Chris Jordan and IBM

I was recently killing some time in the main waiting room at the Westchester County/White Plains airport. In this area, nearly every surface is covered with advertising, but it was hard to miss the huge IBM ads (one shown at right) pasted to the pillars. As I sat there amidst the crowd, I kept looking back and thinking I had seen the image someplace before. While there was no image credit anywhere on the ad, it finally dawned on me that this was a Chris Jordan photograph, repurposed in a commercial context.

Chris Jordan (artist website here) makes mural sized images that depict mass culture and consumerism in the form of highly dense pictures of repeated forms. He has made images of water bottles, cell phones, cigarettes, packing peanuts, oil drums and plastic bags (among many other items). His work is represented by Kopeikin Gallery (here).

The aim of this post is not to review Jordan's work, but to consider the questions of fine art photographers allowing their work to be used for advertising. As I waited for my plane, I couldn't help thinking about what my reaction to the ad would have been if I owned the same image and had it hanging in my home (for the record, we do not own any work by the artist, so this is a hypothetical exercise). By the way, it is called Light Bulbs, was made in 2008, and is normally printed 72x96, not vertical as is the case for the ad. It depicts approximately 320,000 bulbs (unless the image was cropped for the ad), the equivalent of the number of kilowatt hours of electricity wasted in the US every minute from inefficient residential electricity. It delivers its message about the need for change in how we use energy very effectively.

On one hand, the ad exposes Jordan's work (and viewpoint) to a much wider audience than might normally see it in a gallery or museum. Many, many more people will see the picture as a result of this ad (thousands pass through this particular waiting room each day, and it is likely plastered in many other waiting rooms just like it in other cities), some of whom might be struck enough by the image to track down who the artists was, indirectly leading to more demand for Jordan's work. If we already owned the work, perhaps it would increase in value or we could secretly feel good about ourselves as people who saw the trend early.

On the other hand, it may be the case that the ad will be more recognized than the image itself. Perhaps people will now visit our home and say, "isn't that from an IBM ad?" (I will wearily nod yes), or maybe I will continually think this myself as I see it each day, forever stuck in an annoying visual rut. Overexposure may dull its potency.

A harsh way to characterize this ad is that it is a sell out. Perhaps a more realistic view is that it is a way to generate some additional revenue for Jordan from work that already exists, and virtually all artists could use some more cash flow. IBM is a solid brand to be associated with, and increased exposure is generally a good thing for an artist early in his career; perhaps the ad will lead to other exciting opportunities for Jordan's work that wouldn't have come along otherwise. All in, such an ad is likely a net positive for Jordan; there is no right answer here, only a recognition that the step from fine art to commerce is a very short one.

Book: Edgar Martins, Topologies

JTF (just the facts): Published in 2008 by Aperture. 136 pages, with 75 color prints. Includes an essay by John Beardsley and an artist conversation with David Campany. (Cover shot at right.)

Comments/Context: As our collector's community grows, it seems more and more opportunities are arising to leverage the distributed knowledge of the crowd in the search for great photography. Based on a recommendation by one of our readers, we picked up this book by Portuguese photographer Edgar Martins, which must have sailed past unnoticed when it was released last year.

For an "emerging" photographer, Martins certainly has a large number of projects going on; this volume is a sampler of sorts, covering five different and wholly distinct series, all taken in a prolific three year time period. The common threads that appear to connect these disparate projects lie below the surface a bit: the use of a large format camera, a tendency to strip down the compositions to elemental forms, and an undercurrent of chance and drama that injects a sense of excitement.

The 2005 series Hidden focuses on the patterns made by roadside sound barriers. The rectangular blocks of color, repeated and mixed together, are displayed in a pared down, Minimalist landscape of unmarked road and and clear blue sky, recalling the sculptured boxes of Donald Judd and the color charts of Gerhard Richter.

The images from The Rehearsal of Space (2005 and 2006) chronicle the active devastation of Portuguese wild fires. While the scenes of leaping flames have an inherent theatricality, I actually prefer the landscapes which are engulfed in timeless smoke, the lingering haze adding mystery and uncertainty to what would otherwise be relatively straightforward forest studies.

The 2006 series Approaches finds Martins out on airport tarmacs and taxiways, taking pictures both during the day and in the depths of night. I especially liked the images which pick up the painted lines and patterns in bright white and yellow on the runways (reminiscent in some ways of Walker Evans' late Polaroids of arrows and other street markings). Truth be told, I'd like to see a whole book of these particular works, especially those that highlight the geometric and graphic qualities of the paint against the deep black background; a very cool project indeed, and one worth further exploration in this collector's opinion.

The series Landscapes Beyond, The Burden of Proof (2006 and 2007) captures the rugged terrain of Iceland. These landscapes have an "Olafur Eliasson meets Timothy O'Sullivan" feel, the harsh, rocky land and ice photographed with a very 19th century formalist approach to composition.

My favorite images from this volume come from the series The Accidental Theorist (2005-2007). In this project, Martins take long exposure night pictures of deserted beaches, each image a pairing of the deep rich black of the night sky with the soft tactile indentations of the sand, punctuated by seemingly random objects (a girl with balloons, an umbrella, trash bins, stacks of chaises, and an array of strange poles that reminded me of Walter De Maria's Lightning Field, among many others). The careful bisection of the picture frame and the overall Minimalist approach recall Hiroshi Sugimoto's night seascapes (with a side order of Harry Callahan's Cape Cod beach pictures), but these images have a sprinkle of serendipity that makes them less overtly meditative and more pleasantly puzzling.

Overall, this book is evidence that Martins is clearly an accomplished photographer early in his career, who is pursuing his craft with intellectual rigor and abundant activity.

Collector's POV: Edgar Martins is represented in New York by Betty Cunningham Gallery (here) and in Los Angeles by Kopeikin Gallery (here). The prints are made in two sizes (not sure of the exact dimensions), in editions of less than 10, with prices starting at $5000. There is no secondary market for Martins' work at this point, so interested collectors should follow up with one of the retail galleries directly.

Transit Hub:

• Artist site (here)
• Saatchi Online (here)
• More reviews: Shoot! The Blog (here), Conscientious (here)
• Interview: ARTmostfierce (here)