Conflict Time Photography
Tate Modern, London
Walking around London it is difficult to ignore this exhibition, the distinctive grey and red posters seem to be everywhere, even in giant size in tube stations. This is a major exhibition, this is big, to borrow the military terminology, this is a blockbuster.
Having found the way to Tate Modern (not easy given the lack of any signs) you are confronted by the immense and impressive scale of the turbine hall. The next thing you are aware of is that there are no signs inside, the only indication that you may be in the right place is the occasionally shuffling zig zagged column of people waiting to have their wallets skilfully emptied by the small number of staff manning a larger number of ticket machines. The slowness of the service and the shuffling adds greatly to the industrial feel of of the place, art- the factory outlet.
Having found the way to Tate Modern (not easy given the lack of any signs) you are confronted by the immense and impressive scale of the turbine hall. The next thing you are aware of is that there are no signs inside, the only indication that you may be in the right place is the occasionally shuffling zig zagged column of people waiting to have their wallets skilfully emptied by the small number of staff manning a larger number of ticket machines. The slowness of the service and the shuffling adds greatly to the industrial feel of of the place, art- the factory outlet.
This exhibition is based around an intriguing concept, it eschews a traditional timeline approach, say from year x to year y, in favour of one that reflects on history from a variety of viewpoints. Instead of a linear chronology we have co-existing timelines, moments ago, hours ago, days ago, weeks ago, months ago, years ago all co-exist at one time. The journey through the exhibition becomes one of increasing time distance from the event considered. This can produce a confusing topography of time, a series of photographs of the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima appears before Roger Fenton's Valley of death from 1854 for example. The effect is to signal the impact of the action then extrapolate to the effect that the action has had on the environment and its inhabitants.
These strange juxtapositions can have a surprising jarring effect, the vast panorama of Luc Delahaye's vision of Afghanistan appears before you turn a corner to be presented with Don McCullin's vision of the effects of hell reflected in the dead eyes of his shell shocked soldier. Strangely, this image, enlarged to poster size is one of the most intimidating of the entire exhibition, the grim portrait of the immediate effects of conflict is harsh and unflinching. The concept of the exhibition is its strongest point, the curator weaves deftly through a maze of time and event to deliver the work in a logical sequence. Interestingly, the images taken closest to the actual event are the ones that have the most movement and life, the extreme examples of these being Mc Cullin's GI and the haunting images shot by Chloe Dewe Mathew in the Netherlands showing the execution sites of deserters 99 years after the event. It was this sense of separation by time that gave much of the work a detached feel, where an exhibition of war photography would be expected to have a strong leaning towards photojoiurnalism, here Mc Cullin seemed the only representation of that genre. Instead the exhibition presents itself almost as an act of remembrance, it becomes clear that the emphasis is on 'art', the inclusion of several conceptual pieces would appear to reinforce this. It is this decision of the curator to eschew photojournalism that becomes one of the weak points of the whole exhibition, the images are largely reflective, one blasted vista gives way to another, the repetition of theme weakening the effect, the images become less shocking and lose their impact. At times I found myself viewing collections of images as a whole, making a swift assessment as to whether I felt compelled to explore further, how many images of a disused cellar that may or may not have been used by un-named important Nazis is questionable at best. There becomes a creeping feeling that this is a show, a cleverly designed one, and featuring a huge wealth of important photography but you are aware that a financial transaction took place at the gate. The majority of the images displayed are devoid of humans, aside from Don Mc Cullin notable exception being Taryn Simon's portrayal of the survivors, dead and missing the conflict in Srebrenica, or Jo Ratcliffe's grim insights into the conflict in Angola. Where human impact is the most important part of conflict it is a remarkable omission, instead it emphasises the impact on land and property. I really wanted to walk away from this exhibition feeling moved, inspired, maybe even awed. Instead I left this temple of art to the money changers and exited via the gift shop with the feeling of emptiness as profound as the scenes repeatedly played out on the walls of the gallery. By coincidence that evening was spent watching Public Image Limited whose front man John Lydon made the most famous quotes of the Punk era in his guise as Johnny Rotten; 'Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?' |