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Posted by finkployd in
Info
Wednesday, March 30. 2005
Catherine Merdy - French Photographer
Exhibition of "2" @ Zico House in Sanayah
abstract: Visiting artist's exhibition offers glimpse of urban rhythms of life in Paris, while her newer photos capture a mood of uncertainty in Lebanon. -dailystar
Through April 5, 2005
For more information, call +961 3 801688.
For more samples of Catherine's work go to:
Catherine Merdy Photography Samples
by Kaelen Wilson-Goldie
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
French photographer delves into intensity of Beirut
BEIRUT: French photographer Catherine Merdy knew she'd be in Beirut this month. She knew she'd be having a show of her work at Zico House on Spears Street, in an old building a block from the Sanayah Garden. She'd arranged the dates, booked a flight and selected scores of pictures - all lush, colorful images capturing the urban rhythms of daily life in Paris and Brussels. She'd paired them in twos and printed them small for easy travel. Furthermore, Merdy knew, during her one-month residency here, she'd be creating a new body of work based on Beirut. It's her thing, her signature, this tracing of a city's movements and textures in photographs. So she packed her bags, slipped a camera into her carry-on and took off.
What she didn't know - what she couldn't have planned for or predicted - is that she'd be landing in Beirut at such a volatile time.
"When I heard what had happened, I was afraid," Merdy admits. Lebanon's former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri had been killed in a massive explosion that ripped through Beirut's seaside hotel district. Popular protests had brought down the government of his successor, Prime Minister-designate Omar Karami. Merdy arrived as Hizbullah and its allies were preparing a counterdemonstration on Riad al-Solh Square.
This seemed to be no time for an artist's anonymous observation of a foreign city's quotidian routine. Beirut's intensity - already palpable under normal circumstances - had been ratcheted up several notches by political crisis, economic destabilization and psychological anxiety. In terms of an emotional atmosphere that could be sensed, the mood had bottomed at grief, peaked at euphoria and lurched at extreme paranoia and jaded cynicism somewhere in between. In terms of a physical environment that could be seen, the streets had flooded with pedestrians who sported newly branded revolutionary signs and slogans and the walls had welcomed a sudden rush of graffiti that bespoke a total shattering of taboos.
"I've come for a strange period in Beirut and in Lebanon," says Merdy in low toned, heavily accented English. "At first I was thinking it was not a good idea to come in this period, but now I think it was a good idea, because at first I didn't know much about Lebanese people and now I've come to understand a lot. Now I am not afraid."
Merdy, who was born in Brittany, studied cinema at the Ecole Nationale Louis-Lumiere. She has been based in Paris for 20 years, spending much of her time there working in film, operating a camera and doing production.
Five years ago, she decided she wanted to return to photography, something she'd loved as a kid, when William Klein and Henri Cartier-Bresson were her heroes. But she realized she'd forgotten how to take pictures. She had lost all sense of technique. So she began messing around with toy cameras - cheap, low-tech, often made out of plastic - such as the Lomo LCA, Lubitel and Holga.
"The Lomo," wrote Artforum's Andrew Solomon in 1994, "is a Russian instamatic of dubious quality that takes marginally distorted photos ... It is a totally authentic product of a society in which industrial design stalled under Stalin."
The Lomo was essentially a Soviet knock-off of a Japanese mini-camera. Its popularity faded in the 1980s as Communism fell and it seems relegated to gather dust and grow obsolete. But then in the mid-1990s a group of students in Vienna established the Lomographic Society, an organization whose aim is "to study and document the world's surface by taking millions of snapshots of it." Simultaneous Lomographic exhibitions were held in New York and Moscow soon after.
Suddenly the Lomo became a lifestyle staple and a hipper-than-thou subculture, replete with cheeky phrases like "Lomo on." Among the "10 Golden Rules of Lomography" are "Don't think," "Be fast" and "Shoot from the hip." (There is a Lomographic Society HQ in Dubai at the hipster boutique Five Green.)
If all this sounds a bit cultish, rest assured that Merdy's approach is more measured and pensive. She likes using the Lomo because it means she doesn't have to lug around a lot of gear, such as multiple lenses, filters and flashes. It also means her subjects are less intimidated. The Lomo is roughly the size of one's hand. "I use this camera by choice," she says. "I don't want to have a lot of equipment. And people are not afraid of it."
There may be times when Merdy takes a hundred shots a day, but the snapping of pictures is only the first part of her process. The second part involves printing and matching one image with another, making associations and suggesting narratives between them.
"When I think I have a lot of pictures," she explains, pausing to find the right verb, "I begin my play." Merdy's exhibition at Zico House is entitled "2," which refers to her overall photographic project since 2000 as well as such notions as love, desire and duplicity. Looking at her paired pictures from Paris, you can sense the cognitive links she makes between images. A photograph of a lip-locked teenage couple, for example, is matched with a picture of snow globes, suggesting innocence, naivete, the fantasy of youth.
Clearly, Merdy has an eye for details and gestures. A number of works at Zico House frame the funny ways people hold their hands, cross their feet and tilt their chins. More than the body, though, it is the surface of the city that interests her.
"I try to find in a city the light and the colors. You know you're eye is going to see the colors in life, so I try to keep those colors, because life is in those colors," she says.
"Sometimes people think I work with a digital camera and that this is all Photoshop but it's not true. I don't like to have pictures immediately. When I take my pictures, sometimes I look through the viewfinder and I know I don't have a good shot. I have it in my mind, maybe it shows up on the print, but if not I still have it in my mind."
Merdy began taking pictures in Beirut as soon as she arrived. Such was the immediacy and intensity of the situation that she decided to show four pairs of pictures she took locally. Each is on view in the gallery at Zico House, printed huge on thick vinyl and hung high above the rest.
Because Merdy's style feels so accidental, so light, with so much left to chance, her work does not seem parasitic. These are not the photographs of an artist out to capitalize on grief or tragedy. Her juxtapositions are not forced. If, as she suggests, her work is about writing stories between pictures, then these narratives remain generously loose and unfinished.
"I wanted to talk about Beirut and Beirut right now is in a strange situation," she says. "Most interesting for me is that people in Beirut are trying to find themselves. Beirut is trying to find itself. I am trying to find myself and my place here. And people I meet are trying to find themselves and their place here. So, you know, it's strange."
One particular image in the show has generated a great deal of interest - a close-up shot of a large red heart followed by a question mark, stenciled onto a sandstone wall near the American University of Beirut by artist and designer Rana Maktabi.
"I was walking in the street and I saw this," explains Merdy, "and I was like, 'Wow, that's cool.' So I took a picture. And then it became sort of like an obsession in my mind, why did this person do this? My work talks about love, desire, and so on, and this, too, I think. So it fit in my work, but I also wanted to know why. When I put it on the flyer, it was like an invitation to this person to come, and she did." -dailystar
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