Review: Hell Bent by These Days Gallery

Dear Jodi and Stephen,

I imagine there is a sort of asymmetry in the work that you do at These Days. The artist with whom you share your space, resources, and support, I can imagine express their own versions of genuine gratitude; otherwise, perhaps the majority of the experiences you foster, being that of your patrons, of which I include myself, may be less pervasive or apparent.

Speaking to Jodi at the Analog Outlaw event yesterday, she quipped after my gushing of her recommendation of Miron Zownir and Scot Sothern’s,Hell Bent, that if I were to post my comments on TripAdvisor.com (the go to internet space for itinerate thrill seekers) she would publish my comments. My enthusiastic response, thinking I could give back to These Days in this small way by performing such a task led to Jodi having to explain the gag to me, in that These Days does not have a presence on tripadvisor.com (the go to internet space for itinerate thrill seekers).

That being said, as well as the belief of this asymmetric gratitude also being said (see previous), I felt perhaps I write out my comments regardless, and send it along for your fridge, or waste bin — speaking of which, are you good at eating your leftovers? I have a bowl of lentils under saran, some jasmine rice in a Tupperware, and half a tin of whole skinned tomatoes in my fridge that have been there for at least two weeks. Throwing them away, as is now required, only confirms my shame of waste. What a shame… a waste of shame!

Moving on.

The following is a write up of what I had expressed with Jodi yesterday for tripadvisor.com (the go to internet space for itinerate thrill seekers).

Dear Mr./Mrs. TripAdvisor.com,

While attending the Nick Haymes and Love Bailey opening for Dancing on the Fault Line at These Days Gallery in Los Angeles, I had the good fortune of independently enjoying the company of the gallery owners, Stephen and Jodi. While admiring the beautiful exhibition, a polite “hey how’s it going?” directed Stephen’s way afforded a lovely chat, only to be interrupted by my existential awkwardness, resulting from being introduced to another artist associate of Stephen’s as “this is Ben, he’s also a great photographer”, to which I politely responded, “hello, nice to meet you”, shook hands, and abruptly excused myself to the bar with a still half-full plastic cup of white wine.

Later, while admiring the store portion of the gallery space which is filled with beautiful art books, zines, and other wonderful ephemera, a polite “how ya doing?” directed this time in Jodi’s direction, led to another lovely chat and her providing a brief demonstration of some of the works in their catalog. A row of zines across the top of a shelf towards the back of the shop drew a level of passion and enthusiasm that would have been difficult to ignore. As Jodi was thumbing through some of the pages whilst explaining the works, I found myself genuinely compelled to explore these works further.

As a result, on a sort of whim fostered by Jodi’s enthusiasm, I purchased Hell Bent, compiled and published through These Days, which is a collection of images and email correspondence between the photographers, Miron Zownir in Berlin, and Scot Sothern in Los Angeles. In these correspondences Zownir and Sothern exchange some anticipated pleasantries, their influences, and discuss arrangements for sharing prints of their work with each other. They also discuss their relationship to “compromising”, Zownir commenting at one point, “…but still I must say I’ve met more cowards in the cultural establishment than brave ones. And that I lasted so long without compromising is a miracle.”, both artists outlining how their careers had predominantly existed in realms of relative obscurity, or at times, even less definable than that. At one point Zownir comments, “that’s fucking tough!” to Sothern’s admission that although he had begun making images in the 60s, his first gallery show wasn’t until 2010, and within that same notion, Zownir states, “… for more than 30 years I’ve been living more or less on the edge.”

I too am an artist, a photographer in fact, I would be hesitant to even abide the somewhat noble, subcultural designation of “artistic obscurity”. Now 37-years old, concluding a non-arts based master’s degree after I returned to academics at 30, I feel as though I am sitting at the vista of the void that is the future. As an artist, I’d say peers, as well as myself, could consider my creative ideology principled at best, and at worstpossibly rigid, or hopefully…even uncompromising. Uncompromising sounds glamorous to me, sounds like the ethos of true artists. I have a vision of an artistic future that more often than not feels unrealistic or untenable, whether it be the work that I create, or the manner in which it is disseminated more broadly / experienced in the world.

Through much of Hell Bent, I felt an undoing, a creative destruction. The deep resonance I felt with these artists in conversation both validated my sense of uncompromising visions for the future of my work, yet devastated my belief in my own sense-of-self to possess the capacity to endure such as this. Zownir and Sothern’s images are stunning, yet it was the conversation that evoked the most palpable of emotions for me this time — enough so to warrant an immediate full reading by way of dimmed late-night light, while laying next to my sleeping partner. And further, a subsequent reading the following morning over coffee and a Chet Baker record (the one where he plays with a strings section, I think from 1954).

