So there he was, old Frank Frith, bumping along the sands of Egypt in his Ford Focus, his fed-up-to-HERE wife riding shotgun, equipment, chemicals, and crabby kids rattling around in the back. Up ahead he sees the sign that is his salvation: Scenic Overlook, 1 Mile. Hallefuckinglujah.
In his great blog Conscientious, Joerg Colberg expanded his earlier examination of perceived plagiarism in photography, and it raises some interesting points. As a photographer of the land, however, I might have a different angle on this discussion, both literally and figuratively. I’m currently working on a set of books that reference Victorian photographs of antique ruins and monuments. In my online research, I quickly saw a basic problem.
That scenic overlook is clearly crowded, and while I generally run a bit cynical, or perhaps just skeptical, I don’t hold the automatic assumption that similar photographs are, without question or exception, plagiarism. When I followed Joerg’s link here, I could see why: I, too, have long-shots of tiny people on beaches (English beaches, come to think of it), people on benches looking at Nature (craploads of these), winding, precarious paths going up (and down) hills, and people on a snowy peak - and at a golf course, even. Snow, and I live in Minneapolis!
I think this discussion is most interesting when it addresses intention and coincidence. Many of us work alone, often developing ideas and projects over several years. Decades, even. If several bodies of work come to light at the same time, with startlingly similar images and techniques, it’s entirely possible that it’s simple coincidence. That’s not a juicy explanation, but it happens a lot. A strip of buildings between water and sky can only be photographed two ways: color, or black and white. Now, of course, the color can be saturated or pale, and the buildings can be romantic and quaint, or industrial. We can make our choices. Would you prefer a Granny Smith or a Bramley apple? Both green, both apples. There is really only a problem when you remove the annoying little Granny Smith stickers and put them on the Bramleys because they’re a lot cheaper. It’s dishonest, and dishonesty is the bastard child of ill intent.
I try to keep up, I really do, but every so often I’ll run across a body of work that everyone else seems to know but I’ve never seen before. Or even heard of. That happens to all of us, and often. I’m not sure how else Steven Meisel could have shot the Dogging pictures if they weren’t at night, with flash, just like Kohei Yoshiyukis’s The Park. I’d be interested to hear from regular reviewers at venues like Review Santa Fe, Photolucida, or Fotofest. I’m sure they have witnessed the sudden appearance of new, identical themes, subjects, and processes cropping up, seemingly from nowhere. Did Jung have anything to say about the contemporary photography market? Can we pretend he did?
I started this post with a music reference in the title, so I’ll end with another. As I said before, I’m a Minneapolis girl, and if you know much about music, you will know The Replacements. I’ve been a huge fan for 25 years. Check out Art Brut’s great song, called “The Replacements” where Eddie Argos is aghast. He can’t BELIEVE he’s only just discovered The Replacements. Cracks me up every time I hear it.
