Step out of the elevator into the bare, hardwood-floored Miller Block Gallery on Newbury Street and listen for the footfalls echoing across the hall into the gallery space. There sits "The City: Through the Lens," a small photography exhibit with huge breadth.
Nine photos grace the whitewashed walls, giving the impression that the room has windows on all four sides. On the back wall, actual windows looking out onto Newbury Street let the sun pour in and illuminate each of the other nine glimpses into urban life. Each photo is a glimpse of "the city," the gigantic, pulsating, man-made thing that sprawls out all around the gallery. Each photo views it from a different perspective and through a different kind of lens.
There are Elke Morris' pieces, "Domicile I" and "Domicile II" (2004). They are Iris prints, meaning the artist has used an Iris printer to make a fine art piece from a digital photo. The two pieces focus on freestanding buildings in nondescript urban settings. In both, the subjects, or domiciles, are in sharp focus. Each gives the impression that within the unfocused, dull city, some individuality still remains, as shown by these brightly colored buildings. The two photos seem like portraits because Morris breathes so much life into inanimate objects.
Scott Peterman takes an opposing viewpoint in his pieces, "Ecataepec" and "SP301" (2006). While Morris seems to emphasize individuality, Peterman's pieces take a look at the monotony and infinite quality of the city. Both of his pieces are aerial shots of sprawling, faceless cities. The field of view is filled entirely with buildings.
In "Ecataepec," rows of houses repeat one after another, resembling a fractal image. They fade into oblivion at the top of the frame, obscured by what is presumably hot Mexico City haze and smog. "SP301" is more chaotic, with no apparent pattern to the layout of buildings within the frame. In both, Peterman confronts the boundlessness of the city and how easily things blend into each other, thereby obscuring individuality. Life still manages to show its face from within the inorganic mess of the city, though. Figures are visible in windows, tiny snapshots of life wrapped up in the urban landscape.
Abelardo Morell and Sasha Bezzubov are two other standout artists in the exhibit. Morell's "Camera Obscura Image of the Chrysler Building in Hotel Room" (1997) is a black and white image made with a pinhole camera. A pinhole camera is a camera without a lens that requires a much longer exposure time than conventional cameras and produces very unique images, like Morell's.
In Morrel's piece, the New York skyline, including the Chrysler Building, is projected upside-down onto the wall of a hotel room. It is a provocative and visually intriguing piece that raises some interesting questions. What kind of view of the city does one get from inside one's room? Is what we see through the glass pane of a window an accurate representation of what lies on the other side? It's a complex concept that Morell explores through a technically simple medium.
Bezzubov's "Earthquake #1, India" (2001) is a startling image of the rubble left behind after an earthquake. The remnants of what seems to be someone's home stands crumbling into the debris-ridden street on which it lies. It is a stark representation of devastation and what would seem to be the destruction of life. Like the Peterman and Morris' pieces, life seems to struggle to poke through the cracks. Bezzubov captures the idiosyncratic nature of a home, with open doors casting light onto bedrooms and kitchens. They imply the life that once went on in there and give depth to a seemingly simple image of destruction.
The Miller Block Gallery is about as welcoming to patrons as Wall Street on a Monday morning is to a lost tourist. It is easy to feel overwhelmed with all of these unlabeled pieces of art standing aloof against the walls and the gallery curator barking into the phone, barely looking up for even a moment's glance.
Much like the city outside, it is easy to lose your way, give up and go home. But brace yourself against the cold wind, because "The City: Through the Lens" has a lot to offer to those headstrong enough to stick around and look.
