Impatient doesn't quite describe my overeager excitement for the photography museum in Amsterdam to finally re-open. So, Kyle and I headed over to "Foam" on Friday to see their new exhibit, "
What's Next? The Future of the Photography Museum," a ten-year anniversary project at the museum questioning the contemporary meaning of photography... With such an increase in availability of cameras and digital media texts, it is difficult to draw the line between the casual "photo-snapper" and artful photographer. Who is actually an artist, a photographer? And what does digital editing change about the art of an organic photograph? And, perhaps one of my most recent points of interest: What is the point of all the documentation--what happens to these pictures, especially when posted online? Especially following my recent (and reluctant) movement to digital photography, leaving my beloved film camera at home for the semester, I am even more aware of the power that these little memory cards have to change, even revolutionize the art of photographs into something either meaningless or more significant, depending on what exactly you do with your photos: Do you keep them for yourself, taping them into scrapbooks and on walls and letting their exhibition become a piece of their story, or do you share them online with friends...and the world? My questions and thoughts extend far deeper than I can possibly detail here, but my gears are turning.
The coolest part of the exhibition was the work of a guest curator, Erik Kessels. Fascinated by the massive quantity of photographs uploaded online daily, he printed every single image uploaded within a given 24 hours. The 4 x 6 prints fill two rooms you can walk through... Laying down in a pile of documented experiences, taking a close look at life through anybody's lens, is also perfectly acceptable.
Kyle and I were both secretly hoping to find a picture of someone we knew, or one that we had taken...unrealistic given the unbelievable quantity of photos. (I'm sitting on a pile about 3 inches deep, at least.) We tricked each other into thinking we had found one of ourselves (gasps and wide eyes and all), but were ultimately unsuccessful. Nonetheless, it was so fun to flip through photos, some that are clearly more meaningful and personal than others. It's crazy how fascinated we can be with other people's lives and snapshots of moments foreign to us that somehow evoke memories of our own. Makes me think about the targeted audience for the image I'm seeking to capture each time I click away, if an audience is even necessary. And, as excited as I am to continue working with my new camera, I certainly miss my simple film camera, where my eyes looking through the viewfinder and the f-stop and shutter speed are the artists of inversely painted images on film I'll play with in the darkroom. Luckily, my handy dandy museum card gets me into the museum for free...I have a feeling I'll be back to think more.
After eating lunch along the Keizergracht (and maybe feeding a duck or two...way to go, Kyle), we biked to Albert Cuyp market to pick up ingredients for dinner. Of course, a Dutch delicacy was in order:
Poffertjes (mini pancakes) are a local favorite and the perfect treat at any point of the day.
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| "Oh yes, definitely the right choice." |
After dropping off groceries at home, I went for a long walk to get some more fresh air. The seasons are really turning here, and the newly brisk air against my face is one of my favorite sensations. I picked a good night to go for a stroll, because it just so happened to be Saint Maartens day. Children in the Netherlands celebrate by moving from door to door in the neighborhood, singing carols and collecting candy after their performance. It was adorable to listen to these little munchkins squeaking out the carols as they looked up longingly at the adult beholder of the candy. And also hilarious to walk past a group of older kids who rapped and beat boxed their carol. One of the best parts was watching older Dutch folk stroll by, smiling back at the groups of kids who clearly evoked sweet memories of their own Saint Maarten celebration, back in the day. Young voices and nostalgia filled the cooling air, and it was the most pleasant way to welcome in Shabbat.
We made a delicious curry for dinner and I ended my week on a definite high note: laughing with friends around the Shabbat table at the end of a long week is exactly my cup of tea.
