29th January- 5th February 6-9pm
6th- 12th February by appointment
by Andy St. Louis
These days, it seems that a lot of “fine art” has lost that which for so long had defined it; namely beauty, a concept which is inherently impossible to consider objectively. Theories abound as to what makes an object, person or image beautiful, but in the end it all comes down to the emotional response automatically triggered as a result of certain combinations of rods and cones being activated on the retina. In the the nanoseconds before the brain begins to infer all sorts of data and mental assimilations from the content of an image, there is an intuitive—or reflex—appraisal that takes place instantaneously. Certain combinations of shapes and colors, arranged in certain compositional forms and dimensional formats, make us happy or sad, excited or lethargic, agitated or calm, all simply because of what they look like, not what they mean.
Though most visual artists don’t likely think along such scientific (read: deconstructionalist) lines, it’s easy to pick out the ones who justifiably might do just that. Mark Rothko, Piet Mondrian, Ellsworth Kelly, Jackon Pollock—all painters—as well as Anish Kapoor and Richard Serra—both sculptors—immediately come to mind, their work eschewing higher-order thinking in favor of what the Korean Zen master Seung Sahn would call “no-mind.” But to associate photographers with this school of aesthetic thought and artistic practice is no easy task; perhaps because photography is inherently a means of capturing “actuality” (fact, narrative, documentation) or perhaps because a photo represents the encapsulation of an instant whereas a painting or sculpture represents instead the culmination of an artist’s prolonged interaction with a medium. It would seem easier for painters and sculptors to explore, develop and cultivate such a direct emotional engagement with their artwork, given the sheer amount of time required to get it “just right,” working and struggling with it until it speaks the language of “no-mind.” So when one discovers photographs (apart from photograms à la László Moholy-Nagy) that speak this language, it’s best to take note.
“The Color of Calm,” a solo exhibition by New York-based photographer Anya Dennis, is the impetus for precisely this sort of revelatory experience. Currently on view at the intimate Laughing Tree Gallery in Haebangchon, Dennis’s photos trigger a reflex sense of serenity, balance and calm. The power of suggestion, of course, plays not a small role in conditioning viewers to embrace a pre-rational way of looking and abandon—or at least try to ignore—the free associations that create “mental noise.” And yet, the whole show could do without any title whatsoever and would still speak the same way to its viewers.
Created over a period of two months in the summer of 2010, the photos selected for this, the artist’s first international exhibition, reflect the ways in which color, beauty and emotion are inextricably linked. In this case, Dennis explores this relationship using the color green as her point of entry, a color full of latent symbolism via notions of renewal, growth, nature and vitality. While she certainly taps into the natural environment in some her subject matter, more often than not the color green finds its way into her photos innocently, or even subversively in some cases. In Ritual, for instance, one of the more overtly portraiture-oriented photos in the exhibition, green appears as an ever-so-faint layer of patinated moss on a red-brick background. Dennis’s attention to such subtleties in her photos reflects her uncanny ability to capture images that luxuriate in color, contrast and composition—all of which induce a sensory response rather than a cognitive one.
Dennis’s photographs are indeed beautiful, but casual or sceptic observers may entertain internal monologues something along the lines of: “These are just beautiful vacation photos in nice frames … If I were in [insert tropical Southeast Asian country], I’m sure I could take pictures that are just as good as these … What’s so special about these images?” Such a self-assured statement, however, is hopeful at best, especially when taking into account Dennis’s years of honing her craft and her artistic process. A self-taught photographer, Dennis’s eyes were metaphorically opened during an extended stay in Accra, Ghana in 1997, while still a student at Clark Atlanta University. Her travels across the African continent since that initial encounter provided her with the “blank canvas” she needed to explore the relationship between culture and identity and deepen her commitment to photography as a means of “capturing the soul.”
It is her most recent body of work, however—created in Bali, Malaysia, Singapore and Japan—that truly testifies to Dennis’s having fine-tuned her craft to a level that many only dream of. Her ability to capture images that penetrate to the very essence of her subjects and enrapture viewers by appealing to their eyes—the windows to the soul—rather than their rational sensibilities sets her apart from even the most prolific “travel photographers:” a title altogether inadequate for someone of Dennis’s caliber. In her artistic practice, Dennis works along thematic—as opposed to specific—lines; instead of setting out to photograph monks, she looks instead for manifestations of spirituality. Or rather, she doesn’t go looking for anything at all, but has an eye towards sights, stories and situations that resonate with the emotions, concepts and sensations that she is constantly exploring. The result is a deeply personal body of work that can’t help but captivate whosoever comes in contact with them. This expert eye, in synchrony with the intimacy and immediacy indelibly inscribed in her images, confidently locates Dennis’s recent work alongside any cover of National Geographic.
The installation at Laughing Tree Gallery—images all of one uniform shape and orientation—does away with all distractions, embracing the simplicity of the gallery’s physical space that encourages the mindful engagement that Dennis’s work demands. The sequencing of different images in the show, itself executed in a highly conscious manner, only further serves to facilitate genuine interaction with the images individually and as a progressive and comprehensive “calming” unit.
“I don’t choose my images,” says Dennis, true to form and her unique way of seeing the world, “my images choose me.” A bold claim perhaps, and yet it speaks great truth about her work; like Pollock and indeed, the entire company of what may be aptly called “no-mind” artists in Western art history, Dennis’s photographs reflect a oneness of spirit with her subjects that speaks a universal language.