vrijdag 20 maart 2015

Views & Reviews To Photograph the Details of a Dark Horse in Low Light Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin Photography


For their solo exhibition To Photograph the Details of a Dark Horse in Low Light, internationally highly acclaimed artists Adam Broomberg (South Africa, 1970) and Oliver Chanarin (Great Britain, 1971) lead viewers through a meandering and disturbing history lesson on the relationship between photography and race.
In response to a commission to 'document' Gabon, Broomberg & Chanarin made several trips to the West African country to photograph a series of rare initiation rituals, using only Kodak film stock that had expired in the 1960's. In the late 1970's the French-Swiss filmdirector Jean Luc Godard famously claimed that this early colour film was inherently 'racist', because it was better at depicting white rather than black skin. Using outdated chemical processes Broomberg & Chanarin salvaged just a single frame from the many rolls of expired film they exposed during these trips. This piece called Ektachrome 78 serves as a starting point for the exhibition.
Another key work in the exhibition is a billboard-sized photograph of Shirley, a 1950's model for the Kodak Eastman Company. Her portrait was distributed to photography labs all over the world as a visual reference for correct exposure. Shirley became a benchmark for 'normal' Caucasian skin. In the eighties, Kodak eventually developed a colour film that was capable of rendering darker tones. The company director described this film as being able to "photograph the details of a dark horse in low light."
Kodak Ektachrome 78 and Shirley are presented alongside works whose parameters were dictated to Broomberg & Chanarin by archival material of their deceased family friend, amateur photographer and anatomist, Dr. Rosenberg. After their trips to West Africa they inherited his darkroom equipment. Some of his notes were about making photographic test strips to determine the correct exposure time. Broomberg & Chanarin followed these instructions to produce a series of oversized darkroom experiments they call Strip Tests.
The connection between photography and racism is further explored in the Polaroid Revolutionary Workers Movement series. In 1970, Caroline Hunter, a young chemist working for the Polaroid Corporation based in the United States, stumbled upon evidence that her company indirectly supported the apartheid regime in South Africa. Polaroid was able to provide their ID-2 camera system to the South African state, to efficiently produce images for the infamous passbooks, which the black population was required to carry with them. The camera included a boost button designed to increase the flash when photographing subjects with dark skin, and two lenses which allowed for the production of a portrait and profile image on the same sheet of film. Hunter and her partner Ken Williams formed the Polaroid Workers Revolutionary Movement, and successfully campaigned for a boycott of the apartheid government. Broomberg & Chanarin's series of Polaroids, made with a renovated Polaroid ID camera, considers the proposition that prejudice might be inherent in the medium of photography itself.
Duo legt racisme in fotografie bloot


Broomberg & ChanarinFotografen Adam Broomberg en Oliver Chanarin zoeken naar het verhaal achter foto’s. In Foam exposeren ze beladen beelden uit Zuid-Afrika, waar Kodak en Polaroid zich schuldig maakten aan racisme.
  • TRACY METZ 
  • 19 MAART 2015

    Fotoserie

    Adam Broomberg en Oliver Chanarin werkten al tien jaar samen voordat ze ontdekten dat ze familie van elkaar zijn. Chanarin: „Ik ben in Engeland geboren en Adam in Zuid-Afrika, maar we stammen uit hetzelfde joodse dorp, een sjtetl in Litouwen.” Het is toeval maar ook weer niet. Het werk en leven van Broomberg (44) en Chanarin (43), achttien jaar een kunstenaarsduo, zit altijd met haken aan de geschiedenis vast. Ze maken zelf foto’s maar ze gebruiken andermans foto’s uit archieven om de verbanden tussen fotografie en macht, tussen beeld en conflict te onderzoeken.
    Hun werk is vertegenwoordigd in een groot aantal museale en particuliere collecties en is met diverse prijzen bekroond. Tot vorige week waren twee van hun projecten te zien in de grote tentoonstelling Conflict, Time, Photography in Tate Modern in Londen; in Foam in Amsterdam gaat vrijdag To Photograph the Details of a Dark Horse in Low Light open, over het verband tussen fotografie en racisme.
    Broomberg en ChanarinTo Photograph the Details of a Dark Horse in Low Light, 20 maart t/m 3 juni in Foam. Inl: foam.org

