantasy

Jack Pierson (b.1960), an artist working in photography, sculpture, and installation among other mediums, initially executed a series of fifteen color photographs titled Self Portrait as a published monograph in 2003 and subsequent exhibition at the 2004 Whitney Biennial. The images, depicting a range of male figures at various points of age, present a visual conflation of a single lifespan, from young to old—the life of the artist himself as suggested by the title. Peculiarly, none of the figures in these photographs are of Jack Pierson, but rather implied representations of the artist’s expressed identity or perhaps an idealized version of it.

Looking at the series from an aesthetic standpoint, parallels may be drawn to editorial or fashion images made for magazine publications; the modeled lighting (accentuating the rigid or even svelte curves of the male physique), seductive poses, the prominence of bare skin, and other directorial hallmarks suggest a sort of staging or construction of the image. These are not journalistic snapshots or portraits done in the spirit of documentary photography.

© Jack Pierson, Self Portrait #1, 2003

Self-Portrait #1, 2003 may be one of the only photographs to masquerade as a snapshot, or at least one that does not overtly display the visual characteristics of an art-directed image. A young male figure—a child no more than ten years of age, completely nude with blonde tousled hair—finds himself back to the beating sun, surrounded by the harsh barren realm of the natural world. His demure slender frame precariously wields a large crude axe half his body length overhead. All around, stacks of wooden logs form a makeshift wall nearly dwarfing his minuscule stature. His eyes stare intently at the hefty slab of wood laid on the ground before him. The figurative and literal weight of sweat and survival has been laid prematurely on the feeble shoulders of this young child. Surely this burden has not been carried out of his own volition, but as a form of instruction or assignment. Or has it?

Another point of contemplation arises from the surreal portrayal of the open body in an unforgiving environment. Suggested in the out-of-focus plane of the distant background, set against a dusky blue sky, the skeletal branches of a tree sway delicately in the wind; sparse wisps of green foliage cling on to their bones like seaweeds to driftwood. We are not in a lush and bountiful land, but a destitute valley where survival must be arduously wrung from the soil. Straightaway, this child seems ill-equipped to handle the herculean task set before him. The vulnerability of his infantile skin—exposed to the elements of glaring sun, jagged dirt, and flying shards of rogue shrapnel, as well as the ominous threat of the heavy blade breaking on flesh—impregnates the image with an air of tension. The act performed balances on a thin line of disaster, a crystalized moment fraught with inevitable danger.  

Despite these peculiarities, Pierson’s photograph may be initially read as a document of a specific time, place, and event: a record. The axe caught in mid-swing (exemplifying photojournalistic concepts of the Decisive Moment), the warm nostalgic colors reminiscent of traditional C-prints found in family albums, even the slight hint of age from an amber color shift at the bottom edge of the frame: these all suggest a non-absolute degree of factual integrity—an inkling of truth.  Looking closer and longer, details begin to misalign or contradict one another, dismantling the boundaries of the photograph’s claim to authenticity. Inevitably, the image leads us to confront our own preconceived notions of gender roles and how those roles are constructed, assigned, and reinforced from a young age.  

The pitfalls of construction form the crux of Pierson’s critique on a society that fosters and perpetuates an idealization of identity in regard to gender, and how those constructions fall apart from careful viewing and analysis. In each of these photographs, clues are laid in plain sight pointing to the fallacy and facade of the constructed reality at hand. Self-Portrait #1 ultimately falls flat as a plausible scenario considering the inconsistencies of the clean-cut wooden logs in relation to the primal tool being used: the axe. Conceivably, this wall of stacked lumber had been prepared beforehand by a motorized saw or even scouted as a premeditated location. We are looking at an outdoor set—the child, an actor fulfilling a role. The work must also be considered within the context of its printed size and presentation. Measuring 52 ½ x 43 inches, the large pigment print exudes a commanding presence, on par with a majestic canvas, inviting the viewer to get lost in, and subsequently scrutinize, every sumptuous detail of its construction.  This is not a small intimate family photograph, but a strategically devised tableau vivant meant to be visually consumed and interpreted on a grand scale.  

