Tuesdays are always great for a jaunt to a museum here in São Paulo; not because of some astrological reason of the alignment of the planets on Tuesdays, or some numerological notion of Tuesday being the second day of the week (or third, depending on where you're from). It's simply because museums are free. This does of course mean that they are inevitably much fuller than one would expect during the week, but it's a concession one must be willing to make in such circumstances. Last week, I went to take advantage of this at the São Paulo Art Museum (MASP) to see a new photography exhibition that has just opened here on the work of Walker Evans (pictured above).
Born at the beginning of the 20th century and living until the mid-70s, Evans was best known for his work during the Great Depression when he travelled across the United States documenting its effects for the Farm Security Administration. Emblematic 8x10 photographs from all four corners of the economically-crippled power lined much of the walls in the exhibition, showcasing bleak landscapes and impoverished farmers. On top of this governmental work, Evans also toured Alabama with writer James Agee to do a story for Fortune magazine on the lives of three rural families. The story never ran but Agee's text and Evans' photographs were developed into the seminal book concerning the Great Depression, 'Let Us Now Praise Famous Men'. This series of photographs was also on display at the exhibition; unlike his others on the same subject matter, Evans opted for a much more personal insight into these families which included many close-up portraits. The aesthetic beauty here comes from the shades of gray that bring life to the faces of his subjects, falling in between the searing white Alabama sun and the dark shadows cast on the barren fields.
Evans also went to Cuba on an assignment in the mid-30s for Carlton Beals' book 'The Crime of Cuba' about dictator Gerardo Machado. The different environment provides a fresh and interesting contrast to the Depression photographs. Whilst Evans still captures the poverty on show as he did in his home country, such as a photograph showing a poverty-stricken mother begging on the street with her three children sleeping around her, there was clearly a fascination with this wildly different culture. One particularly enigmatic photograph shows an elegantly dressed cuban man standing in the street; the stark contrast between the man's dark skin and his crisp white suit makes him stand out remarkably from his surroundings.
The exhibition was largely chronological which allowed one to see Evans' development as a photographer relatively easily. In his early work from the mid- to late-20s, much of it demonstrated more aesthetic concerns; many photographs showed his interest in geometric patters and ideas of perspective as well as relations between light and darkness. Much of it was reminiscent of De Chirico both in terms of his use of forms and shapes and of chiaroscuro. As a whole, the exhibition presents Evans' development of a concept of photography as documentary art, not only capturing reality as the camera sees it but also drawing out aesthetic elements within that. Over time, one sees how Evans' sensitivity to capturing human expression became the priority at the expense of traditional notions of aesthetics. This is most evident in his 'Subway' series, which saw the photographer taking pictures of passengers of subway trains in New York. The framing and focus is often imperfect and the lighting somewhat muddy. Yet there is something undeniably intriguing about the photgraphs as they present images that vary from comic to tragic, and always verging on poetic.
Most of his photographs are found in art museums these days. Should you chance upon an exhibition of his in the near future, it'll certainly be worth the visit.
