Looking at Light within Candida Hfer and Tadao Andos Works - Research Paper Example

Looking at light within Candida Höfer and Tadao Ando’s works Introduction The interplay of light and shade seems to be the hallmark of any great creation, be it painting, or photograph or, even an architectural piece. The subtle layers of light with their accompanying shades of shadows lend a completely different dimension to the creation that goes well beyond the conventional three dimensions that we are aware of. The interplay of lights of varying intensity seems to create interconnected zones that segue into one another without the slightest hiccup all the while strictly maintaining their individual existence. This dance of light within light lends an otherworldly charm to things that are most ordinary, mundane and even such mute lifeless objects as furniture or empty hallways acquire a charm of their own and seem to throb with life even without a visible trace of any living being within the frame of reference. There are photographers and architects that have used light to a dazzling effect in their creations and have effortlessly transcended barriers of conventional dimensions by introducing a feeling of unlimited space and pulsating vitality. Candida Höfer You would, I am very sure, be really hard pressed to locate a more committed worshipper of light than Candida Höfer, the German photographer who had her training in photography under Bernd and Hilla Becher. Candida specialises in photographing empty spaces and zones she prefers to term as ‘social spaces’ that tend to capture the inherent psychology of an entire society as it is reflected in these social spaces. Candida has been besotted with the marvels and intricacies of streaming light ever since she had first picked up a camera and perhaps honestly believes what C. G. Jung had said about a century ago, “As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.” (Jung, 1989) She had been genuinely and steadily doing just that by lending her inimitable grace and genius in bathing empty spaces with numerous shafts of brilliance and creating newer perspectives of viewing these majestic structures. The first thing that strikes a viewer of Candida’s recent photographs is, besides of course the blemish free technical perfection, an awe inspiring signature tune, as it were, of sameness. After viewing a couple of photographic creations of this genius with the camera, any discerning cognoscenti would instantly be able to spot another from among a heap of similar photos. Almost all photographs are of huge, mostly rectangular, rooms bathed in light streaming either from skylights or large rows of windows on the left hand side of the photo frame. There is, as usual, no trace of any human being or anything that might suggest the presence of a human being and those grand spaces radiate an aura of timelessness with a complete detachment from any form of historical perspective. (Afinogenov, 2008) In Chateau de Versailles III, while light cascades in through a gigantic skylight running right across the length of the cavernous hall with another brightly shining skylight located at the point where the wall meets the ceiling at the far end of the hall, the huge paintings adorning both the walls and the precise geometry of the floor tiles depict a coldness that can emanate only from something that is timeless. Candida, it seems, wanted this feeling of coldness, or a chilly feeling to be conveyed to the viewers. This feeling of awe and a consequent awareness of the insignificance and frailty of human life is brought home rather starkly in Fontainebleau photographs where light streaming in from huge arched glass windows not only bathe the coloured frescos on the right wall and but create a delicate but remorselessly rigid pattern in light and shade of exquisitely designed beams that hold up the massive roof. These spaces were once inhabited by humans but now not a soul inhabits them, thus granting them an eerie aura that is suspended between stark reality and innermost unchartered recesses of human mind. Candida, by removing all traces of humans, tries to present these gorgeous edifices in an impersonal yet poetic perspective never experienced before. Candida’s obsession with architecture is not without reason as the emptiness of public spaces is steeped in a form of silence, asceticism and stillness that envelopes the viewer in its wake and leaves him speechless. (Krüger, 2007) Candida Höfer has used light, vast expanses of internal spaces and marvellous architecture to create the quiet melancholy of a surreal magic that often tends to blur dimensions and somehow lead the viewer to a realm far separated from the petty realities of everyday existence. The beauty of Candida is in her ability to create romance in cold marble as one sees in Musée du Louvre Paris IX where successive massive arches resting on equally ornate columns of pure marble proceed from relative shade to bright and yet brighter light till the entire attention gets focussed on a dark statue that is accentuated by two dark small pillars on either side and an amalgam of light and shade on the pure white stark backdrop. (Cruickshank-Hagenbuckle, 2007) The use of light in creating depth and distance in this photograph simply makes ones heart skip a beat at the effortless grace that seems to drip from every part of this giant creation. The viewer almost unknown to him utters: He builded better than he knew;-- The conscious stone to beauty grew. (Emerson, 2009) It would however be a travesty of justice if we concentrate only on Candida’s photographs of grand edifices and forget her other equally