The Tourist

The Tourist, Santa Monica Pier (2010), 35 mm film

I received an interesting commentary from a friend last night about the photography section I recently added to my website. It was mostly good feedback, until he got to the one photograph that baffled him so much he had to ask me why the hell I decided to include it in my online portfolio. He was very honest about his dislike for this photograph (above). Too mundane and ordinary, he said. A photograph he could have easily taken himself. It was pretty obvious that this picture rattled him a bit--especially since my other photographs are, apparently, beautiful.

It was a brief yet very important conversation to be had. Like most artists, I really enjoy conversations of this nature with fellow artists and friends about my work. The more questioning, inquisitive and challenging, the better. Brutal honesty never hurts. Diverse perspectives is my bread and butter. As long as it is coming from a genuine place that seeks to nurture my artistic strides, and not to hammer me down for no good reason at all. Though I could easily handle the latter--I've grown thick enough skin to yield to outrageously negative criticism like a memory foam mattress. But it just seems unnecessary at this point.

The thing about this photo which I found hard to explain to my friend (English isn't his first language either, so double challenge) is that I really do love it. I suppose in a similar fashion to the love and adoration dog owners have towards some of the most grotesque looking and yappiest canine companions of the world. How the hell could they love such a monster? Well, they just do, ok? Ugly is the new Cute. Likewise, I feel a certain personal connection to this one photograph. And I'm pretty sure that "ugly" and "mundane" has a lot to do with this intimacy.

The moment slightly before the click of the shutter and the realization of the photograph plays an important role too. I saw this woman and overheard her having a conversation with her little girl. They had British accents (cockney ones, not the Queen's), and were obviously tourists enjoying a day out at Santa Monica Pier--which happens to be one of the filthiest beaches in the LA county. Popular tourist destinations in wonderfully kitsch areas like Santa Monica Pier interest me. The mesh of people that congregate in these areas brings to life an otherwise depressing location.

The idea of kitsch in itself is of interest to me. That this cockney family decided to take a holiday in Santa Monica Pier, which resembles Coney Island in many ways, made the photo all the more perfect and delightfully stereotypical. The resulting image is a peephole into the lives of ordinary people and a commentary on how they choose to spend their leisure time. It is exactly mundane. And yes, anyone could have taken this photo. Hell, most people take way better photographs than I do and they don't go around calling themselves artists. But that's not the point now is it?

Take William Eggleston's work for example. One of my favorite (and the rest of the world's) photographers who works mostly in color film. Now granted, most of his images are arresting and have the alchemical power to turn ugly into beautiful. But he does have a collection of photographs that investigates the everyday lives of ordinary people, places and events. And some of them don't convey beauty in conventional ways either, and sews together an entirely different narrative altogether.

I suppose what I'm trying to do here is explain the motivation behind my photograph; why I was propelled to take the woman's picture and why it means a little more to me than a beautiful landscape shot of a coastline. Meaning is everything. And sometimes, a disconnection, like the one experienced by my friend who was thrown back by this photo in my otherwise pretty repertoire , is what makes the photograph unique; and possibly a little daring.

William Eggleston, 'Paris' (2006-2008) C-print

William Eggleston, 'Troubled Waters' (1980) Dye Transfer