“While they may look photoshopped, Massard’s fantastical color photos of tropical, arctic and biblical landscapes (with all their respective flora, fauna and other details) are of elaborate models and sets built by the artist in his studio.” (TimeOut New York)
Did the fact that Didier Massard’s works were actually sets photographed make you appreciate his work more? If so, does that mean these photographs can’t stand alone on their own merits? Should you research all of the art you view?
Discovering that Didier Massard’s works were dioramas that he built and then photographed did not make me appreciate his work more, but it did make me understand it in a different context. Photography is one of my favorite visual art forms, and Irving Penn and Henri Cartier Bresson are some of my favorite artists–I am fascinated by the way in which they capture life and image, and there is something to the inky contrast of the black and white in their photography that I find to be extremely striking. However, I do think that the work of building a set and then photographing it is different from the work of capturing life as it occurs. I don’t think it’s more or less, but I do think it’s different. They have distinct implications: one is a striving to make a statement by taking down the world as it is, while the other is an effort to articulate a world that is totally other. That was what I found most interesting in Massard’s work: that it was a depiction of a world not our own, something that mirrored the world we live in, but was its own discrete entity. There was a clarity to the photographs that made them seem almost windows into another place or another time, and the fact that they felt ever so slightly not right made that a much more powerful feeling. They didn’t seem like they could occur in our world, but rather in one that ran alongside it, one that was maybe better, or maybe worse. I was fascinated by the possibility of change in a landscape that was almost like home.
I think knowing the context of these works helped me to understand them and appreciate them more fully, but I do think that they also stand aesthetically as beautiful images. Without the background information, they aren’t quite as intriguing, but on their own merits they do give a sense of otherworldliness, a sense of things beyond the mundane. I think this is true of a lot of art, that knowing the whole helps, but isn’t necessary. Researching the art that you view can be extremely informative. Especially with modern and postmodern art, the context of the work can totally reshape your understanding of what you are experiencing. However, I think most really good art can stand, at least to some extent, on its own. There is often the feeling that something is missing, that you aren’t quite sure what you are seeing, but there will be something that pulls you towards or away from the work anyway, some feeling of beauty or vague repugnance that carries the artwork’s meaning.
Dear Esther: A resoundingly intelligent response. You should probably take over the class tomorrow permanently. Which reminds for some reason of a Picasso quote: “Everything you can imagine is real.”
The fact that Massard’s works were not photographs makes them interesting and creative. The idea of crafting a three dimensional work of art and then turning them into a two dimensional piece, has not been done by many artists. Massard’s models have a mystical appeal to them and arouse the audience’s attention, but only to a certain extent. Much like Alexa Meade’s people paintings, which we saw in class, the reproductions are only as shockingly interesting if the viewer knows that these photographs are actually photographs of dioramas. Otherwise, each work of art is simply another work of art. In this sense, art viewers should always have at least a slight sense of the author and background of the exhibits they are looking at.
In Massard’s case, I would have found his pictures astounding regardless of whether they were snap shots of 3D models or not. Massard’s art is beautifully presented with contrasting colors and precise placement of each object within the art. This shows the artist knew what he was doing – he had an idea he wanted to present and found a way to execute what he wanted to portray. It would have however, been more astounding if he had actually traveled to distance places to get these picture perfect images.
I feel that not knowing how a piece of art is created induces a sense of enigma that just captures one’s attention even more. This relates to my experiences reading novels and how my mind tends to paint the scenes described by the imagery of the text. However, by watching the movie (assuming one exists) of the book, I realize how much it differs from my sense of the novel. I almost feel that the movie restrains the writing to a singular point of view.
By not knowing how pieces of art are created, those who view them are allowed to interpret the art in their own perspective. While this view may not have been the intention of the artist, I feel that art does not have a single purpose; rather, it invokes its own purpose through those who appreciate them.
Dear Allen:
But what occurs if after you experience a work of art on your own, you then research the artist’s intentions? Can’t you re-experience the book or painting or song? This way you can have two catharses for the price of one?
Dear Professor:
I agree with your statement to some extent. While writing a research paper, I tend to avoid reading another paper of my topic at first as to not be influenced beforehand. However, after getting all my thoughts and ideas out, I find that a perfect time to see how others might view the same subject. It never ceases to amaze me how many different perceptions of the same idea exist.