    „Onze vroegste projecten gingen al over de machtsverhouding tussen de fotograaf en degene die gefotografeerd wordt”, zegt Chanarin. „Voor Trust bijvoorbeeld fotografeerden we mensen terwijl ze op de operatietafel insliepen.” De dood in het klein, noemen ze het. Ook tijdens het project Ghetto, waarvoor ze mensen in besloten omgevingen portretteerden – vluchtelingenkampen, psychiatrische ziekenhuizen – werden ze zich bewust van de onuitgesproken maar loze belofte die het maken van een foto inhoudt. „De ander blijft iets verwachten, blijft geloven dat het maken van de foto iets teweeg zal brengen.”
    Kodak zag zwarten niet als klanten
    Fotograferen en gefotografeerd worden is altijd een transactie, in emotie en in toenemende mate in geld. „Beelden zijn een betaalmiddel, al helemaal in de nieuwsindustrie. Menselijk leed is handelswaar dat kranten en tv inkopen.”
    Hoewel ze in de traditionele documentaire fotografie begonnen, is hun werk gegroeid naar het onderzoeken en analyseren van beelden, ook die van anderen. Als ze nu zelf fotograferen, gaat het niet om wat er op de foto te zien is, maar om het verhaal erachter.
    Die anderen kunnen zowel beroepsfotografen als amateurs zijn, zoals bij de ruim 14.000 beelden van de Troubles in Noord-Ierland. Die zijn bij elkaar gebracht in het archief Belfast Exposed, dat veel is geraadpleegd: door activisten, advocaten, historici, en de mensen op de foto’s. Op veel foto’s staat een gekleurde stip – om die terug te vinden of om een afdruk te laten maken. Broomberg en Chanarin kijken wat er onder die stippen zit. Dat werd People in Trouble Laughing Pushed to the Ground. De stippen leidden naar taferelen uit het dagelijks leven, maar ook naar angstige gezichten en begrafenissen. Mensen die op de foto stonden hadden zichzelf soms weggekrast om onherkenbaar te worden.

    Performance

    Gaandeweg kreeg het werk van het duo steeds meer het karakter van een performance. Een eerste echte performance organiseerden ze bij de opening van de tentoonstelling in Tate Modern. Achttien kadetten van de militaire academie speelden afwisselend een uur lang een onafgebroken drum roll in de museumzalen.
    Een element van een absurde performance, maar ook van gevaar zat er in hun project The Day Nobody Died. In 2008 reisden ze naar Afghanistan om als embedded kunstenaars met de Britse troepen op te trekken in de provincie Helmand. Er vielen die maand de meeste Britse doden van de hele oorlog. Maar in plaats van een camera namen ze een enorme rol fotopapier mee, van 50 meter lang en ruim 76 centimeter breed, in een lichtdichte doos. Het leger moest die doos overal mee naartoe slepen, en de soldaten, die er niets van begrepen, deden dat vloekend. Zo werden ze hoofdpersoon in de klucht die de kunstenaars hadden voorbereid. Steeds als er iets gebeurde wat normaal gesproken aanleiding was geweest tot een nieuwsfeit of een foto – bijvoorbeeld dat er die dag niemand was gesneuveld – stelden de kunstenaars een zeven meter lange strook gedurende 20 seconden bloot aan het zonlicht. Het resultaat is een onbegrijpelijke kleurige veeg, een anti-nieuwsfoto. „Die foto, of althans die strook belicht fotopapier, krijgt betekenis doordat wij er zelf waren, aan het front, en ons net als de militairen aan het gevaar hebben blootgesteld.”
    Het project dat straks in Foam te zien is, To Photograph the Details of a Dark Horse in Low Light, heeft voor Broomberg een sterkere persoonlijke onderstroom omdat het over Zuid-Afrika gaat. „De kleurenfilm van Kodak was ongeschikt om zwarte huid mee te fotograferen. Het bedrijf zag zwarten niet als klanten, blank was de maatstaf.” Dat impliciete racisme is te zien aan de portretten van Shirley’s, die Broomberg en Chanarin verzamelden. De eerste Shirley was een medewerkster van Kodak, later volgden er meer, en hun portretten dienden voor fotolabs als toets voor het correct weergeven van de (blanke) gelaatskleur. Pas in de jaren tachtig kwam Kodak met een film die beter in staat was een zwarte huid weer te geven, in codetaal de ‘details of a dark horse in low light’.