© Jack Pierson, Self Portrait #28, 2005

Examining two other photographs from this series, Self-Portrait #25 and Self-Portrait #28, we continue to observe the underlying thread of constructed identity, albeit in a less inconspicuous way. In both of these images, the virile male figure, presented front and center as a partially clothed object of seduction and desire, confronts the audience through posture and gaze. The figures, each different in bodily frame (one more defined than the other), present themselves within the setting of a photographer’s studio. Elements which are normally curated out of the frame in highly polished and controlled commercial or fashion photographs are instead left as reminders to the artifice of the image. A soft-box, light stand, reflectors, V-flats, pedestals—all shapers of light and form, are referenced here as symbolic tools of the sculptor. In this case, the sculptor is Pierson himself and the figure before his lens embodies the articulated slab of marble.

Leochares, Belvedere Apollo, Roman copy of 130–140 AD after a Greek bronze original of 330–320 BC

Continuing along with this analogy, the posing of the figures in contrapposto in conjunction with their refined masculine features allude to ancient Greek and Roman sculptures of young males. Bodies and faces fashioned after the physical perfection of the gods reference the collective social consciousness of the idealized male figure. A mixture of frailty, vulnerability, strength, and confidence, these bodies sit atop the pedestal of our longing. Taking into account these historical art references and the manner in which these images touch on the aesthetic hallmarks of consumer photography (glamorization and idolatry), this work may be read not only as a reflection of who the artist desires, but also as the artist’s inner expression of fantasy—to be the object of desire himself.

© Jack Pierson, Self Portrait #25, 2005

Looking closer at Self-Portrait #25, a middle-aged male figure leans confidently against a white pedestal, one arm on the hip, the other supporting his weight. Long waves of dark locks cascade down to meet his shoulders. Shades of coarse stubble blanket his angular jaw. He stands partially nude, sporting only white underwear and an array of deep scars peppering his torso and abdomen—the dashes of raised skin revealing themselves in the calming glow of an angelic light. Standing before us, the figure exudes the monumentality of Michelangelo’s David, yet also calls to mind the poetic violence in Pietro Perugino’s St. Sebastian, c. 1495. In this aforementioned oil on oak, the young saint, his body penetrated fatally by arrows, lies helplessly bound and nude, save for a single garment loosely draped around his genitals. Akin to Pierson’s photograph, we the audience visually ravage and consume his body as an object of seduction and desire.

Michelangelo, David, 1501-1504

Pietro Perugino, St. Sebastian, 1495

As a concluding note to ponder, I refer back to Self-Portrait #1—the young male figure wielding his axe, forever suspending in animation a moment of certain disaster. Later in this constructed timeline, we see the other representation of Pierson’s identity (Self-Portrait #25), manifested now as a chiseled man bearing the scars of that childhood endeavor. The artifacts of manual labor, of callus-forming logs and brutish instruments, have been replaced with the haven of the artist’s studio—a sacred space for the sculpture of ideas, demanding survival of a different sort. 

Beyond the Frame: A 'Portrait' by Paul Mpagi Sepuya

Paul Mpagi Sepuya (b.1982), a Los Angeles-based artist working with the medium of photography, creates experimental and collage-like work elaborating on the foundation of portraiture that informs his practice. Using the photographer’s studio as a stage for collaboration, he invites friends and even lovers to be subjects and fellow partakers in the art-making process. Often incorporating and referencing the physical tools of the studio environment into his images—drapery, clamps, stools, light stands, tripods, V-flats, etc.—he pieces together codified compositions exploring the intimate spaces born between photographer and sitter.

In his most recent works, Sepuya uses a mirror as a form of literal and metaphorical introspection. By including or suggesting his own body in the images, they become, in essence, self-portraits—the artist looking at himself and in turn, looking back at us, creating the bridge between artist, audience, and space. As an additional element to his ‘portraiture’, Sepuya adheres large fragments of photographic prints onto the surface of his mirrors, creating a visually disorienting dialogue between what is, in fact, physically real and what is an illusion of form. These prints, which have been torn, severed, and cut into crude graphic shapes, bear the semblance of human flesh—of interlocking body parts. Visual fragments of skin, hair, torsos, arms, legs, and hands are collaged into symbols of physical proximity and intimacy, all the while referencing Sepuya’s deep-rooted knowledge of art history. These highly conceptual works filter through the perspective lens of a Black queer artist, revealing tender notes of Sepuya’s reflections on identity regarding race and sexuality.   

