I was in Bristol not long ago and went to the Arnolfini to see the 'Coming up for Air' exhibition, a retrospective of the work of Stephen Gill. Gill is one of those photographers that I think of when I'm trying to work out the relationship between drawing and photography. He intervenes in the process of photography in what I would argue is a similar way to an artist that draws. He really gets to grips with his materials, and just as someone working with charcoal or graphite would investigate their materials both for their physical properties and possibilities and for their associations with the wider world that they emerged from, he pushes and pulls his cameras and various film stocks, into situations and relationships with the world that reveal the physical nature of a camera and its processes and how these properties can be used to build alternative associations with both people and the landscapes they inhabit.
He has buried prints underground so that the chemical processes of photographic image development meet the chemical processes of soil, has communicated with ants and let ravens dismantle his camera. In undertaking these various activities he blurs the boundaries between things. He opens out nouns like cameras, landscapes, people and film stock into verbs like, eroding, bleeding, unpicking, dismantling, seeing, drawing, turning and drowning. He makes us aware of processes and their effects, of unexpected interrelationships and shows us how photography can be a much more active discipline, one that reveals itself as an actant, rather than one that stays in the background as an objective observer.
Gill reminds us that the camera is a much more versatile tool than just a black box used to take photographs. Sometimes you need to break things in order to really find out what they can do.
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