    Flits voor zwarte huid

    Polaroid maakte het veel bonter. In 1970 ontdekte medewerkster Caroline Hunter dat haar bedrijf indirect het apartheidsregime steunde. Polaroid leverde de ID-2-camera waarmee de portretten werden gemaakt voor de gehate passbooks die zwarte Zuid-Afrikanen bij zich moesten dragen als legitimatie. De camera had een knop voor extra flits voor zwarte huid.
    „Hunter en haar vriend richtten de Polaroid Workers Revolutionary Movement op om het bedrijf onder druk te zetten zich uit Zuid-Afrika terug te trekken. Dat lukte nadat een medewerker die ook lid was van het ANC, de druk had opgevoerd.”
    De kunstenaars kochten op internet een oude ID-2-camera en gingen ermee naar Zuid-Afrika. „Alles wat we ermee zouden fotograferen, was beladen met geschiedenis en politiek. In plaats van mensen hebben we daarom planten gefotografeerd met die dubbele lens, de ene dichtbij, de andere van verder weg. Dit project is zowel een liefdesverklaring aan het Zuid-Afrikaanse landschap als een commentaar op de politieke rol van de fotografie, zelfs van het filmmateriaal. Technologie is niet neutraal. De totstandkoming van beelden is net zo beladen als de beelden zelf.”
    Een versie van dit artikel verscheen op donderdag 19 maart 2015 in NRC Handelsblad.
    Op dit artikel rust auteursrecht van NRC Media BV, respectievelijk van de oorspronkelijke auteur.




    zaterdag 14 maart 2015

    Views & Reviews Retrospective William Klein Foam Magazine Photography

    Foam Magazine 「William Klein」atsushisaito.blog


    This issue of Foam Magazine is different from the norm in that it is entirely devoted to the work of a single artist. His career has already spanned more than sixty years and during that time he has worked as a painter, photographer, filmmaker and designer. In all these fields he has been hugely innovative and had an unparalleled influence on countless other artists. This issue is given over to a man who is undoubtedly a pioneer, even a visionary: William Klein.
    Never before has Foam Magazine focused an entire issue on just one artist, but we are happy to make an exception for William Klein. In the course of his long career he has built up an oeuvre so rich, so diverse, so powerful and influential that nothing else compares to it. We are exceptionally proud to be able to give the work of this exceptional artist the space it deserves, not just in this magazine but in a large retrospective exhibition that will be held in our museum in Amsterdam from mid-December until mid-March.
    Klein laid down several milestones in postwar art history. The work he created in 1956 in his native city of New York is still seen as an unrivalled highpoint in the history of photography. Life is Good and Good for You in New York: Trance witness revels, the book about the city that he published that year, is regarded as a watershed in the history of the photobook: there is a period before it and another after it. No other photobook has had such an impact, and its unparalleled influence on photographers and book designers continues to this day. In a time when the photobook is flourishing and countless artists are experimenting with the medium, paying so much attention to Klein is more than justified; his books about Moscow, Rome and Tokyo are regarded as further highpoints of the medium.

