{"id":292,"date":"2009-12-01T14:46:08","date_gmt":"2009-12-01T22:46:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/hub.wsu.edu\/andersen\/?p=292"},"modified":"2019-05-31T12:13:43","modified_gmt":"2019-05-31T19:13:43","slug":"impending-doom","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hub.wsu.edu\/andersen\/2009\/12\/01\/impending-doom\/","title":{"rendered":"Impending Doom"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Katherine Wollstein<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cImminent Domain\u201d is an ironic play on words where, after considering it in conjunction with Dan Normark\u2019s photography exhibit in the WSU Museum of Art, it puts to mind rather the phrase, \u201cImpending doom.\u201d Perhaps it was the two stories of displacement and Normark\u2019s portrayal of present happiness before eventual loss generated by eminent domain that inspired this sentiment. He employs blatant contrast throughout the entire exhibit and with the provocative title \u201cImminent Domain,\u201d it seems that to strictly estheticize or sentimentalize this exhibit is to ignore the message it is intended to portray. It seems that we must break away from beauty, tradition, and sentimentality when considering \u201cThe Garden\u201d and the story of Los Desterrados, \u201cThe Uprooted.\u201d<\/p>\n

I began with \u201cThe Garden,\u201d the color photographs and most recent documentations of families in the Los Angeles Regional Food Bank Urban Garden, and found myself admiring the simplicity of \u201cGonzalo Gomez gardening with his dog\u201d and other picturesque scenes. Naively labeling them as quaint and nostalgic in the weird way that a Thomas Kinkade-worshipper might, I was enthralled by their bright colors and \u201csimpler time\u201d snap-shots. Moving around the room, I began to arrange ideas of what this community had been, as documented by Normark\u2019s photographs, and started to feel ashamed for my audacious, well-fed American assumptions about their \u201chappy lives.\u201d Luckily, combating this sentiment was a stimulating contrast between the cement of the city and just across the street a green and glorious garden. Beyond the visual disparity in the photograph\u2014grey versus green, cement versus life\u2014Normark captures the irony of the situation, though interestingly this can only be fully recognized by acknowledging the title of the photograph, \u201cView of the Gardens from the roof of the Food Bank.\u201d<\/p>\n

Contrast and paradox such as \u201cView of the Gardens from the roof of the Food Bank\u201d amalgamated these photographs, with the seemingly random assemblage of items (in one, an umbrella with baby elephants on it shading roses and a crucifix in front of a rusty fence) carrying so much more meaning than supposed by the casual viewer. \u201cMax Iberra\u2019s shelter interior\u201d epitomized this assemblage and contrast: a crucifix, two clocks with different times on their faces, a bowl of exotic-looking fruit, and\u2014most noticeably\u2014what I deemed \u201chopeful eyes\u201d on The Majestic poster from the 2001 film, were all arranged under a thin blue tarp roof. Perhaps it was the very strange presence of Jim Carrey on a movie poster among other equally vibrant items all under a tarp in the face of \u201cimpending doom\u201d that made me want to purchase this photograph. Perhaps the idea of something strange and out of place and yet harmonious with its surroundings despite a hazy future is something we\u2019d all like in our lives.<\/p>\n

Like the items under the tarps, the shelters themselves depicted in several of the photographs are familiar but foreign. They may remind us of the whimsical forts of our childhoods and we imagine ourselves in them, assuming Jim Carrey\u2019s eyes gazing into the distance on our own faces. At the same time, the significance of these tarps in the lives of the people of the garden, so different from our own, is meant to be recognized. We can\u2019t regard them as happy and carefree as we see the shredding tarps, but we can\u2019t believe them miserable when we see the grins carrying armfuls of corn husks. I think perhaps Normark wants us to know that the three hundred thirty families are proud of their garden, where they\u2019ve even proclaimed on a sign he photographed in front of the fence, \u201cOur Garden provides: food, safety, park-open space, family activities, self reliance.\u201d With this, \u201cScarecrow, battered but undefeated\u201d was perhaps the most symbolic and pivotal photograph to this portion of the exhibit; the smiling scarecrow is the face of the people of the garden, and ingeniously Normark juxtaposes the scraggly scarecrow with thriving greenery, inhuman rust and always-perfect flowers, and most significantly, a shredded fading tarp in a growing garden. With this, Normark wants to celebrate, \u201c[Not] the crisis but the gritty exoticism of the place, the sheer grace of people living among plants.\u201d<\/p>\n

Contrastingly, the \u201cChavez Ravine 1948\u201d black-and-white photographs were of human culture and memory communicated through the scenes of people later narrating their daily lives. It\u2019s ironic how from the comfort of the WSU Museum of Art it feels so primitive and yet it is right next to the Pasadena freeway with Los Angeles eating the skyline, another instance of contortion and contrast captured by Normark. I laughed when I saw what I believed the sort of climax to his black-and-white photography: a messy-haired boy rolling his eyes at the camera. This photograph sums up the situation in Chavez Ravine; the superficial enjoyments of what we believe are happy, hard-working people candidly captured in a homey, \u201cTight-knit community\u201d (words of a peer) are scorned by this annoyed boy. He found the exploitation or presumptions irrelevant, and this work implores us to maybe look a little closer at the photographs. Normark\u2019s accompanying quote, \u201cEverybody liked him but no one knew his name,\u201d seems perfect in the wrong sort of way: all of the people of Chavez Ravine were nameless to the city who evicted them, so Normark names them to us by capturing the emotions of the daily life.<\/p>\n

This recommends us to the eternal debate of art requiring explanation to assume the intended meaning. In this particular genre of art that\u2019s been designated as photo journalism of a social commentary, it seems an explanation is necessary to transmit the details of the story of Los Desterrados of Chavez Ravine and the families in \u201cThe Garden.\u201d The art can speak for itself on an aesthetic level\u2014with us admiring the brilliant colors, stark contrasts between rusting fences and blooming gladiolas and nasturtiums, or smiles at the camera\u2014but in order for it to entirely embody the intended meaning, one must read the commentary and plunge from innocent enjoyment of photography to perhaps a more insightful world where viewers are finding out about themselves and hopefully not just smiling at what seems to be a warm, fuzzy \u201csimpler time\u201d but having some empathy for fellow humans in the face of impending doom.<\/p>\n

\n

Major: Wildlife Ecology
\nExpected Graduation Date: May 2010
\nHometown: Olympia, WA<\/p>\n

I worried about this exhibit. I worried that maybe it would be mistakenly viewed through just sentimental eyes when so clearly something beyond pretty and “artistic” in the photographs was meant to be seen. I used this review as an opportunity to in a way allay these worries from where I am and with what I have.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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