© Paul Sepuya, Mirror Study (_MG_1214), 2017

Taking a look at a photograph titled, Mirror Study (_MG_1214), 2017, we can begin to decipher some of the coded language being employed through means of fragmentation and juxtaposition.

Mirror Study (_MG_1214), 2017, a large color photograph measuring 51x34”, depicts a seemingly barren room. A white wall and stone-like floor sets the backdrop; only a hint of the ceiling space is revealed—wooden beams, supports, and an incandescent light. Occupying a majority of the frame, a large mass of jagged triangular shapes congregate at the center, forming a fragmented clump of gesturing hands and a set of legs severed below the knees. It is not easy to decipher at first glance, but judging from the musculature and the prominence of hair (even a slight hint of what resembles a scrotum) the figures depicted look to be of male origin: one Caucasian, one Black. The parts seem to be suspended in midair, encased in separate worlds of darkness and shadow. Just below this kaleidoscopic display, three stick-like protrusions extend out like upside-down antennae, meeting the smooth marble-like surface of the floor. 

One of the most inconspicuous elements of the image—strips of black tape—lie in plain sight, subtly camouflaged among the hard edges of this formation. Upon closer inspection, one begins to realize that these bodies do not exist in this world as traditional three-dimensional forms, but rather as an illusion of form. In reality, they exist perceptually on the surface of various photographic prints that have been adhered to an ‘invisible’ mirror. Looking even closer, another important detail reveals itself: a pair of hands, supposedly those of the artist himself, emerges from edge of the frame to greet this corporeal chaos— touching, pointing, and interacting with the surface. These hands exist physically within the world of Sepuya’s photograph, apart from the facade and superficiality of the aforementioned prints.

In fragmenting the figure into these distinct visual planes, Sepuya brings attention to the fluidity of the queer body and the multi-faceted dimensions of how it is perceived, constructed, and at times, stigmatized by an exclusive society. Though he primarily works within the discipline of photography, here Sepuya embodies the spirit of a collage artist, calling to mind some of the energetically colorful collage works of the Harlem Renaissance such as those from Romare Bearden. The way in which subject matter presents itself in fragmentary form and shape connotes a complexity of identity and of relationships. In both Sepuya’s and Bearden’s work, the notion of intimacy, community, and togetherness become thematic focal points as each of these artists crowd the frame with a proximity of seemingly animated bodies: engaged, in communion…touching.

© Romare Bearden, Young Students, 1964

One noteworthy detail from Sepuya’s collage-like assembly is the act of omission; Sepuya has chosen to obscure himself, completely denying his face, legs, and torso of representation. The only hint of his presence comes from the set of hands extending out from the void—hands of the artist, the creator, God in human form. The graceful loving gestures enacted by the artist’s hands—which are mirrored in the images of the printed materials—reference The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo. Contrary to traditional Biblical representations, Adam is presented here as a multi-dimensional queer figure, a product born and reflective of the creator who has lovingly crafted his image.

Michelango, The Creation of Adam, c. 1508–1512

Rembrandt, Self Portrait, 1628-1629

This partial omission of form in self-portraiture goes as far back as Rembrandt’s Self-Portrait, 1628-1629. A young Rembrandt seen here, strategically veiled in velvety shadows, reveals a glint of the interior self, described only by the soft faint outlines of hair and face—suggestions of the body rendered through a nuanced sensitivity to light. At the time, this marked a bold departure from the early conventions of portraiture characterized by even lighting and stiff formulaic postures. In a similar vein, Paul Sepuya pushes the boundaries of what may be considered ‘true’ portraiture in modern contemporary photography. Akin to Rembrandt’s obliteration of figure, Sepuya teases his presence within the image, all the while commanding authorship through the indelible marks of his artistic hand, both literal and figurative. In these two works, spanning hundreds of years apart, both artists seek to redefine what a portrait can be—something that perhaps does not rely solely on the descriptive summations of the surface, but hints at something deeper beyond the frame.