r mes Case i c t u r e Since the mid-1970s, James Casebere has photographed tabletop-slzed models that he constructs with styrofoam, paper and plaster. The precise and complex models are based on real and imagined landscapes and architecture rang- ing from the Eastern Pennsylvania State Penitentiary to Jefferson's Monticello and the Nevisian Underground. In the artist's studio, the models are dramatically lit, sometimes painted, deliberately photographed from various points of view, and then abandoned. The photographs are Casebere's representation of his own construction, a re-construction and re-presentation of the artist's own rendering. Consequently, we are farther removed from any reference to reality than we might presume. The illusion is so alluring. Casebere's most recent photographs are enlarged to such an extent as to make the structures appear life size. Standing before them it is as if we can step into the space. The notion that these may be actual places seems plausible, as "concrete" as the walls of a prison cell. As with any illusory image, the internal structure of Casebere s images supports, props up if you will, the intangible qualities that seem so palpable at first glance. The studio lamplight appears ethereal through the crafted windows. Where light strikes a floor or reflects off water, it affirms a corporeal presence, as if this water were flowing through centuries old architecture. The austere beauty is spectacular in and of itself - so seductive that the observer may be unwilling to expose it, wanting to believe that it could be real. Ironically, this infatuation distances the observer, preventing him or her from recognizing any facade. Is this not cinematic? While there is no apparent correlation to any scripted narrative, the images do seem to allude to a past, present and future. An anxious observer imagines a human story within the abandoned spaces. The lack of any human presence leads us to anticipate an arrival or wonder what has happened here. To fur- ther compound this effect, these are not necessarily abstract, nameless spaces. Instead, they appear to be actual places and, for that matter, places of vast historical or cultural significance. There is human drama embedded in these places. How does one reconcile this with the fact that these spaces are fabri- cated? With any knowledge of the purpose these spaces, these institutions, served, how do we reconcile this with the fact that the artist went so far as to precisely simulate something so literally and figuratively substantial? In so many ways, Casebere's work sets the stage for the whole of the exhibition series, offering a compelling look into the connection between the per- ception of reality and the virtual realm of photography. Douglas Bohr, curator Q&A with James Casebere DB - How has film, and cinematography in particular, influenced your work? JO - I am part of the first generation of artists to really grow up with television. While coming of age with conceptual art in the mid-70s I was also influenced by pop culture and vernacular architecture. I wanted to make art that appealed to a wider audience - that entertained, cajoled and seduced, much like TV and the movies. Jean Luc Godard was the critical voice in one ear and Spielberg the bad seed in the other. When it comes to cinematography, I can only really mention directors like Eisenstein, Hitchcock, John Ford, Howard Hawks, Douglas SIrk, and Nicholas Ray, etc. In as much as I am part of the "Pictures" generation or the group of photo- based artists that gathered around Artists Space and Metro Pictures Gallery In the late seventies and early eighties, people like Cindy Sherman, Richard Prince, Laurie Simmons, etc.. It was part of my goal to integrate the way film, and I sup- pose cinematography had wormed its way into our collective visual language as a culture. I wanted to bring that awareness to bear on my interest in architecture. 03 04 design, sculpture, and even painting. Many of akin to the quantity of birds gathering ominously about town. In the prison work I got away from film to the best cinematographers have no doubt bor- think more about the basics of picture making and the depiction of space and light in a more modernist rowed from the language of painting. One sense. More recently I added color, texture, movement, and reflection, all of which contribute to the major affinity I have with cinemato-graphers is sense of realism, but might also suggest film. This is done without quoting from particular movies like the concern with light. Light and shadow are I did before. the raw materials for both of us. It would be a serious omission not to mention this concern. There are many times I have looked to film (as DB - The act of fabricating architectural models and dramatically lighting them in order to photograph well as painting, as in Rembrandt, Vermeer. (film) them is like stage or set design. Does the fact that your images are primarily about space - par- Caravaggio, Hopper) with an interest in the way ticularly open, architectonic space, where there is no human drama let alone presence - imply a stage the filmmaker, or the cinematographer uses of sorts? light: Spielberg, of course in such an emotional way; Kubrick in "Barry Lyndon," for example: JC - I think so. The stage designer is trying to do the same thing as I am, in trying to create a sense of and Hawks in "Only Angels Have Wings" place simply, with as few elements as possible. Again, in the late 70's I produced a series of ten images where the use of fog is amazing. I would also that worked together and were really about editing. I made a storyboard, sketching out each image mention the dramatic shadows of Orson ahead of time and then, using cut paper and cardboard, built simple models for each sketch. There was Welles. And then, there are more self-con- a narrative movement throughout the group, i also made a short pixilated film and another film loop scious examples, as with Francis Ford installation. However, the point is that after this work 1 wanted to concentrate on a single autonomous Coppola's "Rumble Fish." Unfortunately, I am image, getting everything into it, imply action, story, etc. I never really had any actors. The idea was still a victim of the "auteur" theory of film and always to get the viewer to enter the image, somehow, to be the actor. In order to do that I reduce the have rarely separated the cinematographer image to its basics, to generic forms, or archetypal forms. In some respects Beckett was the model for from the director, and been able to give credit this kind of anonymity. His characters were the stripped down "everyman" that I sought to build con- where credit is due by naming the cameraman temporary images up around. as well. DB - How does the scale or size of the image affect this idea of a stage? DB - Are your images, or any specific series of images, directly