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Retrospective Two
Published as a companion book to the artist's Twenty Year Retrospective, Michael Retrospective Two presents an overview of Kenna's landscape photographs made between 1994 and 2004. Michael Kenna is arguably the most influential landscape photographer of his generation. The subject of over 20 books and hundreds of solo exhibitions throughout Asia, Australia, Europe and the United States, Michael Kenna often works at dawn or during the night. He concentrates primarily on the interaction between the ephemeral atmospheric conditions of the natural landscape, and human-made structures and sculptural mass. Kenna's exquisitely crafted prints are included in such permanent museum collections as The National Gallery, Washington, D.C.; The Museum of Decorative Arts, Prague; and The Victoria and Albert Museum, London. In 2001, Michael Kenna was made a Chevalier in the Order of Arts and Letters by the Ministry of Culture in France. Born in Widnes, England in 1953, he currently lives in the USA. The introduction Inventing Peace by Anne W. Tucker explores Kenna s relationship to contemporary photographic ideas.
- GenresPhotographyArt
Hardcover
First published January 31, 2004
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July 30, 2008
Since today marks a special occasion (this is my 100th review on Goodreads), I thought I'd do something a little different. So instead of giving you an overly long, overly serious review of a book, I'm going to present you with some gorgeous art and tell you how I came to be in the possession of that art. And yes, it's a long story (even longer than my average review, natch), and it's utterly self-indulgent, but I hope it's somewhat worth reading, anyway.
Just over a year and a half ago, I flew first to Singapore, then to Australia for a three-month holiday. Due to circumstances I won't go into here, the trip came a bit earlier than I'd expected, meaning I didn't have as much time saving up for it as I would have liked. To make matters worse, I then went on a mad book- and clothes-buying spree in Singapore (a great place to go shopping). And just when I had forgiven myself for that, my father (who was keeping an eye on my financial situation) informed me that Her Majesty's Inland Revenue Service had just sent me a huge and rather unexpected bill which had to be paid at once. So after just a few days in Sydney, I came to the conclusion that my financial situation was bad and that I was going to have to live extremely frugally if I wanted to be able to stay in Australia for more than a couple of weeks.
So the day after I spoke to my father, I decided to be frugal. To save a few dollars, I largely skipped breakfast. To save a few more dollars' bus fare, I walked all the way from my hostel in Glebe to the sights in the Central Business District, which anyone who is familiar with Sydney will tell you is madness (particularly since the buses are really quite cheap). I spent my morning in the Royal Botanic Gardens (admission free), had the cheapest lunch I could find, and spent my afternoon at the Art Gallery of New South Wales (admission free), where I skipped the special Aboriginal art exhibition (even though it looked really interesting) because it cost seven dollars. And all the while, I was feeling really good about myself, really virtuous about all the money I was saving.
And then I made a mistake.
I entered the museum shop.
Oh, I was virtuous at first. I only bought two postcards, down from my usual twelve or thirteen (I collect art cards). But when I went to the counter to pay for those cards, my eye alighted on something which quite literally took my breath away: a Michael Kenna photobook, left over from an exhibition held the year before. Now I'm not sure if you know Michael Kenna, but he is in my eyes the greatest landscape photographer in the world. He doesn't go in for originality or irony; he simply focuses on objects with beautiful lines and takes square pictures of them, often long exposures taken at night or in the early morning. I'd seen (and fallen in love with) his work on the Internet, but had never come close to any good prints or reproductions. And here I found myself face to face with an absolutely magnificent book full of magnificently reproduced Michael Kenna photographs, which cost 160 Australian dollars. And 160 Australian dollars might not be as much as 160 US dollars, but still, it was an awful lot of money for a skint girl like myself.
