Spaces
There is something about churches that inspire awe. Just walk into one and you can feel it. Whether it was designed like that to reinforce the same sense of awe and wonder that the religion itself inspired, or whether it was a display of power to keep the minions coughing up their hard-earned pennies, is up for debate, but the end effect is the same. These spaces demand respect, thoughtfulness and quiet. They cause one to slow down, reflect, and for want of a better word, to behave.
I came from a community that was religious only in name. We literally fought each other in the streets to defend our own particular brand of Christianity, but we seldom went to church. On the odd occasion that I did get dragged along to celebrate some Christian festival, I felt the awe. I was meek and humble the moment I entered the space. The difference between this awe-inspiring space and the space where I lived, was stark, and there was no mistake in who held the power in this relationship. The last of the pennies were coughed up without resistance.
I have felt the same awe visiting synagogues, temples, and mosques. There is just something about these spaces that I can’t put my finger on exactly. I have come to feel that it is something about the space itself, rather than what is practiced there. Religious practice most definitely adds to a space. The cultural use and purpose of the space contributes some flavour, but for me the awe is already there. It is baked into the space itself. I have come to this belief because I have felt a similar sense of awe in other large spaces. Derelict factories, nuclear power stations, chemical plants, train stations, airports, lecture theatres, cinemas and so on. Entering these large spaces inspires a similar sense of awe in me regardless of the purpose of the space. Maybe that says something about me, rather than the space, but I sense that I am not unique in this perception.
Gallery spaces are the same. They inspire this same sense of awe. They inspire quiet and respect. People mumble, and move around slowly, respectfully. No one is running or shouting. As a young man galleries made me feel insecure. These clean, white, spaces were not intended for the likes of me. I did not feel welcome there. In my homeland they were bound up with class, and my class did not deal in art, let alone appreciate it. We were not welcome. I felt like a turd amongst the roses. I didn’t just have a chip on my shoulder, but a whole bag of them. With time I matured, my self-confidence grew, and I have come to enjoy the feeling of being in these gallery spaces.
However, the parallel with religious spaces is very strong for me. Gallery spaces arouse a similar feeling in me as churches do. I have come to see these spaces as places of worship, and art as some kind of religion. I love to observe the congregation. I suspect that if an alien visited planet Earth and this alien had some experience of religion and worship from its own culture, then it would probably assume that a gallery space was some kind of church. People quietly observing the art. Moving slowly from piece to piece. Reflecting in silence. Occasionally whispering. What are all these people looking at? What force is causing them to behave the way they do? What are they worshipping?
I enjoy being the alien. I enjoy observing the congregation as an outsider. I document these people’s worship with my very own little camera. I shoot them moving gracefully from piece to piece, their dark costumes contrasting beautifully with the white walls. I shoot them as they hover in front of a piece in quiet contemplation. They see me with my camera, and they don’t want to get in my way, because they think that I too am observing the art. As I gently encourage them to cross my path, they don’t realize that I am observing them!
I enjoy being the alien. This observation as an outsider most definitely informs my photography. I am an outsider, and I am comfortable with it. As a child, I grew up in a socially excluded community. There was love within the community, but we didn’t belong in the broader society, and that is something I felt acutely as I grew. As an adult, I have lived most of my life in a different country, struggling with language, struggling with being immersed in a strange culture. This is also something that I have felt acutely. A sense of belonging is something that has been lacking in my life, but it is something that I am comfortable with. Being an alien has honed my observational skills. I am an observer, and this has in turn influenced my photography. But I do wonder how much I use my camera as a social crutch?
In any case, I look forward to being an alien in the gallery. I enjoy observing, reflecting and creating in my own quiet way as the congregation worship. I think I am onto something. I can feel another project coming on :)
