PARIS.- A respected writer in the United States, the燗merican Wright Morris (1910-1998) adopted an experimental approach to photography, seeking very early to“capture the essence of what is爒isible”. For爐he first time in燜rance, the
Fondation Henri燙artier-Bresson is爋ffering a燾hance to share his vision both photographic and爈iterary of America. This exhibition includes prints, books and documents from the Collection of the Estate of Wright Morris in燬an燜rancisco.
Wright Morris spent his childhood shunted between Nebraska, Chicago, his uncles’ farms and燼ccompanying his father on long trips across America. At23,爃e爐ravelled through Europe and on爃is爎eturn decided to dedicate himself entirely to爓riting. He爍uickly realised that photography could seize what he had until then been attempting to “capture in爓ords”. This formal research led to爃is爁irst “photo-text”, The營nhabitants (1946), in爓hich fictional texts are paired with photographs mainly taken in Nebraska, where he爂rew up.
Unlike his fiction which often focuses on flamboyant characters, his photographs are practically devoid of爁igures. And yet lots of life quietly leaks out between the chairs (omnipresent), mirrors, cars or爀ven wooden architecture (fundamental). It爄s燼s爄f his photographs are rooted in the land, imbued with a disarming simplicity while retaining the enigmatic character of爌laces and objects laid bare, with no human presence to bring them alive. Bard of the intimate, Wright Morris makes the爄nvisible visible and this paradox is probably the爉ost noble intention in photography.
The exhibition is accompanied by the catalogue L’essence du visible and the collection of爐exts Fragments de temps both published by犐ditions Xavier燘arral.
EXTRACT FROM THE BOOK
Beyond the quality of the images produced and爐he爄nteresting invention of the photo-text book, Morris’s photographic work is characterised by燼nother highly stimulating formal aspect. He does not postulate this himself but it is exciting to see it develop throughout his career. From the New燚irections portfolios to The營nhabitants, he partly uses the same images, altering their composition, adding different texts to them, changing their order in the sequence. The燞ome燩lace is different, since it is the result of燼爏pecific photographic campaign carried out in燦ebraska in 1947, so it does not include previously published images. But in 1968, God’s燙ountry and燤y People, draws on the whole of his existing work, including photographs published in the previous two燽ooks, with the addition of about thirty “new” images that had not been published but were taken at the same time.
What is striking about this book is that the images reappear not just with variations in composition but燼lso reversed. In 1975, Morris said to Jim Alinder: “On爋ccasion the爌rint is reversed because I failed to爏ee it clearly in the darkroom. On occasion, in terms of design and爏tructure, I like the reversed print better. What營爏aw in the darkroom often took precedence over what I saw on the ground glass. For me, the “picture” emerges in the developing solution, and it is the magic of this爉oment that I find the most exciting. I see my爏ubject through the lens, but I conceive the picture in爐he darkroom. Photography is camera obscura.”
Besides his photo-text books, the exploration continues with exhibition catalogues and monographs later爌ublished. The resulting impression is爋f燼燽ody of work endowed with a capacity to be transformed, even multiplied, where the simple reversal of燼n爄mage allows us to rediscover it, or see it quite differently. The idea of an artist sticking to a limited collection of爓ork and constantly rearranging it, creating different propositions, is another unique and爄nnovative aspect of燤orris’s creativity. Here燼gain, he was燼head of爃is爐ime but was never recognised as a groundbreaker by those who came after him, particularly conceptually, like Evans who has been celebrated by several generations until today for爃is“documentary style” and the legacy he left. We燼ll have a vision of the United States, even if we have not seen it, lived in it or passed through it; this is爐he爒ision we get from films, literature and photography. The爒ision we are given by Wright Morris, of Nebraska in particular, is both familiar, in that it conforms to our expectations (wide open spaces), and original. Who spoke to us about this state, showed it to us and took us there before he燿id? [...]
Each place, inside or out, is charged with爐he爌resence, with all the presences, not of燼燾rowd but爋f爀ach爄ndividual following those who came before, without one taking precedence over the爋ther. The爌hotographer transmits this invisible life as爓ell as the image of what is there. He does this with just his photographs. He does it even better when they are combined with his texts, so we hear the voice of those we cannot see but who are truly there. He燼lso manages, magically, to stop us connecting a given setting with a specific person but instead with a life that does not爀xclude others.
In three photo-text books, by rearranging the爏ame favourite images of a limited body of work, sometimes reversing them, or combining them within another story of a different tone, Morris achieves the爁luidity characterising the way an entire people inhabits these places we cannot precisely locate, but爓hich燼re爊evertheless defined. Concretely, we爏ee these overlapping pieces of wood, this wall of old tyres, these stacks of corn, these silver metal knives and forks on a bed of newspaper (“Save These燙hildren?”), as爄f爓e’re touching them with our fingers. We could walk towards this blinding white Neogothic church, this爌atch of shade under a porch, the kettle on the燽rick stove in爐he kitchen.
In a few phrases, we read the correspondence between a father and his son; about a pioneer’s trail; about爐he爁eelings, on the evening of燼燽irthday, of燼燽oy whose mother died. These places are inhabited, simply, powerfully, regardless of爐he燾aptivating formal, conceptual puzzle created by爐he writer-photographer; drawing on a whole collection created in just over a decade. --Anne Bertrand
