History, photography and the human condition

Humans are fallible. Mankind has fault.
And yet art is beautiful.
It is not always pretty, comfortable or tame, but art holds beauty. It speaks of life, death, redemption and grace. It evokes, inspires, awes.  
A conundrum.

This past Thursday I took advantage of the Art Institute's free extended evening hours. I will be the first to admit that I'm thrifty and frugal--but more to the point, I believe visiting the museum on a free day makes the experience all the more enjoyable. One is not required /expected to view two hundred pieces of art in two hours at a rate of $.06 a pop. Rather, I was able to take my time, visit my favorite friends, take photos of things, places and people that caught my eye. And I even ventured into uncharted spaces--galleries I had never paid attention to before.

But the most memorable this time around, was the new photography exhibit. Located in the basement, across from the paper weights and adjacent to both the Thorne Rooms and the bathrooms, the photography gallery changes exhibits every couple months. It's pure genius. For while I love knowing that Monet's Haystacks will always be in the Impressionist gallery on the second floor, there is something wonderful about discovering new pieces of art. This particular exhibit was entitled "American Modern: Abbott, Evans & Bourke-White." Not really a majestic title, nor one that caught my eye when I first walked in. But what did catch my eye were the photographs themselves. And then, being trained in the art of label appreciation, I went back and read what the curator wanted to tell me, the viewer. (Read: It really is a fascinating relationship, that between the creator and audience).

Anyways . . . The photographs! They were stunning! Stunning in the way that 1930's, Depression-era, photo-journalism-style photographs ought to be stunning. And as I walked through the gallery, taking in picture after picture of the city and the country, the lowly and the down-trodden, I couldn't help but think how timely--historically speaking--exhibits like these are.

Sponsored by an alphabet soup of Depression-era Federal programs and administrations, Berenice Abbott, Walker Evans and Margaret Bourke-White captured the 1930's experience with brilliant incite and imagination-- the dust bowl, the grime and routine of industry; skyscrapers, bridges; beggars and laborers. They were storytellers, really. Their tools: shadows and light. And yet, the styles and techniques they created and enhanced became trademarks for photographers to come. The final label of the exhibit read, "By the end of the decade, the values of authenticity, accuracy and balance that Abbott, Bourke-White and Evans all sought through their subjects . . . had become commonly associate with photography itself."

In a time when there was little hope, and more struggles and torment than satisfaction and joy, the techniques of photography and photo-journalism were being used to evoke an image of Modern America. They were simple and direct images of daily life. Nothing glamorous or ornate, yet they evoke both emotion and understanding. I walked away from the gallery invigorated and inspired, feeling oddly apart of something grand.  For, to share in the history of any time period--that is an honor. But to examine visual representations of that time, transmitted from one feeble human to another--that is priceless.

Humans are fallible, indeed. Capturing that need for redemption--perhaps that is what makes art so beautiful.