Dan Estabrook

Still Life, 2005
Unique diptych of pencil on waxed calotype negative, and salt print

Ironically and frankly, what captured me most about this image wasn’t the content of the pictures itself, but instead, what Jerry Spagnoli said during the tour of the gallery that beautifully curated the works of various artists who created pieces of art using almost 200 years old techniques. At first glance, the works created by Dan Estabrook merely appeared as two different versions of the same picture. In my opinion, my initial reaction could be similar to what is shown indefinitely though digital resources. Like many others, I would not have known that this image isn’t at all what it is seemed until I was told otherwise. The digital images would not do the art piece itself or the artist’s purpose of his creation enough justice since digital images would not capture the artist’s intent until further background of the technique and artist is known. The image was something that I have seen before and I didn’t draw my attention back to Estabrook’s pieces until Spagnoli described the Calotype process and the twist that Estabrook cleverly applied to the salt printed piece.

The Calotype process is a technique that was usually an alternative to the daguerrotype printing; but instead of printing on glass or film, it is printed on a high quality piece of writing paper. The paper is brushed with silver nitrate then heated. Right before the image is captured, the paper is brushed with equal mixtures of silver nitrate and gallic acid. Then in a dark room, the camera is exposed to the subjects of the pictures for as long as it is needed. In order to make the image visible, it is again brushed with gallo-nitrate for development and with a finishing liquid to set the image into place.

A brownish-reddish image is shown above in the calotype image—but what I didn’t know until Spagnoli mentioned it was the fact that the two intersecting ropes shown in the immediate foreground of the image was actually hand drawn by Estabrook. So, when the image was later salt printed which is essentially equivalent to making a copy of an image, the salt printed image shows the subjects of the image which in this case the still life: fruits and a cup as well as the intersecting ropes as if they were both captured at the time. 

Not only does Estabrook show incredible finesse in being able to completing alter the resulting salt printed image due to his immaculate drawing abilities but he shows innovative and artistic strengths by having the courage to bring contemporary techniques of physically altering images into collaboration with an 18th century technique.

I would also like to bring attention to the name of the art piece that Estabrook decided to pin onto with the piece: Still Life. The name of the piece contradicts with the content of the picture. Even though the image’s background does show an elusive image of a variation of still life: different fruits and a cup, the big and intersecting, criss crossed, X-marked demands the viewer of the image to focus on the ropes in the salted print image as opposed to the still life itself. Estabrook probably wanted his audience to learn more about the history of the calotype technique that he used which to me, which is what I find to be the most important unique aspect of the image.

One piece that stood out to me at the Howard Greenberg Art Gallery was “Clock Tower,” by Vera Lutter. Like many of her photographs, “Clock Tower” was obtained through a technique known as “camera obscura,” which translates to “dark room.” This was one of the earliest forms of the modern camera in which a darkened box contained a small lens that was able to reflect incoming light through a small opening (sometimes referred to as a “pinhole”). As a result, the light from the room would reflect the image of the room inside of the small box. Over time, the camera obscura would be engineered to become lightweight, portable, and be able to carry a smaller lens, thus, the scope of the image would be able to capture a farther distance, making it possible to photograph distant landscapes, as opposed to single rooms.

The image itself does not show an actual clock tower, but rather the perspective of one overlooking Brooklyn. At first, the black and white contrast of the Brooklyn background caught my attention. The picture was sharp and bright as it most likely depicts the Brooklyn nightlife, as during daylight, there would be more gray color in the image. Nevertheless, Lutter is unique in the image as she incorporates two perspectives in two distinct images (i.e. the clock and the Brooklyn view). In other words, the image differs from a typical landscape photograph as the inclusion of a clock’s perspective puts a spin on the normal landscape image, as seen through Lutter’s other works. The clock is able to block parts of the image, giving it some sense of mystery. However, the image gives an overall calm mood as one can be able to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of nightlife as it is illuminated by the lights of the city and contrast of the white clock against the black sky.

Moreover, the image is unique as the clock and still image [background] cannot be reproduced. The hands will only be the same every 12 hours, and the overall setting reoccurs every 24 hours. Most likely, the exact same combination of clock and landscape will not reappear. Therefore, the image is both simple and complex in its timing and positioning as it instantaneous capture of the camera obscura helps to view the image as a whole more than viewing separate details. Hence, “Clock Tower,” provides a unique example of how one might be able to be connected with the outside world while being satisfied with his/her own personal passion at a distance, yet, be immersed in the world’s natural beauty. It may be frozen in time, but it will last forever.