    Life and Blur: William Klein at Foam Photography Museum, Amsterdam (2013/2014)


    The ‘Big Apple’, despite its reputation in Europe, is not the great and flawless city that its nickname might suggest. At William Klein’s retrospective at Foam in Amsterdam, the blurred image of two children dancing in Brooklyn, Danse à Brooklyn (1955), provides a fitting parody of the unattainable Broadway that sparkles in magazines. Visitors are greeted in the first room by some black-and-white clichés of New York hailing from the 1950s. Street photography represents a particular encounter between visual art and real life and generates a fundamental contradiction between movement and stasis, reality and artifact. What photography does, indeed, is to condense the dynamic of living into an image, a static fragment of form. Klein’s pictures are artistic crystallizations of life’s becoming and photography is the medium through which this interpenetration is made possible.


    Klein represents a world icon for the contemporary photography scene. Since the 1990s the artist has worked on Contacts, a series that consists of manipulated and enlarged photographs derived from the contact sheets he produced over the years. At the end of the exhibition, these photographs—in large format and colorized—represent an interesting but perhaps overly self-referential piece of work that betrays the artist’s awareness of his artistic and social status. Some of Klein’s most famous clichés have been reprinted, large-scale, revamped and over-painted. His artistic background as abstract painter originates from his apprenticeship in Paris with Fernand Léger. The artist's propensity for abstraction persists throughout his career and is clearly demonstrated by some of his photographs of billboards and urban illuminations. Broadway by Light (1958), Klein’s first film, which is presented at the beginning of the exhibition, bears witness to this particular abstract and typographical aesthetic. Klein was strongly drawn to colored signs and lights. It was precisely this attraction that guided him during his Milanese experience, as affirmed by the series of black-and-white abstract paintings commissioned by the Italian architect Angelo Mangiarotti in 1952—to be used as pivoting room dividers in modern apartments—as well as by the photographic services that Klein realized throughout the 1960s for the architecture magazine Domus, under the direction of Gio Ponti.


    Life is Good & Good For You in New York by William Klein from The Klieg Light on Vimeo.

    Born in 1928 in New York City, William Klein graduated early from high school and enrolled at the City College of New York at the age of fourteen. After joining the army, he was stationed in Germany and later in France, where he lives to this day. This young Jewish New Yorker, possessing a strong passion for the MoMA, arrived in Paris on 13 July 1949 and began his training as a painter at the Sorbonne. Inspired by artists such as László Moholy-Nagy and György Kepes, he began to experiment with juxtaposing abstract painting and photography. This was later to become his main form of expression. Six years of French life enabled him to observe his hometown as an ethnographer when returning for a visit to New York in 1954. The result of this brief trip is a kind of photographic diary, which portrays the city from a highly personal perspective. Life is Good and Good for You in New York: Trance Witness Revels (1956), the photo book that resulted from this experience, was strongly criticized precisely for this blurred and unconventional aesthetic. Nevertheless, it was awarded the Prix Nadar in 1957, thereby fulfilling Klein’s career and ultimately signaling his consecration. From this moment until 1964, he began travelling around the world to record life’s multiplicity. These trips gave rise to three other photobooks: Rome (1960), Moscow (1964) and Tokyo (1964). The exhibition at Foam presents Klein’s travels, chronologically displayed through his very personal, blurred black-and-white memories.

    Contradicting Henri Cartier-Bresson’s narrative of the invisible witness, Klein’s innovative approach is far less modest. It shows us unequivocally that it is his presence in itself that shapes the image. Although he never physically appears in the photo, frequently there is someone staring at the camera, as if the protagonists were talking with the photographer just prior to the click of the shutter. Somehow, the artist is always present via this dialogue. Gun 1 (1955) is the most famous example of this kind of dynamic: the challenging gaze of the child holding the firearm reveals his relationship to the photographer, and more generally, through this playful attack, every viewer is invited to take part in their ‘game’. Klein’s images do not inform us about the identity and subjectivity of people, but reveal something about the process of their realization, based upon the interrelationship of the subject and photographer. This is expressed most strongly in pictures such as Black Kid + Harmonica (1955), Office Girls + Snowman (1955), as well as a Little Girl + Lenin (1959), featuring the portrait of a little girl standing in front of a statue of Lenin in Moscow, as if posing before a family member. Not every photograph is permeated with the same degree of humanity. However, all appear as ‘spaces in between’: hence, the image's final result contains its own process of creation.


