Art vs. Craft: A Discussion on Ralph Eugene Meatyard By LEX GIBSON
To regard the photography of Ralph Eugene Meatyard is to do far more than simply view an image. The work requires you to experience it, to fall into it, and carry it with you. There are no opportunistic snapshots, no stumbled upon moments; instead Meatyard employs his camera to actually and fully create art as opposed to simply framing it. He manufactures a new reality in which the viewer has no frame of reference, and is left rudderless and vulnerable. Forced to do something that makes them deeply uncomfortable, to question themselves. In a time where photography was predominated by escapist fantasies, Meatyard instead drove the audience inward, and, like all truly great artists, went greatly under-appreciated for the bulk of his life.
In all fairness to his critics, Meatyard was not in truth a photographer but a hobbyist, and took pictures infrequently, most often only once a year during his two-week vacations from his Kentucky optometry practice. However, the lack of time spent shooting was not to his detriment, but counterintuitively a large part of his success. By not shooting constantly, Meatyard was able to retain reverence for the subject, avoiding the pitfall of many photographers wherein one cultivates a reverence for the photographed. With the proper light and framing, anything can be beautiful, and with constant shooting, one is sure to capture multitudes of aesthetically pleasing images. What is the photographer then, other than a glorified recording device with a decent eye? Meatyard’s photographs are difficult because they are not fragments, or moments, they are entire universes spilling out of their square borders.
The scenes range from surreal to nightmarish, with every element possible employed with clear intent. They are so masterfully crafted that they masquerade as accidents, as reality; not overly alien, or contrived. They are recognizable enough for the viewer to identify them, making the subtle tweaks all the more jarring; in that one understands just enough to be frightened to realize that one does indeed understand them. They do not shock, or cause the viewer to look away; they are seductive, and haunting. There is no strong contrast to leap out at us, only dark and murky grayness, forcing one to look closer to discover the subject. In doing so Meatyard compels you to think, to consider, to participate, and not merely look. Because of this, the pictures are able to transcend beyond the typical, becoming visual embodiments of the philosophical and poetic. Instead of windows attempting to make one yearn to visit distant cities or deserts, or fall in love with an artfully lit flowerpot; they are mirrors, reflecting only what we give them.
To evaluate Meatyard (and in truth art in general) on an aesthetic or technical level is betrayal, great art rarely employs our ideas of great craft; which is to say in the presence of real art, one does not notice craft. An artists knowledge of the technical, and understanding of the beautiful are both only tools with which to work and exploit. The danger comes from relying too heavily on either, and losing sight of what is actually being said (if anything). A truly great work of art requires the individual to perceive it as such, to regard it and experience it and draw their own conclusions. Not to be convinced of its merit based on mathematical formulas of composition and chiaroscuro.
There are many of the opinion that everything is art, but art is an extremely broad term, easily tossed about and affixed to most anything. But real, true, sincere art does not dress up and beg you to love it; it might be heartbreakingly gorgeous, it might make you vomit, or it might march right up and punch you in the face. What it must be is honest, and true to itself, and it must provoke a stronger reaction than “that’s pretty” or “how clever”, and above all, it must not go down easy. Meatyard may not occupy a very prominent position in written photographic history, but he is one of the few great photographers yet to be seen; because love him or loathe him, I dare you to forget him.