A particular work of art that stood out to me was Blackwater made in 2010 by Sally Han because it deceives the human eye. The whole image is comprised of 6 squares of plexiglass that border each other in two rows of four and the processed used to create the image is called wet plate Collodion on plexiglass. This means that a mixture of iodide and cellulose nitrate is coated on plexiglass. The specific type of art however is called an ambrotype, and this is how the image deceives the human eye. Although the work of art is titled “Blackwater,” looking at it in the gallery one can see that the water is clearly not black. I was confused yet intrigued by this misnomer even after I learned that ambrotypes are known to appear as negatives when backed by light, however when backed by black they appear as positives. Thus if the images on the wall were backed by black, the water would indeed look black.

I was initially captured by the non-photographical qualities of the photo. At a glance the photo looked like a painting that resembled that of Southeastern calligraphy painting because of the focus on reflections and shadows. But after I looked at the image more closely, I realized it was a work of film. Not only did different exposures change the photographs and how faintly or clearly you could see the branch shadows, but it also made the photography more ominous. The already ominous content of the photographs was made more ominous, only enhancing the feel of the picture. But since many elements of the images are unidentifiable, its ambiguity also contributes to the dangerous feel of the images. The emotional impact is further enhanced by the artist’s flaws when developing the photographs. Only probably not incidental on Han’s part, one can clearly see the fixer stains, which adds to the calligraphic feel.

Compared to digital photographs, Blackwater is a one-of-a-kind work of art. It is nearly impossible to replicate film due to different developing process times and different mistakes that happen during developing; however, Han was able to use her flaws to her advantage, enhancing the feeling of the image as a whole.

Although I enjoyed the art at the Howard Greenberg gallery and found all the works to be interesting and well done, the photograph,  “A Maquette for a Multiple Monument for B29:Bockscar, from the series “Exposed in a Hundred Suns”, stood out to me in particular. The aspect that struck me most were the mirrors, for I have never before seen art like this! I most definitely did not have the same feelings as I did standing in front of the art verses viewing a scaled down version of it in an email.

“A Maquette for a Multiple Monument for B29:Bockscar, from the series “Exposed in a Hundred Suns” by Takashi Arai is a very large photograph. Actually, I’m going to change that. It is 100 square photos all put together to make one large, wide and long image. It is displayed on its own wall in the gallery. The 100 different photos are unique in the fact that they are all printed on mirrored pieces. It was only when I went up close that was able to make out the exact image spread across the mirrors, and, behold- fighter planes. One of them had letters on it, which after  flipping around in my head, spelled out NAGASAKI. I was looking at an image of the bomber that dropped the bomb on Nagasaki. After the fact, I discovered that the artist is Japanese. I find it so interesting that Arai chose to portray these planes on mirrors, better yet, 100 of them. As I stood in front of the mirrors, I kept alternating between seeing the planes and seeing my own reflection. This forced me to place myself in the shoes of the people who went through World War II, of the people who were killed in Nagasaki, of the people who survived and whose lives were changed forever, of the bomber. According to History.com, the explosion wiped out 90 percent of the city and immediately killed 80,000 people; tens of thousands more would later die of radiation exposure. Just like it was a massive task for Arai to create the work of art, so too the bombing had massive effects. Hundreds of mirrors and hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of lives changed forever…

Matthias Olmeta’s “Letter to my grandchildren 5” series is a collection of portraits, made with ambrotype, wet collodion on acrylic glass, varnish, pain, and gold leaf. Ambrotype, also known as amphitype or collodion positive, is a positive photograph on glass made by a wet plate. This process was much cheaper than daguerreotypes and allowed for shorter exposure times, which made it highly convenient in the 1850s. During that period of time, ambrotypes were generally used for work purposes, such as official family pictures. Olmeta, on the other hand, elevates the ambrotype process by taking advantage of its light properties.

Ambrotype appears as a thin negative on glass when viewed by transmitted light, and as a positive when backed with black. Olmeta engraved rows of text behind the portraits. This creates a multi-dimensional aspect to the works, as the words can only be seen from certain angles, depending on where light hits the surface. In order for a viewer to see the work in its entirety, they have to walk around and look for the right perspective. In addition, the text is reflected backwards, requiring a mirror to decipher. This allows for a sensory, non-passive experience for the audience.