    Fashion arrives on the crossroads between real life and art.


    The artistic skills of Klein work to combine reality and fiction, street photography and artifact settings. One example is the photograph entitled Antonia Simone Barbershop, New York (1961) for Vogue magazine, for which he asked a random guy working in a bar to take a seat in the chair. Commissioned by Vogue’s art director Alexander Liberman from 1955 to 1965, the artist had the freedom to play with the fashion world from the inside. There is something grotesque and ironic in these images, to which Foam has dedicated an entire floor. Klein’s veiled mockery is created because he operates in that world—being both an insider and an outsider at the same time. Twisting stereotypical canons and toying with subversions through the use of backstage imagery, he proceeded in the direction of a real deconstruction of this iconic system. The backstage clichés Katsumo (1992), Gaultier (1986), Saint Laurent (1992), and Issey Miyake (1987), which are displayed at the beginning of this section, describe the processes that lie behind the creation of fashion’s flawlessness, describing the ‘real’ process of making. The preparation of a fashion show is shown in Klein’s satirical movie Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? (1965), which is presented at the end of the exhibition, along with the rest of his cinematographic production. Klein’s fashion photographs are the product of a game: the artist plays in the space between fiction and reality, using stereotypes to deemphasise its fictive and glossy appearance. Roberto Cappuci's fashion campaign in Piazza di Spagna in Rome is a clear example of this dynamic. Two beautiful top models are walking into a famous square of Rome; they appear totally out of context, as if stolen from the cover of a fashion magazine. It is precisely this clash between reality and fictional elements that creates such an original synthesis. Klein ‘transforms’ common people into actors on a photographic set, removing the zebra crossing from the banality of daily life and upgrading it into optic art. The clash between urban elements and elegant top models, along with the frequent use of mirrors, as in Evelyn, Isabella, Nena + Mirrors (1962) or Sandra + Mirror on Broadway (1962), is meant to emphasize the ‘fictive reality’ of fashion in order to create a surrealistic atmosphere that enables the artist to complete his ironic mockery. Irony permits the author to create this spatial limbo between reality and fiction, which is also used in the movies Mr Freedom (1967-68) and The Model Couple (1977), where the artist deals with power relations. Such irony has endured right up to the present day as well as his most recent work, with the photographs Hungry Aristocrats, taken at the 2001 Prix de Diane, and Golden Tits, taken at the Gay Pride in Paris in 2000, revealing that he still maintains his piercing satire.

    With regards to Klein’s recent production, Foam presents ten of his latest photographs featuring Brooklyn, which represent a renewed, second view of his hometown, after the originals from the 1950s. While the blurred and unconventional gaze of the artist is still the same, when one compares the two photo series, it becomes clear that Klein’s approach and choices are deeply influenced by the visual context. Mr. Coney Island, Brooklyn (2013) demonstrates how time has changed the city. Even if some aspects, such as urban billboards, remain attractive subjects for the artist, his decision to abandon the black-and-white aesthetic greatly changes the results, which are far removed from that classical and poetic scenography of the 1960s: the new images waver between the grotesque and pop-art.

