Clarke sees two major strands in the history of landscape photography,
one on either side of the Atlantic. Across
both, photographers were agents of viewing, the privileged few who went out
into the world and brought back images from their journeys.
In England, they were tourists, wandering
about the countryside composing the equivalent of picture postcards. Their images were highly idealized versions
of a rural utopia. Clarke cites Roger
Fenton’s work as typical of the picturesque,
a genre reflecting “the leisurely assumptions of a class of people who looked
upon landscape scenery in aesthetic and philosophical terms.” That
is, they didn’t live there and weren’t terribly concerned with the reality of
those who did. Their version of the English
countryside was a “highly edited version … – exclusive and bound by mythology.” Clarke doesn’t bother to explain why this
might have been so. In his introduction to
the chapter he remarks on how the photograph emerged at a time when painters
were interested in realism and when science was making quick advances in
understanding the processes of the natural world. Why, then, this regressive trend in landscape
photography?
Across the ocean, American photographers were adventurers
and settlers, people who went out into the wilderness, often at government
behest, to document the lands west of the eastern seaboard. Clarke claims their primary concern was in
establishing ways for understanding the vastness the land and creating a
narrative of exploration and settlement, “part of a larger definition and
sanctioning of nationhood and independence.”
Clarke cites Timothy O’Sullivan’s wagon train crawling across the desert
of Nevada, or Carleton Watkins’ railroad track running into the horizon of Oregon. Where the English countryside was largely
settled and typically framed by reference to farm houses, mills, and country lanes,
much of the American landscape was untouched by human activity. In trying to capture these expanses,
photographers reflected the concerns of the Transcendentalists, who saw the
divine reflected in nature, “the land as a natural form…alive with potential
meaning.” This was picked up explicitly
by photographers such as Ansel Adams, whose work he finds infused with “philosophical
presence ... [of] the transcendent.” In
this, American landscape was not so different from its English counterpart;
what differed were the mythologies.
By the 20th century, Clarke sees American
landscape photography repeating much the same themes with “revitaliz[ed] … terms
of reference,” while in England he sees “increasing social awareness of how
landscape should be read.” He cites the
work of Raymond Moore and Michael Parr, in which the land is increasingly
cluttered, seen from a car, and nothing more than a scene on the road to
somewhere else. He says much the same of
Harold Sund’s "Yosemite Valley from Wawona Tunnel,” which I can’t yet find
on the internet and to which I would greatly appreciate any reference.
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