I needed to better understand how they endured their uncompromising nature. While both mention, somewhat in jest, that they were fortunate to have had supportive partners, Sothern at one point mentioning, “I’ve worked jobs I didn’t really want and I’ve been supported by wives, past and present.”, later mentioning it was after his third marriage in which he took to greater efforts to breach the art world. Zownir also shares this same sentiment saying, “And yes I also was always supported by the women I lived with.” (consider the almost comical imagery of reading this part of the conversation to myself, and looking over to a softly lit sleeping love, whom I care deeply for, in the context of a relatively new relationship — 2 weeks after finally finalizing my own divorce). Charming as it is, this still doesn’t speak to enduring. I can only imagine the challenges to reasonably subsistence that could be posed to an individual, let alone the inter-relationship dynamics that abide an, albeit talented, but uncompromising artist navigating the world on the support of a partner. Not only would this arrangement require the need for the indelible belief in the artist, by the artist, but also on behalf of them too — especially when things get tough, as they so often do.

So, how?!

Sothern speaks of a bitterness towards the conventional art world, and laments the gallery owners, curators, and publishers that fill a reasonably-sized box with their rejection letters. Even though he claims to be less engaged in this practice of resentment or bitterness, there is a tint of it in the way he writes of it, even if its from a historical perspective. Perhaps I am hesitant to be convinced this experience could be conceived of as “uncompromising”, because perhaps it can also be conceived as “stubbornness” to their own disservice. I think this is the conceptual tension I find myself wrestling with; how do we convince ourselves that our stubbornness is indeed just conviction?; is stubbornness ever the right decision?; how do we so strongly believe in our work, and the processes in which we create that work, to hold firmly long enough for this sort of speculative cultural capital to reach full maturation?; does art have some additional beneficial quality when its created by someone willing to possibly die in obscurity, in a room full of negatives and prints, before that potentiality is realized?

Its seems that Zownir and Sothern never much concerned themselves with these questions, at least as far as Hell Bent demonstrates. But, I do. The issue seems to be, as far as I can tell, that it doesn’t feel as though they had a choice in being the type of artist that they are, as I do. Yet I’m so god damn sick of being poor, and further yet, I feel a visceral repulsion towards exploiting my creativity through conventional means. As an example, I often snidely remark when encountering certain works “what a fucking wedding photographer”, a premium denigration in my own mind. Bear in mind, having had one unsuccessful wedding myself, the photographs were of the utmost importance to me, so I don’t actually denigrate the profession wholly. But, the critique stems from the feeling that although many wedding photographers create beautiful images that couples cherish for a lifetime, they are handling multiple thousands of dollars in cameras and lenses, likely with a second photographer, on a day that is possibly the most intensely planned days of someones life. Once we add the money, the labor, and the time that people put into looking like royalty for their special day, and we add an open bar, and a DJ playing the Chicken Dance, The Macarena, and Sweet Caroline — you’d be hard pressed to not capture a litany of decent images. This has value, I know it does, but that doesn’t mean its not fucking intensely boring if its not a wedding you were directly involved in, or tangentially connected to. But, a photographers gotta eat, right?

This is what compromise seems like to me, and as of now, I ardently refuse these terms. But, these aren’t the terms I’m reading in Hell Bent that these two artists have grappled with. They both speak of undesirable jobs, at one point Sothern even discussing his commandeering of a portrait photographers basement studio in a mall in Florida, learning to mimic the previous owners style. There are periods where he claims have not shot a single frame. And Zownir reflects on the little effort he put in before successfully contacting just one gallery.

So, what the fuck is it that they were uncompromising on?

Both of their works are jarring, social, joyful, dark, subcultural, gritty… human. A perfect example of this is Zownir quoting one of the people featured in an image of his, “I might be insignificant and ugly but I have more fun than anyone!” — I love that. Their work seemingly wasn’t palatable for the art world at the time, and they acknowledge this throughout, (even cheekily chiding Mapplethorpe for his 1978 Self Portrait N.Y.C, the one where he has the bullwhip up his ass), and at one point acknowledging, “I do understand how few people would want a large picture of a naked crack whore on the living room wall. But still, maybe they could put it in the guest room.”

So…

Is the uncompromising act in continuing to make these sorts of images out of that indelible belief of its worth?

Is the uncompromising act in getting rejections for images of this sort, and not giving in to greener pastures like wedding or commercial photography?

Is the uncompromising act in being willing to live in austerity until your talent might be realized, and hoping that your death doesn’t precede the realization?

Or, is simply not concerning yourself with death or austerity, and just getting on with it?

It is this final question which vexes me. Zownir and Sothern do create beautiful work, and I’m deeply grateful they were “uncompromising” in whatever form led them here, as now I can enjoy not only their work, but these correspondence (existentially cataclysmic they seem to be). I am so grateful to These Days, and Jodi and Stephen for the ways in which they conduct their art space, and in this more specific instance, I am grateful for Jodi’s direction towards Hell Bent, and the welcome philosophical unfurling is has afforded.

Here is my review:

These Days Gallery: 5/5 stars

Hell Bent, by Miron Zownir & Scot Sothern: 4.73/5 stars

Please forward along the appropriate channels, I look forward to receiving notice of its inclusion in your reviewer annals soon.

See you around,

Kind regards,

Sincerely,

B.Maries

Los Angeles, CA

Ok, great.

Well there you have it.

- Ben