    On the walls of Foam, the photographs appear to be arranged randomly, an approach that is encountered throughout the exhibition, in rejection of chronological or thematic canons of exhibition. The light setting in the rooms is a display in itself, creating a kind of visual puzzle, thereby reducing the symbolic distance between images and visitors. These choices allow the creation of a comfortable space in which to walk and interact with the photographs, and enabling one’s gaze to wander at will. This ‘cinematic posters shop’ kind of setting seems to be created without the intention to distract; instead, it seems to be connected with Klein’s unconventional approach to photography. The arrangement of the images resonates strongly with the ambivalent and ironic view of the artist, as well as the book layouts, in which he made extensive use of wide-angle and telephoto lenses, natural lighting and motion blur, such as Life is Good and Good for You in New York. And yet, the casual dispersion of pictures on the walls of Foam ends up disorienting the spectator’s gaze. With the look of a Tetris game, this unusual setup fails to define the aura of the individual artworks. In an era of figurative overproduction, this lack of spatial isolation can be quite risky. The complete absence of space between the prints blunts their visual strength and uniqueness. The choice for leaving out descriptions below individual pieces is also debatable. Titles are mentioned in uncomfortable, small maps to the left of the partitions. While the visitor is struggling to identify the correct work/title combination, the interesting dialogue that could potentially arise between images and words is inevitably lost. Nonetheless, visiting a retrospective like this is enriching, because it gives the visitor a sense of getting to know the artist in person via his oeuvre. This feeling can also be conjured up by reading the issue of the Foam Magazine #37, which has been devoted solely to William Klein to mark the occasion of this exhibition. Apart from portfolios featuring several of his photo series, it also includes an interview conducted by David Campany, in which the photographer talks about his life and work.

    CV


    Valentina Polinori graduated in Art History at the University of La Sapienza in Rome. She obtained her BA and MA in Contemporary Art History at the University of Paris-Sorbonne. She spent a semester at the Gender Studies Department of Utrecht University. 

























    donderdag 12 maart 2015

    Congo 1959 Mensen aan de stroom Gens du fleuve Cas Oorthuys Photography


    OORTHUYS, CAS., THYS VAN DEN AUDENAERDE, D. F. E. (DIRK F. E.), CREEMERS-PALMERS, M. - Mensen aan de stroom, Gens du fleuve.
    Museum-Tervuren,, 1992. samengesteld door D. Thys van den Audenaerde & M. Creemers-Palmers = Gens du fleuve: impressions de voyage de Cas Oorthuys au Congo Belge, 1959: album de photos / composé par D. Thys van den Audenaerde & M. Creemers-Palmers. vii, 205p; 

    Cas Oorthuys' photo archive numbers some 500,000 negatives, including about 7,000 negatives of the Belgian Congo. Oorthuys took these photographs in 1959, commissioned by the Belgian Government Information Service. Most of them are of people, but there are also landscapes, rivers, cities, villages and jungles.As well as pictures of inhabitants of the Belgian Congo, you will see fabric designs worn during that period.

    Exposities van Cas Oorthuys' Kongo-foto's bij Brussel; De laatste resten tropisch België



    Een versie van dit artikel verscheen op woensdag 8 juli 1992 in NRC Handelsblad.
    Op dit artikel rust auteursrecht van NRC Media BV, respectievelijk van de oorspronkelijke auteur.























    zaterdag 7 maart 2015

    Views & Reviews The Voices of Marrakech Elias Canetti Daido Moriyama Photography

    Elias Canetti, The Voices of Marrakesh


    Elias Cannetti’s narrative set in Marrakech during the mid 1950s describes a city still under the shadow of French colonial presence. The dates of publication of the original German edition (1967) and English translation (1978, 1982) may give the impression that the text deals with a post-colonial moment. However, a close reading of the text reveals the continuing presence of French colonial structure dominating the vast desolate landscape of houses which the French called native quarters. Canetti’s narrator presents vivid images of poverty, desperation, and loss akin to those portrayed by George Orwell in his 1939 essay, “Marrakech”.  Moving through the narrow alleys of the city, the seat of bygone powerful imperial dynasties, once the center of prosperous trans-Saharan trade and home of the best craftsmen, Canetti’s narrator observes a world both shocking and fascinating by its contrasts.