Based on the title of the series, the writing probably represents the letters to “the grandchildren”. The subjects of the portraits are all youths looking directly at the camera/audience, their backs shrouded in darkness. Their expressions are blank, almost confrontational – amplified by the stark, dramatic lighting. The black-and-white simplicity of the models contrasts yet complements with the detailed, meticulous gold leaf writing. The ambrotype-intaglio combination is only visible in certain perspectives, which sort of reflects the ephemeral stages of human life. Olmeta is definitely unique for utilizing the ambrotype process for contemporary art, and reinterpreting its usage.

The piece I chose to comment on is Takashi Arai’s “A Maquette for a Multiple Monument for B29: Bockscar.” The initial look of it was enticing alone, but as the curator explained more about the background of the piece, as well as the material it is made out of, the piece itself became much more interesting as I learned more.

The piece is about 100 photographs that are made using the daguerreotype technique. This technique involves coating the plate with iodine and bromine vapor, giving the picture a glassy and reflective appearance. 100 pictures of parts of the airplane was pieced together to form a black and white mosaic. At first glance, it simply was a mosaic of an airplane. However, the curator explained that this specific plane dropped a Fat Man nuclear weapon over the Japanese city of Nagasaki during World War II. Takashi Arai was very interested by WWII aviation, and his grandfather was even a captain of a repairing squadron of Imperial Japanese navy during the war.

Knowing both the background of the subject as well as the artist’s, I appreciate the knowledge and skill that he needed to produce both the picture itself, as well as representing it historically. The picture itself is simply a plane, yet how Arai chose to represent it (through daguerreotype) adds much more depth. It’s pieced together, it’s discolored in some areas, giving off a vintage feel, evoking a historical presence. However, its overall construction is very contemporary. It seems to be connecting bits of the past with the present.

What immediately struck me in the photo depicting four small children in New Deal Photography (pg. 259) was the boy holding the bicycle. His face appears to have a slight smile, indicating that he is pleased in possessing the bicycle. After reading the caption “the oldest boy earned the money to buy his bicycle” (259), I was able to add that the boy’s hard work paid off, which is why his clothes appear to be dirty along with his boots. The caption also says that the boy is the oldest, in which I can infer that he is about ten years old, no later than twelve. While the boy seems to be proud, his sister to the left appears to be the complete opposite. She doesn’t have her eyes directed at the camera and doesn’t even have a smile on her face. Additionally, her clothes seem to be whiter in contrast to the boy’s and even her other sister to the right, implying that she may not work as much as the boy. However, perhaps the boy could do outside labor (which could explain his use for the bike and the money he got to get it), whereas his sister may work inside the house. Nevertheless, the fact that the girl, who appears to be the same age as the boy, holds the bike with both hands reveals that she may believe the bike may be hers, or at least her brother might share it with her, possibly because she might not have something to call her own. Also, the sister on the right holding the cat appears to be around six or seven years old, in which her eyes are directed towards the camera, but she is not smiling. This can suggest that the youngest sister may not be interested in the photographer at all enough to smile, but rather contain the innocence to be around a cat over her siblings. In other words, the youngest daughter may be too young to work and have the responsibility of taking care of the pet (which could explain her bare feet), hence, she could be possibly isolated from her older siblings as portrayed through her possession of a cat (in comparison to a bike), which gives her the innocence to play than work.

Meanwhile, other elements of this photograph were harder to perceive at first. One major detail was the youngest son in the background window on the right. He appears to be crying, possibly because he is not outside with his other siblings. This could be because he has nothing to call his own (in other words, nothing to hold and show off for the camera), or maybe he has something, but is jealous of the bike and cat and wants what his siblings have. Nevertheless, this made me think of why the boy wasn’t included in the caption, which states that there are only “three of the four Arnold children” (259), while he is clearly in the background. Perhaps one child is not part of the Arnold family, but not enough information is given to see which one it is. But even if all four children are part of the Arnold family, why wouldn’t the author state there are four children in the photo, as opposed to three. What is it about the boy that makes the author not include him in the photograph, even if he is not with his siblings? Nevertheless, the lack of detail in the open door in the background only adds to the impending mystery of the Arnold family. Also, the tools on the right and bucket on the left indicates that the family lives a rural lifestyle and does much farm work. Still, many questions arise from the photo on what does each child do in the family and what is their relationship with one another, as well as the parents’ role in the entire photo (i.e. where are they, what do they do). Overall, the photograph did give some material information on the family, but made me curious on the emotional background behind the family’s possessions.