Art, Exhibitions and Installations, J. Paul Getty Museum, Photographs, Film, and Video

Simultaneous Viewing and Ray Metzker’s Composites

The exhibition The Photographs of Ray K. Metzker and the Institute of Design in the Center for Photographs charts the five-decade-long career of Philadelphia-based photographer Ray K. Metzker (American, born 1931) and offers a context for his visual aesthetic through a selection of works by founding members and influential students of Chicago’s Institute of Design.

In revealing the significance of quiet moments, sophisticated darkroom techniques, and a deep regard for the inherent virtues of beautifully crafted prints, Metzker’s photographs echo the approach of his mentors Harry Callahan and Aaron Siskind. However, during a brief period in the 1960s, Metzker shifted away from the single frame and began an investigation that combined multiple prints in various forms of repetition and on an increased scale.

Chicago / Ray K. Metzker

Chicago, negative, 1959; print 1989, Ray K. Metzker. Gelatin silver print, 10 1/8 x 9 15/16 in. The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Gift of Hallmark Cards, Inc., 2005.27.1966. © Ray K. Metzker

While a graduate student at Chicago’s Institute of Design from 1956 to 1959, a school famous for advocating and encouraging the use of experimental techniques to push the medium beyond documentation, Metzker began to employ in-camera experimentations. Chicago from 1959 is a picture of a rather humble stairwell flooded by light, but it is also an early example of Metzker’s interest in complicating the flat picture plane. In exposing a frame multiple times through partial advancement of the film, he created a loose grid-like structure in a single frame that interrupts a clear reading of the subject. The partial advancement of the film ensures that each exposure is slightly legible and one can read the presence of people walking up and down the steps.

It was following his move to Philadelphia in 1962 that Metzker reexamined the singular image. Philadelphia’s geographic proximity to New York encouraged him to make multiple visits to galleries, where he would likely have encountered large works by prominent Pop artists Andy Warhol and kinetic pieces by Robert Rauschenberg and his contemporaries. In 1964 Metzker began to combine multiple prints on a single support to create one larger work, and soon the Composite series began to take shape. These works are often ambitious in scale, visually complex in their intense use of repetition, and varied in their presentation. Some are mounted to board and matted, while others are affixed to wooden dowels that raise the prints from the backboard and offer a sense of three-dimensionality.

The presentation of the Composites was unique, but the photographs maintained Metzker’s long-standing interest in the quotidian subject matter of his previous street photographs. The prints are populated with passersby or architectural scenes and, when viewed from afar, confront viewers with a compelling mass of abstracted shapes and patterns. Often presented in a grid form, which suggests a high degree of control in design and assembly, the works betray the significant role of chance in capturing a swell of people moving from one space to another or the uninhibited facial expressions of subjects caught unaware. Upon close inspection the individual frames offer terse glimpses into private lives while at the same time creating relationships between complete strangers.

Comings and Goings / Ray K. Metzker

Comings and Goings, negative, 1966; print, 2002, Ray K. Metzker. Gelatin silver print, 34 x 39 in. Collection of Jan and Trish de Bont. © Ray K. Metzker

Employing multiple strategies, like using an entire roll of film as a single negative or combining multiple prints to create a single work, Metzker began to move away from the notion of photographs as handheld, intimate objects and instead created pieces that were made to “hold” the wall. In so doing, he was not only constructing visual patterns by carefully composing the placement of the various lines and shapes in each image, but also creating relationships between the various people he may have photographed at different times or even locations.

Metzker would often turn his camera toward structures cast in stark shadow that presented a wide range of graphic possibilities when the image was multiplied. Static architectural subjects like parking garages or the façade of a building would be assembled into strips of prints to create fluid patterns with looser lines and a more pronounced sense of rhythm. The juxtaposition of a static concrete parking structure with the playful lines in a work like Parking Pavilion reveals a truly photographic sense of humor.

Composites: Parking Pavilion / Ray K. Metzker

Composites: Parking Pavilion, negatives, 1966; prints, 1982, Ray K. Metzker. Gelatin silver print, 30 1/16 x 13 1/4 in. The J. Paul Getty Museum, 2012.26.2. © Ray K. Metzker

The visual language of the various Composites is generally quite similar, in that the subject is initially somewhat obscured or abstracted when viewed from afar and then becomes crisp and clear when viewed upon closer inspection. In focusing solely on a figure for Nude Composite in 1966, Metzker made yet another shift in his practice. While his previous Composite works were created from pictures he made while walking along the street, this work is entirely focused on the figure, with no surrounding architectural details as distraction. In fact, the background has been rendered in such a bright white tone that at first glance the figure more easily resembles a silhouette made with ink than a photograph. This piece teeters between legibility and abstraction perhaps more convincingly than his earlier works, and as a result presents an exciting moment in the history of photography.

Composites: Nude / Ray K. Metzker

Composites: Nude, negatives, 1966; prints, 1984, Ray K. Metzker. Gelatin silver print, 22 1/4 x 10 in. The J. Paul Getty Museum, 2012.26.1. © Ray K. Metzker

On October 25, 1967, the Museum of Modern Art in New York opened a small exhibition of Metzker’s Composite works in which the wall label described Metzker’s practice as consisting “not of a preserved moment but of assembled related moments presented for simultaneous viewing.” This idea of simultaneous viewing is perhaps the most appropriate summation of the Composites series, because it places the task of unraveling a complex image in the hands of the viewer.

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  • By Krystal Boehlert on May 29, 2013 at 8:25 am

    [...] and abstraction…and as a result presents an exciting moment in the history of photography.” More from curator Arpad Kovacs on Metzker’s composites here. Posted on November 2, 2012 by kboehlert. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the [...]

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      All Hail Tiberius, Least Media-Savvy of the Roman Emperors

      Tiberius was proclaimed Roman emperor on September 17 in AD 14, exactly 2,000 years ago.

      He was also a bit wacko. “He was the least media-savvy emperor you could imagine,” says curator David Saunders, who has been in charge of this bronze portrait of Tiberius which leaves us on September 22. He point to this description found in the writings of Cassius Dio:

      Tiberius was a patrician of good education, but he had a most peculiar nature. He never let what he desired appear in his conversation, and what he said he wanted he usually did not desire at all. On the contrary, his words indicated the exact opposite of his real purpose; he denied all interest in what he longed for, and urged the claims of what he hated. He would exhibit anger over matters that were far from arousing his wrath, and make a show of affability where he was most vexed…In short, he thought it bad policy for the sovereign to reveal his thoughts; this was often the cause, he said, of great failures, whereas by the opposite course, far more and greater successes were attained.

      Moreover, David tells us, “Tiberius’s accession itself was a farrago: Tiberius sort-of feigning reluctance, the Senate bullying him, he being all, ‘Well, if-I-have-to,’ and in the end—according to Suetonius—saying he’ll do it as long as he can retire.”

      Suetonius is full of great, albeit spurious, anecdotes about poor old Tiberius, David reports. “When someone addressed him as ‘My Lord,’ it is said, Tiberius gave warning that no such insult should ever again be thrown at him.”

      Happy accession, My Lord!

      Portrait Head of Tiberius (“The Lansdowne Tiberius”), early 1st century A.D., Roman. The J. Paul Getty Museum

      Statue of Tiberius (detail), Roman, A.D. 37, Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei – Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, Laboratorio di Conservazione e Restauro. Currently on view at the Getty Villa following conservation and study.

      09/17/14

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