3.2
Trying to record the “trace of movement within the frame” can either be incredibly easy, or incredibly difficult depending on how we approach it (probably the same could be said for just about any of the exercises on the course and our mentality towards them).
I was excited by the idea: I have an inkling as to how the shutter speed influences what is captured and so I really wanted to try out some experimentation. Well, once again, I found it trickier than expected. Not from a technical point of view – although there were some issues there too – but more of a content issue: what could I photograph to emphasize movement that wasn’t horrendously predictable and mundane?
Having said that, it’s not like being predictable or repeating things can always be a hindrance, it’s just that I want to push myself; I need to do things differently to gain some kind of insight as to what I need to learn, develop and work on. Besides, seeing as this is quite a personal adventure with limited feedback, I think I need to challenge myself, doubt myself, review my process(es),  reflect on outcome, and continue to ask questions almost constantly to be able to make any progress. What would be the point of already knowing everything – or presumptuously thinking that you do – when approaching these tasks? Where’s the learning with that? How can acquisition work if we are just going through the motions? Where’s your love and passion going to be with that type of attitude towards things?
Once I started to read up on the suggested artists from the course notes, I soon realised that this is a huge area of incredible significance to photography and cinema alike and not just from a* historical point of view, but also from a contemporary perspective too.
I was already familiar with Sugimoto’s grandiose long exposure projects Theatres, and his museum waxwork photos, but after watching the Contacts video as suggested by our course notes, I began to get a more complete picture of him. The Contacts series is a wonderfully insightful project and Sugimoto’s explanation of how and why he does what he does is beautifully clear, and, to some extent, I found his voice mesmerizing.
Time, as to be expected, is a key element in his works. From his seascapes series to the Theatre series, he used crystal clear images from large format cameras with long exposures.
His thoughts about the concept of “nothingness” (when referring to the Theatre series) are beautiful; how the white light of the cinema screens reveals nothing [of the film itself] - even the viewers have disappeared - and how that emptiness is caged within the movie theatre: “The movie theatre is the case to hold this emptiness”, that is such an ominous and disturbingly attractive thought: How can we ever represent nothing? It is always something, isn’t it? Does it only become something once we stick labels onto it, or cultural baggage? The white light is no longer a film, although it used to be, so does that make the photo of the "film" nothing? How can we say that the light isn't something? It is the accumulative effect of the whole film, so is that what a film really looks like? Can I say that I have seen that film now after looking at his exposure? In a certain way, I believe we can say that.
Is that how a camera can reveal the hidden secrets of reality, mirroring what Wesely seems to be suggesting  with his own ridiculously long exposures about the hidden marvels of the "Dance of the Universe, which coexists on an entirely different time scale"?
In Higgins (2013, p153Sugimoto is quoted as saying:
"I let the camera capture whatever it captures... whether you believe it or not is up to you; it's not my responsibility, blame my camera, not me."
That's brilliant.
However, does this imply that we are simply slaves to the machine? Or as Rick McGrath says in a recent interview on how just relying on the camera, "...reduces photography to the technology of the camera"?
I love what Sugimoto says about how, when looking at his seascape photos, we are drawn into the sea; the lack of any contextual clues or distractions within the frame just the sky and the sea allows us to see how, as he puts it, to be “freed from the time is to get drawn into the time.”, (05:38). How lovely. I’m sure this works so well with large format prints dominating a wall; that ‘lose yourself’ feeling when looking at those vast expanses of exquisitely detailed seas perfectly divided by sky must be amazing (the fact that he marked out the horizontal division of the frame on the back plate/screen of the camera is interesting too).


*Please note the deliberate usage of the indefinite article ‘a’ as opposed to the common (unfathomable and erroneous) use of the determiner ‘an’ with the adjective ‘historical’. Letters to the usual address please.



References and Sources
Itchyi.squarespace.com. (2016). The Longest Photographic Exposures in History - The Latest - itchy i. [online] Available at: http://itchyi.squarespace.com/thelatest/2010/7/20/the-longest-photographic-exposures-in-history.html [Accessed 24 Apr. 2016].
Siebrecht, K. (2014). INTERVIEW WITH... Michael Wesely -. [online] Talkingaboutart.de. Available at: http://talkingaboutart.de/some-question-to-michael-wesely/ 
[Accessed 24 Apr. 2016].
Photoeye.com. (2016). photo-eye | Magazine -- The Present. [online] Available at: http://www.photoeye.com/magazine/reviews/2012/05_17_The_Present.cfm [Accessed 25 Apr. 2016].
YouTube. (2016). Contactos. Hiroshi Sugimoto. [online] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgN3WIWi4qg [Accessed 25 Apr. 2016].
Tate. (2016). Francesca Woodman, 'Space², Providence, Rhode Island, 1975-1978' 1975–8. [online] Available at: http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/woodman-space2-providence-rhode-island-1975-1978-ar00350/text-summary [Accessed 25 Apr. 2016].
light through a hole. (2015). window of enlightment [Can Manyer library, Vilassar de Dalt]. [online] Available at: https://jesusjoglar.net/2015/06/23/window-of-enlightment-can-manyer-library-vilassar-de-dalt/ [Accessed 24 Apr. 2016].

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