    There are markets for camels and donkeys just outside the Bab-el-Kemis. The fact that the camels are brought from the southern provinces of the country to sell to the butchers in Marrakech seems hard to accept, and creates a strong feeling of disillusionment for the narrator who it appears has never seen camels in real life. Being based at a luxurious hotel in the French part of the city, the narrator’s exploration of the native quarters follows the same pattern of shock and repulsion. The objects of his gaze vary from one day to another. There are, for instance, blind men chanting the name of Allah in an unchanging rhythmical pattern, there is also a blind beggar who will put a coin in his mouth and chew it for a long while. This is his way for identifying the value of the coin and also for bestowing his blessing on the benefactor. There is also the woman at the grill suffering from a mental problem whom the narrator takes for a captive and stands to observe under the disapproving eyes of passers-by. Not far from the ruined house where the insane woman lives lies the Koubba visited by scores of pilgrims. The wooden door of the Koubba has a knob in the shape of a ring from which dangle rags. These “were supposed to be shreds of the saint’s own robe and for the faithful there was something of his holiness in them.” (38)

    The core of Canetti’s narrative, however, revolves around the Mellah, a bustling place densely populated by Jewish families. The narrator’s initial foray inside the Mellah makes him aware of the rampant poverty which envelops the whole quarter. Jewish shops are ‘little low booths” and the wares sold are extremely picturesque. What strikes the narrator most is the discreet attitude of Jewish traders:
    They had a way of swiftly glancing up and forming an opinion of the person going past. Not once did I pass unnoticed. When I stopped they would scent a purchaser and examine me accordingly. But mostly I caught the swift, intelligent look before I stopped. (40)

    Moving deeper into the Jewish quarter past the bazaars, the narrator comes into a square whose charm and ambiance seem to charm and compel him to return on several occasions:
    I had the feeling that I was really somewhere else now,that I had reached the goal of my journey I did not want to leave, I had been here hundred s of years ago but I had forgotten and now it was all coming back to me. I found exhibited the same density and warmth of life as i had in myself. I was the square as I stood in it. I believe I am it always. (45)

    This initial visit is a sort of homecoming. Being a Jew himself, the narrator feels deep attachment to the Mellah. While his promenade in the Jewish cemetery is marred by the persistent and clamorous pursuit of beggars, his life in the Jewish quarter and its dwellers drives him to return the next day and make the accidental acquaintance of the Dahane family. The narrator’s decision to enter the Dahans’ house, however, brings more nuisance that indeed appease his curiosity. Over the remaining period of his stay in Marrakesh, the narrator is pestered with the incessant requests of Elie Dahane, a young unemployed member of the family, tofind him a job. When his requests  have been politely turned down, Elie Dahane insists that a letter of reference should be written on his behalf recommending his skills and character to the Commandant of the American camp in Ben Guerir. Nothing but full compliance with his demand could make an end to Elie Dahane’s unadvertised visits to the hotel. The power he seems to attach to the letter is at once incontestable and incomprehensible.

    The last sections of the narrative focus on French colonial presence in the city and present strange tales of sexual fantasies told the narrator by the owners of a French restaurant  and A French bar which he frequents.

