Edition Announcement #127 - Gregory Krum

Hello to you, my fine collector friends, on this arctic Wednesday. Apparently today's briskness is just the tip of the iceberg — the Northeast is headed into its first dramatically deep freeze of the season tomorrow with temperatures diving into the single digits. Knowing this, I had the presence of mind to savor an open-coated stroll after dinner last night, knowing that the evening was positively balmy in comparison to what's in store.

The cool tones of today's edition, Nymphenburg are a good match for the icy clime, especially since my affection for its creator, Mr. Gregory Krum, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I can't help but adore an artist who begins his statement with "I am totally uninterested in telling the truth" and then goes on to describe his photography as truth-telling. I completely disagree with this statement, and yet there's something about Gregory's eye that allows me to totally surrender to his truth.

As I said when introducing Chateau Pool, his previous 20x200 edition, I cannot for the life of me articulate what makes Greg's work magic for me. It just is. Sure, we can discuss formal qualities, and subject matter and the thinky-but-not-snobby intellect that informs his practice, but none of that justifies the way that it seems perfectly acceptable for me to allow his truths to serve as impostors for my own memories.

All of this makes the assertions of an article I read while back — one that's really stuck with me — seem somewhat less preposterous. The article describes a phenomenon where the movies and television consumed when we are young gets inserted in our memories as our own experiences. In other words, people become convinced that they've experienced something that was, well, just a movie. Which seems crazy, and kind of sad, but does it matter, really? Is memory about experience or an emotion? Is recollection fact or sensation?

In his statement, Greg talks about "the narrative present in all spaces." Narrative is one of the most compelling qualities in photography for me. I've always said that I feel like an exhibition at the gallery is successful when people come in and start telling me what's happening in the images that they're looking at with utter certitude. (And the stories vary widely.) And while it's true that Nymphenburg and its companions in Greg's Hard Times series are all ripe with narrative, those narratives are never anything I'd have found if visiting those places on my own.

This is partially because I am not an artist. The ability to frame something uniquely and present it as the truth is something I admire and envy in all artists. I just can't do it, in the same way that I can't sing. Words are all I have, that's where I find my truth. It's pretty unlikely that I'll ever get to Nymphenburg, but Greg's given me enough to go on with his photo. His framing allows me to imbue the air with a quality of dustiness that has a chalky smell, and to insert distinct individuals in the unpeopled space, that are wearing certain clothes and shuffling about in a certain way. It's as if I was there.

Previous Newsletter : Edition Announcement #126 - Amy Talluto