Untitled (Lake Torrens) 2007 by Ingvar Kenne
It would be easy to take one look at the photos in Australian photograher's Ingvar Kenne's Landscapes Deconstructed and not think much about them and not look at them again. They are quiet and beautiful photo-collages, but photo-collages of landscapes, in particular, have been done. The first example that came to my mind were the Polaroid collages by painter David Hockney. And landscapes, of course, are done a lot. But Ingvar, of course, knows all this.
So if you do decide to look at them again, and I hope you do look at them and some of his other work on his website, you'll realize you have a lot to think about.
Kenne gives us a good introduction in his statement:
So if you do decide to look at them again, and I hope you do look at them and some of his other work on his website, you'll realize you have a lot to think about.
Kenne gives us a good introduction in his statement:
Landscapes Deconstructed draws on the rich tradition of landscape photography, but it sets out to distance itself from its legacy of perfectionism, unspoken guidelines and aesthetic formalism. Instead it offers alternative ways of looking at and approaching the image of land, investigating the act of serious damage inflicted and subsequent restoration, with all its imperfections and misguided intentions. It is rare, if not near impossible, to find yourself in any surrounds, without seeing the impact by hand. The land is altered, dug, shifted, rebuilt, fenced, grazed, logged, paved, poisoned.Land is constantly shifting and tilting all around us; and photographers, like Ingvar, and like Patrick O'Hare, who is showing an intimate series of photographs at PS 1 right now, and like Edward Bustynsky, to name a couple, have patiently reminded us of our predilection to pave and poison. As contrary as it seems, most of their work is stunningly beautiful in spite of its content. Ingvar takes a direct if non-traditional approach in addressing these issues by poking and prodding and pulling at the surface of his prints and negatives, treating them much in the same way as we treat the surface of the earth, for better or for worse. It is the beauty, the horrifying beauty, of these works that forces us to examine what we humans are doing, to look and to think and to look again. And at the rate we're doing what we're doing, without always thinking, we shouldn't lack for reminders, so for that I say: keep up the good work Ingvar!