    De kracht van overlevers

    'Op reis', schrijft Elias Canetti in Stemmen van Marrakesch, 'neemt men alles zoals het valt, de verontwaardiging blijft thuis. Je kijkt, je luistert, je bent verrukt over de meest afschuwelijke dingen omdat ze nieuw voor je zijn. Goede reizigers hebben geen gevoel.'Canetti, die in 1954 voor een maand of wat in Zuid-Marokko neerstrijkt, is inderdaad dikwijls verrukt wanneer hij door de soeks en de medina en de geurige straten van Marrakesch zwerft. En alleen al deze toestand botst met zijn opmerking over de gevoelloosheid van de ware reiziger. Als er ìemand emotioneel is, dan is hij het, de heer uit Europa die expres geen Arabisch of Berbers heeft geleerd, omdat hij door de puurheid van de klanken geraakt wil worden. Ja, deze vreemdeling zet zijn gemoed wagenwijd open. Ontvankelijk toont hij zich niet alleen voor de hem omringende schoonheid, maar ook voor de energie die het leven in Marrakesch uitstraalt.
    Zelfs in de nederigste wezens ontwaart hij een onverzettelijke kracht. Een golf van blijdschap stroomt door hem heen bij het zien van een magere ezel met een enorme erectie: die is 'sterker dan de stok waar men hem de nacht daarvoor mee had gedreigd.' En trots is de schrijver op een armzalig bundeltje mens aan zijn voeten: 'Misschien had het geen armen om naar de muntstukken te tasten. Misschien had het geen tong om de 'l' van Allah te vormen en werd de naam van God bij hem ingekort tot 'a-a-a-a-a-'. Maar het leefde en met een weergaloze ijver en volharding stootte het zijn enige klank uit, uren en uren achtereen, totdat het op het hele wijdse plein de enige klank geworden was, de klank die alle andere klanken overleefde.'In de mellah, de oude jodenwijk, heerst nog meer armoe dan elders, maar ook daar registreert Canetti vooral de rijkdom: het montere geklop en gehamer van de ambachtslieden, het genot waarmee een sloeber een karbonaadje verorbert, de met flair gevoerde discussie tussen een stel oude mannen. Opeens weet Canetti: dit pleintje in het hart van de mellah is het doel van zijn reis. 'Ik wilde hier niet meer vandaan; honderden jaren eerder was ik hier al geweest, maar ik was het vergeten en nu herinnerde ik het me allemaal weer.'
    Roept de mellah van Marrakesch zijn vroege kindertijd in hem wakker? Ruschuk, of Roese, aan de benedenloop van de Donau in Bulgarije moet begin deze eeuw een kleurrijk stadje geweest zijn, wild, bijna oriëntaals. In zijn autobiografie Die gerettete Zunge beschrijft Canetti (1905-1994) hoe hij als kleine jongen uit de jodenwijk van Ruschuk gefascineerd en angstig door al het vreemde aangetrokken werd: door de vele talen die hij op straat hoorde spreken, door de hem onbekende gewoontes, van de Turken bijvoorbeeld in de aangrenzende wijk, door de woeste schoonheid van de langsreizende zigeuners van wie gezegd werd dat ze joodse kindertjes stalen.
    Het jodenkind Elias leerde al snel om altijd op z'n hoede te zijn, en die oplettendheid herkent hij in de mellahbewoners. 'Geen enkele keer bleef ik onopgemerkt wanneer ik langsliep; (...) meestal trof hun snelle en intelligente blik mij lang voordat ik stil was blijven staan.' Maar het is meer dan de intelligentie, de kracht en de alertheid van de joodse overlevers, van àlle overlevers, die hem in Marrakesch zo frappeert. 'Ik vond er', formuleert hij ietwat plechtig in de toch al omzichtige vertaling van Theo Duquesnoy, 'die dichtheid en warmte van het leven uitgestald die ik in mijzelf voel.'
    En zo is het precies: Stemmen van Marrakesch is, gelukkig, een uiterst persoonlijke reeks observaties, scherp, poëtisch en even warm als de Marokkaanse zon waarover Canetti nooit klaagt.

    Daido Moriyama, Marrakech SUPER LABO / Kamakura, Japan, 2014 / Designed by Koichi Hara / superlabo.com
    Marrakech injects a shot of energy into a body of work Daido Moriyama made decades ago when he visited Morocco. This long, narrow book comes enclosed in a slipcase and opens to reveal two book blocks stacked on top of each other. The reader is invited to mix-and-match the full-bleed, high-contrast, black-and-white images according to his or her whims—an experiment in what Todd Hido calls “exquisite-corpse-style” sequencing. Lesley Martin points out, “This approach is very much in keeping with Moriyama’s own practice of revisiting and ‘remixing’ his own work, with less emphasis on the single image than on the visceral experience of viewing a series or combination of images. The inclusion of the viewer in this is another recent strategy of Moriyama’s, so all the more appropriate as a way of organizing the book.”

    ICP Store Photobook Flip: Daido Moriyama - Marrakech (1st and 2nd editions) from ICP on Vimeo.