In case you didn't know, the Vancouver Art Gallery's admission by donation night's been moved to tuesdays (formerly thursdays). So naturally, on the only tuesday night that I am free this year I went down with Joey and Erica-May. I was particularly excited to go because the main exhibit was Fred Herzog. He's a local photographer that's been taking pictures of downtown Vancouver since the 50's. From what I read, I gather that he did most of his work in Kodakchrome -which captures a much higher spectrum of colour than the traditional film stocks of the past-; as a result, the massive prints are really vibrant and don't have the dated looks of my dad's photos from the 70's. Were it not for the jaunty signs and chrome cars of cultural difference, you could be looking at a photo that was taken this morning.
Walking from photo to photo, a couple of things really struck me:
Where the hell did all the colours go. We've forgone the lively palettes of hand painted wooden signs and buttressed neon signage for the muted quiet of steel and glass? What the hell? When in the last fifty years did we decide that we wanted to look like an Orwell novel? And more importantly why?
Everyone looked so cool for the camera in the 50's. Miscellaneous passerbys are all lounged out effortlessly and exuding far more attitude than the 21st century yaletowner as he runs despondedly to the nearest chain store. And the hats! Every guy on the street is dapped out in his finery. Everyday is a sunday.
What made me the happiest was just being to spot some little token in each picture: a building, a street sign, the tiling on a storefront; that gave away to me the location of the photo as a placed that I would have walked through. I spent a lot of time walking through the city, especially in my worst years, and for awhile I did feel that it was "my only friend". Things have changed and are changing. Buildings go from bustling to abandoned, to a hole in the ground and then spring back up again; and each time I long for what came before. It's cool to see the city given at least a moment of permanence within these photographs.
I did hear that I passed up the chance to see either Apples in Stereo or Badly Drawn Boy tonight. I can't say I mind to much; riding home over Cambie Bridge I looked out the window at the floating lights of all the towers and realized that I'm still pretty giddy: a country boy living in the big city.
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