Positive Exposure

by Christy Wood

photo courtesy of David Plowden

Through October 12, you can find the exhibit "American View: The Photographs of David Plowden" on the second floor of the Bayly Art Museum.

If, as an insurgent college student, you come from the photography class that exposes social injustice and crucifies artistic renditions of the Rotunda, the idea of a photographic genre that embraces American nostalgia may not draw you into a gallery.

I think this exhibit may surprise you. It surprised nine-year-old Siobhan Dower who, after viewing the exhibition, wrote in the Bayly guest book: "Dear David, at first I wasn't going to look at your photographs but I'm glad I did because they are really cool! I like what you said and I really think you stand out."

It is hard to put a finger on exactly what it is about Plowden's work that stands out. The essence of time and place is subtle. Plowden's camera captures that one last glance that helps you hold onto a place you know you will never see again. The pictures range from churches to trains to steel mills, all momentarily undisturbed. It is a collection of black and white memories that have not faded with time but have kept their original sparkle and crisp edge. Plowden has two reasons for taking pictures in black and white. He says that when choosing his subject, he does not see in color. Try to imagine looking at a green door on a white church but seeing the sharp detail of a rusting door on a splintered church. Since he is preserving disappearing landscapes, Plowden's second reason is logical -- black and white prints do not fade as quickly as color prints do.

When Plowden talks about his work he doesn't explain it so much as offer insight into what he is presenting. There is no attempt to influence the viewer with titles that reveal anything more than subject, town, and state. "Carl Lee's Barber Shop, Columbus Junction, Iowa," (1984) is just that -- a barber shop in Iowa. But if you look closely you will notice two footprints worn into the checkered tile floor under the seat by the radio. Though the shop has no customers, years of patronage have left their mark by the best seat in the house. The photograph is reminiscent of the day when a local barber shop was the hub of a town's social interaction. The essence of the place is what Plowden has captured on film.

"Carla Sleeper, Hartman School, South Haven, Michigan," (1992) is the photograph of a young girl in a classroom staring intently into the camera. The subject, light, and composition look spontaneous. It actually took three rolls of film to capture this one image, but when Plowden gave a print to the girl's parents, they remarked that they never knew she was so beautiful. Again, Plowden's picture is more than just the image in the camera's sight.

A woman listening to Plowden speak remarked that everyone drives so fast now that there is no time to stop and look around, but these pictures make us stop and notice. "La Crosse, Wisconsin" (1973) is a scene you might drive by everyday on your way to work without really looking at it. It is a casino, very low profile, with metered parking in the front. If you win the jackpot, you can keep feeding the meter. The sign in the window reads "lousy service," and you wonder if it is small town honesty or a little reverse psychology. The picture "Shopping Center -- Easter Sunday, Beaver Dam, Wisconsin" is a scene you often drive past as you hurry to park your car and get your groceries. This photograph makes you stop and look at the shopping cart on the sidewalk and the towering wall of bricks. Is it just a shopping cart beside a suburban mall, or is the emphasis rather on the venerable date on which Plowden photographed a white painted parking lot arrow pointing directly to a solid brick wall?

Plowden's visual statements are not simply visual accounts of our escaping past. In the exhibition there is a wall of photographs of vast expanses of machinery taken in an undisclosed steel mill. These operations are slowly closing across America and in documenting their demise, he is silently commenting on the future of the workers, their hellish present, and the economic progression of our nation.

Above one group of photographs is a placard with a quote from the artist that I believe best defines his mission: "I have been beset with a sense of urgency to record those parts of our heritage which seem to be receding as quickly as the view from a speeding train. I fear we are eradicating the evidence of our past accomplishments so quickly that in time we may well lose a sense of who we are."

Now go see the David Plowden exhibit. Go try to uncover his subtle ironies and silent commentaries for yourself. Or listen to Siobhan and just enjoy some "really cool" pictures.