Last night my works on paper were exhibited with a famous photographer. Well, not famous enough that my dreamworld curator got the right name. As a matter of fact, even my awake self, with the Internet at my disposal could not find the right images. The curator kept saying Muybridge which were definitely not the photographs she was showing me. It is interesting that I can make an animation connection between Muybridge and my ink on matte board drawings this morning. But what the curator was connecting was another aspect of my drawings which is something like the idea of 1000 times spontaneous that mindspriter brought up awhile ago. The curator was showing me black and white photographs of street scenes taken in another century. I kept correcting the curator and suggesting that she meant Weegee and not Muybridge. I was getting her connection, even if I was wrong too. Weegee wasn't the photographer she was showing me either. She was showing me photographs that seemed to be taken "from the hip" and grabbed scenes that appeared to be phenomenal twists of compositional fate. In my waking world I know it wasn't Weegee. It was some photographer who was famous for taking loads of pictures and culling the gems from the accidents. He was sort of a pre-digital camera photographer, not bothering to waste time composing or framing while photographing, but rather had the luxury to shoot a lot a film and pick out the best in the darkroom. This dream photographer of yore took thousands of spontaneous images in order to make a perfect or beautiful one. I woke up thinking that the curator and I were thinking of Cartier-Bresson and his notion of the "decisive moment."
But even his startling croppings of chance-like perfection were not the photographs that the curator was showing me.
Who was the photographer?