What would Trotsky do?

I had originally thought that I would not discuss photography, or photographers, for that matter, but it seems that I am unfortunately and inexorably drawn to it. Rather than point out photographers I actually do like, I'll stick, for the most part to photographers I either do not like or flat out dislike (there is a difference). I am sure there will be the occasional photographer who's work I enjoy but those I do not dig, do not get, or am simply dumbfounded by, make for better entertainment. So without further ado and without naming names or pointing a dirty finger at anyone in particular I will first begin with two photographers whom I believe should promptly submit self criticisms to the people and lick its collective boot; come to think of it they might already be. Anyway, and the winners are: The running dog, Loretta Lux, and the capitalist roader Jeff Wall.

Now for the difficult part; as I sit..... desperately hoping for a thought to cross my mind. May be that's my problem; I am dumb as a post (no pun intended).... I might be able to string something together to justify my utter disinterest in Loretta's work (sounds country doesn't it) but Jeff Wall will certainly be more of a challenge. I actually like children, a lot, especially when they are alive. As for her images if you lay them flat, do their eyes roll back into their heads and do their eyelids close? Don't get me wrong I sorta like Julia Margaret Cameron, at least in passing, but at the end of the day I don't think she needs any disciples. One Julia Margaret Cameron is more than enough for both the 19th and 20th century. I might also be inclined to give her more credit if she was suffering from consumption and had to live strapped to an iron lung, but as far as I know she lives and works in Monaco, kicking it on the French Riviera; so close to royalty, I could squeal.... Aargh...What can I say, her work feels dead. "You're dead to me Loretta....Don't ever call me again".(door slams)- cut to freshly cut lemon - camera pans left and settles on the opened kitchen window - blue sky, vapor trails, it's April 1943; what a pickle...! In the distance, you can hear a child's drum roll.

When the revolution comes I'll make sure they are reassigned to drier pastures and forced to properly atone for their sins; may be Santa needs new reindeers. As for Jeff Wall I'll let his own work and words work their magic on a yet unimagined and unimaginable scale; and it's back lit to boot. People, please, take a moment to glimpse deep into the inner works of the creative mind: "Wall described the 'event' of this work as 'a moment in a cemetery. The viewer might imagine a walk on a rainy day. He or she stops before a flooded hole and gazes into it and for some reason imagines the ocean bottom. We see the instant of that fantasy, and in another instant it will be gone. The Flooded Grave was completed over a two-year period, and photographed at two different cemeteries in Vancouver as well as on a set in the artist's studio. It was constructed as a digital montage from around 75 different images". Are we suppose to be more impressed by the process than we are by the resulting image; fuck....! train spotting is more fun, and just as time consuming. Jeff, please stand back for a moment and step off the cliff if you please.

You can review his musings here, the intro is a masterful piece of work, you can smell how hard they worked to put one word in front of the other. May be another, actually great Canadian photographer, Edward Burtynsky, can give him a spanky, on location, in his studio, for a tableau. Come to think of it, I'll do it....

"I thought at the very beginning that all my different directions would all be connected by means of working with that truth claim. But never in the same way"*. Throw in a few obscure greek philosophers, 17th century Italian philologers and a professed love for deconstructivist opera and you might even get laid by that pretty little receptionnist at the gallery; she's still young and impresionable and only eats celery sticks and cottage cheese.

* "The traditional claim that photography represents 'truth' is highly contested, and it is this interface between truth and fiction, actuality and fantasy that Wall has chosen to explore."

I don't think this blog is going to further my carreer....Dammit...!

PS: "Fervens ex afar , tamen recedentia ex fervens.!", which actually means, translated from Latin into English "Glowing out of afar , not withstanding retreat out of glowing!, which suspiciously sounds like Japanese barbecue but which really means " Hot from afar, but far from hot". It's that sinking feeling you get when you scope out a hot looking chick with long blond hair and a tight ass to subsequently realize, to your homophobic horror; when she turns around, that HE is nothing but a "crystal-hick".....Dammit....!