I asked the lady behind the counter if I could see the book. She gave it to me, and for the next five minutes or so, I carefully turned the heavy pages, lost to the rest of the world. I knew I wanted to have the book, but I also knew I couldn't afford it, so in the end, I handed it back to the lady, literally aching inside at having to give up something so beautiful for so mundane a reason as a lack of funds. I walked out of the shop, and then walked straight back in, wanting to see the rest of the photos. So I asked the lady behind the counter if I could see the book again. She obliged, though not in a very friendly manner; by this time she probably had me pegged as a backpacker who was unlikely to buy a big, fat, heavy and expensive book. I then stood at the counter weighing the book against a trip I was hoping to make. I decided the trip was more important (after all, I had come to Australia to see the country, not to buy photography books), so after a few more minutes' agonised browsing, I walked out of the shop again, only to decide five minutes later that I really did want the book (damn it!), and that I was going to buy it because hey, it had been my birthday two days earlier and I deserved a present. So I walked back into the shop, got out my credit card, stammered apologies to my bank account and bought the book from the same lady who had helped me before, who obviously thought I was quite out of my mind.
And did I then go and find myself a nice place to savour my purchase? Hell, no. I went straight to the post office, because my rucksack was quite ridiculously heavy enough as it was (I had three cameras and a tripod with me, plus all that stuff I had bought in Singapore) and I honestly couldn't see myself lugging around two kilos' worth of art for the next ten weeks. So I bought a large parcel, put the book and a lot of other things into it and shipped it home. And then, incredibly enough, I forgot all about the book.
Two days ago, I finally remembered its existence, and sat down to admire what I had bought. And just like in the museum, I was transported by the beauty of the images. Michael Kenna's photos are very stark and empty, but so well composed and so gorgeously exposed that they're really quite mind-bogglingly beautiful. They're melancholy, nostalgic and full of trees, which I love as there is nothing I like quite so much as a good, photogenic tree in the right setting and the right light. (No, not even Beethoven and Jane Austen compare. I'm all about trees.)
And boy, does my book do Kenna's work justice. There honestly isn't a page in the book that I wouldn't like to rip out and hang on my wall. But I won't. I'll keep my book intact. I'll just have to find myself a real print somewhere to put on my wall. Or two.
You can see images from the book I book I bought here, but they're small and don't really do the originals justice. A collection of larger images (from other books as well as mine) can be found here. The scans are a bit dark and low-res, and don't look quite as impressive as they do in my book, but still, you'll get the idea. Seriously, scroll down. It's good stuff.
And this is Michael Kenna on YouTube...
Poetry, I say. Poetry .
And for those of you who wish to know how the holiday story ended, a few days after buying the book I called my parents and asked them for a substantial loan so that I could stay in Australia a bit longer and travel on a slightly less tight budget. To my ever-lasting gratitude, they said yes. I then met a nice Aussie, and the rest, as they say, is history. I'm still paying off my debt to my parents, but I'm moving to Australia in a few months to be with my boyfriend. Yep, it was quite a holiday.
Just over a year and a half ago, I flew first to Singapore, then to Australia for a three-month holiday. Due to circumstances I won't go into here, the trip came a bit earlier than I'd expected, meaning I didn't have as much time saving up for it as I would have liked. To make matters worse, I then went on a mad book- and clothes-buying spree in Singapore (a great place to go shopping). And just when I had forgiven myself for that, my father (who was keeping an eye on my financial situation) informed me that Her Majesty's Inland Revenue Service had just sent me a huge and rather unexpected bill which had to be paid at once. So after just a few days in Sydney, I came to the conclusion that my financial situation was bad and that I was going to have to live extremely frugally if I wanted to be able to stay in Australia for more than a couple of weeks.
So the day after I spoke to my father, I decided to be frugal. To save a few dollars, I largely skipped breakfast. To save a few more dollars' bus fare, I walked all the way from my hostel in Glebe to the sights in the Central Business District, which anyone who is familiar with Sydney will tell you is madness (particularly since the buses are really quite cheap). I spent my morning in the Royal Botanic Gardens (admission free), had the cheapest lunch I could find, and spent my afternoon at the Art Gallery of New South Wales (admission free), where I skipped the special Aboriginal art exhibition (even though it looked really interesting) because it cost seven dollars. And all the while, I was feeling really good about myself, really virtuous about all the money I was saving.
