28 Stories at LCC
Confusion reigned as I made my way to the London College of Communication’s (LCC) MA Photojournalism and Documentary Photography Graduate Degree Show. Firstly, with head buried in book, I sped past Elephant and Castle tube stop requiring me to make a u-turn. Secondly, on arriving at the LCC’s headquarters, I found myself immediately lost within its labyrinthine halls, taking me through passages where the solitary sound of my footsteps was occasionally complemented by the muffled echoes of the college’s sound and photographic laboratories. Eventually, I retraced my steps and discovered that the exhibition was in fact situated relatively near to the college’s entrance. With over forty-five minutes wasted on retracing my steps on a cold December morning, I was relieved to swing open a set of doors and find 28 stories.
28 Stories, brings together the work of the 28 students who are coming to the end of their yearlong course at the LCC. The group is extremely diverse both in terms of age and nationality. Furthermore, as John Easterby writes in the introduction to the exhibition’s catalogue, this resulted in a body of work that ‘is diverse in theme, style and medium, exploring the human condition with intelligence and wit in both traditional and unconventional ways.’ Indeed, the course, its students and this subsequent exhibition have produced a number of themes, ranging from topical subjects such as the environment or the economy to the elemental and philosophical.
For me, the photographers who addressed the themes of death, memory and nostalgia displayed the strongest projects. Photographer Freya Najade lucidly exemplifies these concerns in her project If you are lucky, you get old. Najade succeeds in making visible, those members of society that can at times appear invisible. She successfully illuminates the hobbies, passions, histories and idiosyncrasies of those that she portrays. The resounding effect is not of excessive sentimentality or pity but of a healthy conversation between generations, gaining from mutual respect and trust. Similarly, Wing Ki Lee’s project Tsang’s Odyssey engages the audience by recounting the colourful and imaginative life and thoughts of an elderly gentleman, Tsang. Juxtaposing both his own visual record with scans of the sketches, plans and possessions of Tsang; Ki Lee reveals the ambitions and tenacity of a man committed to a life-long project. Again, like Najade, the project does not appear mawkish or intrusive but produces a visual record of the dialogue between generations.
Meandering through the exhibition, we find two other photographers who elaborate on the concerns of Najade and Ki Lee. However, while both these photographers tackle questions of age and memory, Julian Lass and Briony Campbell’s projects challenge the audience to place these same concerns in the context of the tragedy of death or nostalgia. Julian Lass’ mnemonika discards the traditional notion that a photography exhibition must display its pictures directly on the walls. Instead, we are shown a short film with the responses and reactions of his mother to photos taken of places and landscapes relating directly to her formative years spent on the Baltic sea coast. We are provided with a project of particular intimacy as we are invited to view a variety of the emotional responses or thoughtful silences indicative of the power of nostalgia. In a similar vein, we are invited into an extremely personal space with Briony Campbell’s Dad project first edit. Here, Campbell displays both photographs and short films that form an account of the last days of her father’s life. We are shown everything from trips to the hospital, jovial moments in the family garden and the moments immediately following his death. Inevitably, we ask ourselves whether we should be allowed to play witness to scenes of such a personal nature. However, questions relating to the intrusive nature of the exhibit are superseded by the joint nature of the project. Indeed, the project manifests itself as one that is actively pursued by father and daughter as a means of handling the emotionally fragile wait for death. As Campbell states herself, ‘ I struggled to find the right balance between dedication and distraction. At first, the idea of introducing a camera into this already un-resolvable equation seemed unwise, but eventually I think it became the solution.’
Framed ominously amongst the photographs, drawings and scans of Wing Ki Lee’s project Tsang’s Odyssey we find the erudite words of the Dalai Lama:
The Paradox of Our Age
by The Dalai Lama
We have bigger houses but smaller families;
More conveniences, but less time;
We have more degrees, but less sense;
More knowledge, but less judgment;
More experts, but more problems;
More medicines, but less healthiness;
We’ve been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.
We build more computers to hold more information to
produce more copies than ever but have less communication.
We have become long on quantity,
but short on quality.
These are times of fast foods but slow digestion;
Tall man but short character;
Steep profits but shallow relationships.
It’s a time when there is much in the window,
but nothing in the room.
Indeed, as we view these exhibits, we find several photographers who endeavor to search out and document those facets of life that the Dalai Llama fears losing. Here, photojournalism finds its place as a considered and illuminating response to the ‘Paradox of our Age.’ We participate as an audience who has been invited into the subject’s home to learn, discuss and enjoy the complexity of individuals or relationships. In 28 stories perhaps we can find comfort in the knowledge that while there is much to look at through the window, there is at least something to be found inside this room. Needless to say, my journey out of the exhibition and back home was a little less confused.
http://www.afterjugo.com/28stories/index.html
