It
was our first day in Stockholm. The sun was sparkling and dancing off the
rippling waters of the Baltic Sea, begging to be celebrated. With four hours in
the palm of our hands, this was not a day to be spent indoors. The plethora of
opportunity drove our group to prioritize an activity that we had been promised
was not to be missed: Fotografiska, the photography museum in Stockholm.
Normally,
I am a museum aficionado—but on our first day in Stockholm after two days of
hard work and travel, I wanted to frolic in the sunshine. Therefore, the day started
off on the wrong foot, which promptly marched with the group what felt like 100
kilometers to the museum. Well, not quite that distance, but enough to
cultivate a strong opinion on entering the museum, by which I mean I had zero
intention. I love photography, but I didn’t understand why I should use my
limited time in Stockholm to see something that I could view in the artist’s
published book, printed exactly as they intended (potentially in the Stanford Art
and Architecture Library for free!)
There
was a lot of foot traffic when we arrived at the museum. It appeared that we
weren’t the only ones advised this was a worthy way to spend a beautiful summer
day. Set in my negative Nancy role, I was still skeptical. It wasn’t until the
rest of the group decided to buy tickets that I begrudgingly did the same. As
much as I didn’t want to spend our first day in Stockholm indoors, I really
didn’t want to spend it alone.
The
museum had three floors exhibiting different artists’ work. The first exhibit
showed the work of Inez van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin, Dutch fashion
photographers. This was not a good floor to start on as it affirmed my fear
that I could see such works in other places at other times. And I really did
feel like I had seen it before: on the pages of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar, on
billboards and bright screens as part of the whirlwind of marketing and
advertising that surrounds us each and every day in an increasingly commercial
world.
The
work itself was beautiful: large images of well-known celebrities looking
vulnerable, elegant, and ridiculous; a nude portrait almost entirely covered by
a large, insidious-looking sculpture; twisted, highly saturated fashion
advertisements of women in uncomfortable poses; even a women with her head
edited backwards. Each piece was printed and exhibited very well. Bright lights
exposed the smallest details of each photograph—details that wouldn’t be
visible in an artist’s book of any size.
Still,
I wasn’t quite pleased with my experience at this point. Photography in the
form of advertising and marketing is forced upon the average consumer every
day. And most of it is actually pretty good, setting a terribly high bar for
fashion photographers. The next room was small and dark as night, except for a
large bright screen reflecting off the faces of the viewers stopping by. A
continuation of work by Inez and Vinoodh, this room displayed a series of
fashion films and music videos created by the pair. In this dark room, I sat
for five consecutive versions of Lady Gaga’s “You and I,” featuring five
separate characters that were all as different as they were Gaga. Although “You
and I” is an agonizingly catchy and magnificent song, it was the cinematography
that captivated my attention like a siren’s call. Inez and Vinoodh captured all
of the subtleties of Gaga’s performance with close cuts and made her more
dramatic gestures into elegant movements by slowing down the footage. After
fifteen minutes in complete darkness on a sunny day, things were actually
looking up.
The
rest of the museum was exquisite. Partially because my mood dramatically increased from the artful presentation of Gaga's performance, but also because the other floors felt more similar to the art I was used to. Nick Brandt's exhibit on East African wild life provoked thought and emotion. The beauty and horror of his images almost made me cry. On the third floor, the Anders Zorn exhibit was again delightful in a familiar way, showing his early use of photographs as basis for his etchings and drawings.
Perhaps
I didn’t give enough credit to Inez and Vinoodh’s photography due to a jaded complex caused by the everyday onslaught of fashion photography. Surely the duo belongs in the
museum as contemporary icons with large contributions to the world of fashion photography, but it wasn’t until I reached their film exhibit
that I really appreciated their work. My mindset changed from disillusioned to entirely enthralled at the snap of Gaga's fingers. I’m not sure if it was the medium, my
mood, or the artists’ talents, but all contributed to my experience at
Fotografiska, demonstrating the complexity and derisory of the amateur
critique. Upon exiting the museum, the sunshine was still waiting for me. It seemed to be a little brighter.
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