However, sometimes people tend to let the information they learn afterwards overwrite what they believed before. If I believed a painting was particularly beautiful but later found out it was worth $5, that information might unconsciously cause me to degrade the painting to something worthless. Even though I loved the piece of work at first, due to my discovery of this newfound information, I may now let it cloud my prior judgment. This is clearly a negative result of social conformity, but unfortunately, art can be restrained in this way as well.
Dear Allen: As the American existential psychologist Rollo May once noted: “The opposite of courage in our society is not cowardice, it is conformity.”
When I first encountered this picture, I really enjoyed it. It is a beautiful piece and gives off a nice peaceful and serene vibe. The more I looked at it the more appreciated it because of the effort the person had to go to take this picture. The photographer must have had to go all the way to one of the poles to get a picture like this, and the ice there really showed the frigid terrain and climate that the photographer had to face to get that picture. Upon learning that this picture was that of a model, I felt betrayed. It kind of felt like the artist was holding back by solely revealing a portion of his model. The model would most definitely look a thousand times better than that one picture, and the fact that it exists as a model means that taking another picture would not bring any sort of adversity. I must say that the artist is talented for making such a life like model that can easily fool people, but I would have appreciated the whole model rather than just a picture of a model. It’s almost like taking a picture of art and trying to sell it as art. The picture itself doesn’t add anything to piece, and it doesn’t even capture a moment. It is just keeping record of the fact that a model that looks nice was made. I just wished that he or she decided to display the whole model rather than just a picture of it.
This is one of my favorite paintings that I encountered and contemplated on during those few hours on that Saturday. Without the background information on this artwork, it is baffling to determine if this is a photograph, or an actual painting done on a board or a canvas. It would be hard to believe that this picture is one piece and not several photographed dioramas assembled together. This is because, the artist had to be very scrupulous on details that involve the distant glaciers, the icicles, and the rainbow. It would be unfair to criticize an artwork just because it consists of several photographed dioramas. As long as the artist conveys a unique message to his/her dilettantes, there is no right or wrong answer. The artwork can be analyzed in many different ways according to each person’s own understanding of the underlying purpose of it. For example, one person might think that the artist is reflecting on a trip that he took somewhere. Another person might lay a greater emphasis on the rainbow when analyzing. The artist has probably seen many rainbows in life, but has never reached the end to receive treasure from a leprechaun. This probably suggests that struggling in life does not usually end in great rewards as people might usually expect.
This is just an opinion
I think what matters most when viewing any piece of artwork is to consider the artist’s intention in creating said piece rather than just the aesthetic quality (as the very wise Prof. Judell stated in a previous comment). I have to admit, when I first saw the piece, I was very impressed and amazed, thinking it was a photograph and the great lengths the photographer would have to travel in order to capture the perfect snapshot with all the colors and scenery in alignment. However once we found out that the picture was actually of a model rather than real-life scenery, I was actually even more impressed. I just thought about possible model or diorama that the artist had to construct in order to the take the picture, how difficult it is to actually build the model and then perfect the tiniest details, like the shadow of the icicles, where the light bounced off the iceburgs and the auroras in the sky. It actually seemed more amazing that people can recreate scenes like this to the most meticulous extreme.
I know many people felt disappointed after learning that the scene was a model and not in real life, because to a larger extent,it seems like in art, authenticity is highly valued. Original canvas paintings done by deceased artists are worth hundreds of thousands, or millions of dollars, and that’s mainly because wealthy art collectors like owning pieces that the original artist touched and worked on and it has become something similar to a brand name or celebrity endorsement. I don’t believe art has to be like this. I think aesthetic value and artist intention can be conveyed through multiple forms of media, whether it is a photograph of a model versus a photograph of real-life scenery, or an original painting versus an image of the same painting found online and printed onto computer paper. I think I can still appreciate how the artwork looks and try to contemplate the artist’s intent when crafting the piece.
I think the important thing is to focus on what the piece means to you rather than if it’s authentic or not. Take movies for example, are we any less visually enthralled by films knowing that many of the settings are merely sets and backdrops? In a way, if it’s done really well, it forces the viewer to submerge him or herself into the scene and attempt to imagine and BELIEVE that the scene is real. Isn’t that what art is really supposed to do?
I think some people argue that for canvas paintings, the original is always the most superior because there is an element of grandeur and texture found in the original that can’t really be replicated. However, for these photographs, we all thought they were pictures of real scenery until it was pointed out to us. I think the artist deserves extra kudos for being able to replicate the same kind of dimensionality and surrealism we would normally only see in real life in an artificial model.