I often think about the status of the art of photography. Is it diminishing in value? Is it more ubiquitous, hence less important? Is it a means of expression that is less relevant than it once was? Has it been tarnished by its sheer omnipresence? Many of us who use this medium as a mode of expression probably wrestle with these questions. Yet, we continue to toil away at our craft, ignoring the change in the weather (metaphorically speaking.)
Daido Moriyama, a photographer I greatly admire, once released a body of work titled “Farewell Photography.” One could interpret the title as his own personal goodbye to the medium, and a look at the images from this series would certainly validate that opinion. Grainy, overly contrasty, scratched, water damaged and generally abused, the photographs felt like an extreme that could not be returned from. We know from history that Moriyama did indeed return from this precipice in his personal work, still photographing to this day. However, if we look at the title as a broader statement, I think its relevant to consider the idea of saying farewell to photography as something that still resonates today.
The image above is a film leader from a roll of 110 film I shot earlier this year. A simple, throwaway strip of film stock. But when I scanned it, I saw other things emerge. A sky, devoid of the brightness of the sun. Ab scorched landscape. The universe in a smattering of dust. An existential landscape. The end of straight, photographic representation? Is this even a photograph? It is a piece of film, exposed in a camera, and contextualized by my eye, my brain. Is it nothing or is it everything? Perhaps both? Is it a wrench thrown into the mechanisms of the forever churning, social media fueled, torrent of images? I’ll leave that for you to ponder.