influenced by a specific style of JC - I think of the scale as being about the space of exhibition. It's about human scale, about being able cinematography or filmmaking? to enter the space. "It's about your knees as well as your head" as a viewer (Joe McKay, interactive video, computer artist). I have tried to deal with the space of the gallery and the way the viewer moves JC - "Desert House with Cactus" was supposed through that space rather than mimicking film, opera, theater, etc. At one point my work began to get to be about the sense of exile, but when I less narrative and more iconic. Through water - its movement and reflection - a kind of narrative is re- added the guard tower it really snapped into introduced. Movement implies time. Sometimes I will now shoot more than one perspective of the same place. I was thinking of "Hogan's Heroes." model and show the different works in the same space in an attempt to move the viewer through the "Boats" was partly based on Hitchcock's space of the gallery, and move them through the space of the images at the same time. "Lifeboat." "Covered Wagons" was based on a scene from "Red River." In a lot of my earlier DB - You have stated that it is essential that the fact that these images are photographs of fabricated black and white photos there is a Hopper-like models be revealed within the image itself - that the seams and such are apparent. Why? feeling akin to film noir - alone in the big city. The whole series of Western images JC - My attitude about that has changed over time. I used to believe exactly were about the Hollywood version what you described. With the prison interiors it became more ambiguous. of the west not as history, but as Sometimes when I look at them they look like cartoons, and sometimes they're myth. When I was making "Street more convincing. Sometimes letting the seams and rough edges show makes with Pots," I was thinking about them at first glance look more real. I like that confusion - the ambiguity. At the Hitchcock's "The Birds." My idea moment I'm more interested in that area between the recognition of something was to keep adding pots until they as real, and the eventual suspicion that it's not. Give me the illusion first, and had a collective subliminal effect let me keep it if I can. DB - The ethereal quality of light in images such as "Empty Room," "Asylum" and "Arcade" from the prison series, lends an otherworldly sense to the scene. Could you comment on the role beauty plays in your worl^? , JC ■ Part of what i am trying to do now is give pleasure. With the eadier work there was a construc- tivist ethic at work that required that the way it s made be made evident. Seeing how it's made allows for critical distance. Hiding that or concealing that within the sense of wonder is perhaps more like what I am trying to do now. Truly great art is always breathtaking, no matter how complex, no matter how sophisticated, no matter how thoughtful, or entertaining. Great art should grab you in the solar plexus. It should take one's breath away. Of course, a simple idea can be beautiful in itself. However, critical distance can also sometimes mitigate against this. It took me a long time to accept this idea. Visual art can be thoughtful. Indeed it should be both thoughtful and beautiful at the same time. (See Edmund Burke.) This is really about the connection between body and mind, or both sense and intel- lect. ' , DB - The fact that we can sense that the architecture may not be "real" distances us from the image and we become aware of the fact that we are yet another step removed from "reality." In terms of Its effect on the observer, what do you think it means to have the photographic image so far removed from a source, be it your imagination or the artist's observation of an actual place, so much so that the observer can sense that the model somehow mediates between the artist's original vision and the representation of that vision? JC - The final image is not exactly a representation of my original vision. It takes on a life of its own in the process of its making. If I'm happy with it in the end it's because of what it's become in the process, not because it approximates what I set out to produce originally. If it works really well, then it's usually a big surprise. On the other hand, I never intended to distance the viewer from reality. There is no objective reality that is a reference for this work. To borrow a term from Gregory Bateson, I like to think of these images as being about the "Interaction of Ideas." DB - You deliberately create a sense that there are multiple levels of interpretation between the observer and the original source throughout the process of making the images. I can't help but think of the notion of time. Is this a way that time is somehow a constructive element in a still image? How do you think of time in regard to your pictures? JC - Inevitably, the subject is in part the time it takes to build the model. In the prison images, the time making the model almost ritualistically mimics the time of internment. On the positive side, the solitude implied also sug- gests the passage of time as a desirable experience. The flooded w^orks are perhaps more about the passage of historic time than about the loss of his- toric memory. From another angle, in as much as the models are very frag- ile and temporary things, i suppose the loss or destruction of the places 03 Flooded Hallway 1998-1999 depicted doubly emphasizes their transitory nature. 05 06 Sources/Suggested Reading ' ■ ' ■.. ' ■ Crary, Jonathan. Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity In the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1990. Crary, Jonathan. "Dr. Mabuse and Mr. Edison." In Ha// of Mirrors: Art and Film since 1945, pp. 262-79. Los Angeles: Monacelli Press and The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, 1996. The publication accompanied the exhibi- tion "Hall of Mirrors: Art and Film since 1945," organized by Kerry Brougher and presented at The Museum of Contemporary Art. Los Angeles. Chang. Chris. "Grand Illusion." In James Casebere: The Spatial Uncanny pp. 21-30. New York: Charta and Sean Kelly Gallery, New York, 2001. Acknowledgements I would like to thank all the lenders to the exhi bition, particularly Sean Kelly Gallery, New York; Katie Southard, SECCA curatorial assis tant, Bryan Ellis for his exacting design: and all the SECCA staff and installation crew. I'd espe daily like to thank Cecile Panzieri, director of Sean Kelly Gallery, and Debra Vilen. registrar and assistant to James Casebere at Sean Kelly Gallery for their support and generosity throughout the organization of the exhibition Lastly, my deepest gratitude goes to James Casebere whose provocative images have always intrigued and inspired me. 07 Tunnels 1996 08 Parlor 2001 09 Four Flooded Arches from Right with Fog 1999 (detail) mm