And then I made a mistake.
I entered the museum shop.
Oh, I was virtuous at first. I only bought two postcards, down from my usual twelve or thirteen (I collect art cards). But when I went to the counter to pay for those cards, my eye alighted on something which quite literally took my breath away: a Michael Kenna photobook, left over from an exhibition held the year before. Now I'm not sure if you know Michael Kenna, but he is in my eyes the greatest landscape photographer in the world. He doesn't go in for originality or irony; he simply focuses on objects with beautiful lines and takes square pictures of them, often long exposures taken at night or in the early morning. I'd seen (and fallen in love with) his work on the Internet, but had never come close to any good prints or reproductions. And here I found myself face to face with an absolutely magnificent book full of magnificently reproduced Michael Kenna photographs, which cost 160 Australian dollars. And 160 Australian dollars might not be as much as 160 US dollars, but still, it was an awful lot of money for a skint girl like myself.
I asked the lady behind the counter if I could see the book. She gave it to me, and for the next five minutes or so, I carefully turned the heavy pages, lost to the rest of the world. I knew I wanted to have the book, but I also knew I couldn't afford it, so in the end, I handed it back to the lady, literally aching inside at having to give up something so beautiful for so mundane a reason as a lack of funds. I walked out of the shop, and then walked straight back in, wanting to see the rest of the photos. So I asked the lady behind the counter if I could see the book again. She obliged, though not in a very friendly manner; by this time she probably had me pegged as a backpacker who was unlikely to buy a big, fat, heavy and expensive book. I then stood at the counter weighing the book against a trip I was hoping to make. I decided the trip was more important (after all, I had come to Australia to see the country, not to buy photography books), so after a few more minutes' agonised browsing, I walked out of the shop again, only to decide five minutes later that I really did want the book (damn it!), and that I was going to buy it because hey, it had been my birthday two days earlier and I deserved a present. So I walked back into the shop, got out my credit card, stammered apologies to my bank account and bought the book from the same lady who had helped me before, who obviously thought I was quite out of my mind.
And did I then go and find myself a nice place to savour my purchase? Hell, no. I went straight to the post office, because my rucksack was quite ridiculously heavy enough as it was (I had three cameras and a tripod with me, plus all that stuff I had bought in Singapore) and I honestly couldn't see myself lugging around two kilos' worth of art for the next ten weeks. So I bought a large parcel, put the book and a lot of other things into it and shipped it home. And then, incredibly enough, I forgot all about the book.
Two days ago, I finally remembered its existence, and sat down to admire what I had bought. And just like in the museum, I was transported by the beauty of the images. Michael Kenna's photos are very stark and empty, but so well composed and so gorgeously exposed that they're really quite mind-bogglingly beautiful. They're melancholy, nostalgic and full of trees, which I love as there is nothing I like quite so much as a good, photogenic tree in the right setting and the right light. (No, not even Beethoven and Jane Austen compare. I'm all about trees.)
And boy, does my book do Kenna's work justice. There honestly isn't a page in the book that I wouldn't like to rip out and hang on my wall. But I won't. I'll keep my book intact. I'll just have to find myself a real print somewhere to put on my wall. Or two.
You can see images from the book I book I bought here, but they're small and don't really do the originals justice. A collection of larger images (from other books as well as mine) can be found here. The scans are a bit dark and low-res, and don't look quite as impressive as they do in my book, but still, you'll get the idea. Seriously, scroll down. It's good stuff.
And this is Michael Kenna on YouTube...
Poetry, I say. Poetry .
And for those of you who wish to know how the holiday story ended, a few days after buying the book I called my parents and asked them for a substantial loan so that I could stay in Australia a bit longer and travel on a slightly less tight budget. To my ever-lasting gratitude, they said yes. I then met a nice Aussie, and the rest, as they say, is history. I'm still paying off my debt to my parents, but I'm moving to Australia in a few months to be with my boyfriend. Yep, it was quite a holiday.
November 28, 2023
A stunning array of images with a dreamlike feel to them.
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