Jennifer Baichwal and Edward Burtynsky, "Manufactured Landscapes" (2006).

It was only a few months ago that I was gallery-hopping in Chelsea when I came across an exhibition of photos by Edward Burtynsky. At first the shots simply looked like details of urban ruins. But upon closer inspection I realized that they were mining sites, photographed from a great distance in order to convey the monstrous scale of those operations. Everything around us of human origin is the result of one type of extraction or another, and we rarely stop to contemplate exactly what this process entails. In fact the locations that Burtynsky chooses to portray are situated out-of-sight in inhospitable landscapes apart from mass habitation. Perhaps this is intentional, so that people don't realize the full extent of global consumerism.

If Jennifer Baichwal has anything to say about the subject, more folks will become aware of Burtynsky's project. The director took on a formidable challenge when she decided to transform Burtynsky's stills into a motion picture. The impact of his photo enlargements in a gallery setting is undeniable. It must have been extremely difficult to come up with ways to encapsulate the experience for the larger audiences of theaters. Certainly the widescreen format of the movie house lends itself to the material. In fact, it would be impressive to see a print of Manufactured Landscapes adapted for OMNIMAX. It is likely however that the messages of the film would be too confrontational for prospective funders. This is truly an indictment of modern living in all of its current forms.

The opening shot of Manufactured Landscapes is a seven-minute pan of an assembly plant in China that is almost beyond comprehension. We see row after row of workers in an industrial capacity, putting together small appliances to be shipped throughout the Western world. The sense of a monotonous and bleak workaday existence is made unflinchingly palpable. The scope of the facility is almost literally unbelievable. Next we see the workers, clad almost without exception in yellow uniform tops, mustering on a street between buildings. It is a breath-taking image. We are then transported to a series of industrial sites throughout China that reinforce our awareness of the vast impact of ecological devastation that steadily accompanies that nation's progressing economic development. Invariably the viewer must wonder if the human race can survive such destructive activity.

Baichwal usually lets the imagery speak for itself. The ninety-minute running length of the film mostly consists of a quiet exploration of Burtynsky's subject matter. There is a subtly effective soundtrack of instrumental music that underscores the awe evoked by the presentation of his landscapes. Occasionally Baichwal employs the artist's voice to provide commentary and insight into both his underpinning philosophies and methodology. We learn that Burtynsky's obsessions were born on the occasion of getting lost on the back roads of Pennsylvania. He found himself on the outskirts of the coal mining town of Frackville (in Schuylkill County), and was stricken by the post-industrial surrealism of his surroundings. He decided to follow up with explorations of similarly effected areas in Canada (his birthplace and home). After generating some exposure for his work, he was invited to photograph the construction of the Three Gorges Dam in China.

The portions of Manufactured Landscapes that deal with "the largest dam ever built" incorporate information about the human impact of such a momentously-scaled project. These segments, along with the depiction of workers in a boat graveyard in Bangladesh, and of recyclers of computer board components (back again in China), underscore the immediately deleterious effects on the health and lifestyles of those living and toiling in these environments. While the viewer may feel himself fortunate not to share such a plight with these folks, it's not irrational to speculate that we all face a likewise perilous existence in the near future- if we don't adapt new ways of existing within our larger environment. Manufactured Landscapes is a demanding film in several ways. It requires patience and introspection to decode the terrible beauty of the spectacle that we've visited upon the Earth. But it's a worthwhile (and arguably necessary) investment of your time.

A NYC Day-trip.

Thanksgiving break flew by, as I expected it might- given the fact that I dedicated much of it to what amounted to a "day trip" to NYC. As I had planned, I spent my nights at my father's house- a mere hour and forty-five minutes from Manhattan. It was a novelty to have many channels of television to browse through, but most of it is truly crap. I caught a fair portion of Snakes On a Plane, and it was about as mind-numbing as I thought it would be. I also caught a few glimpses of the cartoon Lil' Bush. When I initially saw the title, a few thoughts rushed through my mind in quick succession. I wondered whether it really was what it appeared to be. I marveled that we have reached a point when a sitting president is so truly ludicrous that he is disrespected with an animated lampoon of his foibles on national television. Finally, I realized that this president (or any reasonable facsimile) is only funny in three minute bursts, and then merely pathetic.

Saturday morning we were able to get off to a reasonably early start. My father was willing to drive me into the city, despite his reservations about potential holiday-weekend-traffic snarls. Fortified with four shots of espresso, I was ready to contend with whatever we experienced. It was refreshing to be entering the city with almost no agenda whatsoever. This was my third trip in a little over a year, and the previous two visits were regulated by a set of activities I had planned for weeks in advance. When my Dad suggested that we could drive up to Chelsea and see some of the galleries, I easily assented. For sheer availability of contemporary art, this neighborhood of former industrial buildings really can't be beat.

It seemed like many of the shows were closing when we visited. I really wanted to get inside the Jonathan Levine Gallery, but they were in the midst of an installation- so I was out of luck. But there were enough places that were open to make the browsing worthwhile. I maintained a consistently loose and informal attitude, and so I didn't document anything I saw. I simply took my time and skipped through to whatever intrigued me, without taking any notes. Suffice it to say that we got to see a lot that was to my tastes, and another large portion of work that I considered to be pretentious crap. This time around I skipped all of the boutique-ish salon galleries that specialize in stocking and exhibiting the prints of well-established legends of the Twentieth Century. I stopped for a few group shows (one in particular featured paintings by a group of Europeans influenced by German Expressionism and Surrealism), but mainly stuck to places featuring an exhibition of a single artist. There was nothing that stuck out so prominently that I would remember a name to mention here.

Actually... I take that back. I was surprised (and pleased) to walk into the Charles Cowles Gallery and discover the gigantic photographic prints of Edward Burtynsky. This was a bit of a coincidence, as I had recently wish-listed a documentary featuring his work over at Amazon. Burtynsky took shots of mammoth stone quarries with a large format camera. The results show the full extent of ecological devastation that such industry has caused. But at the same time the vast scale of his shots allows them to assume a troublesome beauty. The brain-twisting enormity of the project sites he depicts allows Burtynsky to play with viewer perception. Only when one notices the (seemingly) tiny presence of people and machinery can he/she appreciate the ramifications of the imagery. It is a truly sobering show.

I couldn't resist an inspiration to take out my own camera as I walked admidst the galleries. There's something about the quantity and quality of work, all packed into a rather limited geographical area, that compels me to engage in the process of manufacturing art. Of the vast amount of sensory data offered by NYC, there is much worthy of partition and apprehension. For an extended period of time, I felt I found my zone. It was a nice warm-up for my talk at the Agni Gallery. It's too easy to forget how invigorating creation can be, when you are involved with trying to represent and sell your work. I had a good time among the few who showed up to hear us pontificate on the process and value of our art. Attendance was modest, but the people who showed up seemed to be interested in what John and I had to say. After we were done, we didn't linger. Our day in the city was happily concluded.