memorable photographs of public spaces that are surely equally fascinating in their use of light and colour. These photographs never capture a human form but there is an ever present impression of fleeting spirits that somehow populate the empty spaces and might get back their human form at the wave of a magic wand wielded by an equally enigmatic magician. In Ca Rezzonico, three giant shafts of light pour in through three huge glass windows and they mingle in a pool of light on the floor creating a shimmering curtain of translucent light beyond which one can almost see and feel willowy shapes moving about in a soundless and strangely ethereal manner. Or, consider the photograph of the inner hall of archaeological museum in Venice where an extremely bright shaft of light enters through the doorway and almost pierces the gloom inside the room as it illuminates the sculptures placed around the room against the walls and in some of the cases the illumination is so bright that the sculpture becomes one with the shaft of light and loses its individual form and shape. When a viewer sees the giant photograph, for one instant he or she gets the feeling that the sculptures have gained wings and are about to mingle with something that is infinitely larger and more magnificent than what any human sculptor can ever sculpt out of a block of stone. As is the case with her other photographs, these photographs are also devoid of human presence but there is no deliberate exclusion of human beings, they simply do not be there and can never form a part of the unique texture of light and shade that these inanimate shapes and structures create. (KIMMELMAN, 2004) Candida Höfer’s camera explores every minute detail of the subject in the immaculate interplay of light and shade but always maintains a detached distance without attempting to take sides or pass a loud judgement. In fact, complete absence of human forms in social places has led to term Candida’s work as Architecture of Absence. Consider the marvellous U-Bahnstation Theaterplatz, Oslo II where the entire station is bathed in bright halogen lights where we locate two human shapes, one standing and the other slumped forward on a seat on the platform, almost mingle with the transparent enormous pillars that hold up the roof in what appears to be vast swathes of illumination that have dark shades within their bowels. It gives a fabulous lightness to the entire creation. This is accentuated by bright light reflecting off the platform making it look as if made of sparkling silver with a hint of brass and, honestly, one strongly feels that any human form would have perhaps disturbed the superbly crafted canvas. The two pairs of rail glisten enticingly almost pulling the viewer by the scruff of neck and drawing towards the pitch dark that lies beyond four blobs of light just beyond the brightly lit station and at the mouth of the tunnel. These rails have a hypnotic attraction and even the most laconic among the viewers will be forced to stare at the small but very dense spot of darkness that lies right of centre of the massive photograph. It imperceptibly encourages the viewer to embark on a journey into the unknown that might not be as brightly lit as the safety of the railway station. Or one would be tempted to discuss the equally fabulous but possibly much starker interplay of light and shade in Campo Santo Pisa where rows of pink chairs, brighter near the viewer but progressively less bright as the depth increases right into the frescoed walls, give an eerie sensation of a vast multitude of audience that have simply melted into thin air at the wave of the magic wand of some immensely powerful magician. The seats emanate warmth of human presence but none can be located and one almost tends to crane into the photograph to locate at least one human being. The walls, illuminated in patches and only at a certain height, give an impression of a solid construction that was withstood the ravages of time and has been a witness to many ebbs and flows of enormous river of time. If one likes to escape the rough cut minimalist backdrop of such a picture, one can always take a look at BNF Paris XX with its circular skylights more like unblinking eyes of some giant taking in every little bit of the rich detail that lies in the cavernous interiors that sport brightly lit ruby coloured walls beneath exquisitely carved but dimly lit arches. The bright green flooring and canary yellow partitions create a unique tapestry of colours forms and shades of light and darkness to give the whole picture a grand ambience that resembled the opulence of Greek and Roman courts. The whole scene throbs with vitality – the empty chairs and tables eagerly wait for their occupants who might have just left and could return any moment. This is the beauty of Candida’s work – she stirs the imagination of the viewer and sits back with a dispassionate detachment while the viewer revels in each discovery and every new emotion that her works generate. (Institute of Contemporary Art, 2006) But it would be a very great mistake if one does not discuss a little about magnificent photographs of libraries that Candida Höfer has presented the world to look at marvel. Each of these photographs is so vivid and rich in colour that the inanimate objects gain a life of their own in a world where humans are a dispensable lot. The spiral cast iron ruby red staircase that rises from the spotlessly clean bright yellow floor to the highest balcony in Handelingenkamer Tweede Kamer Der Staten actually has a life of its own and seems to signify the collective thirst of knowledge of the entire mankind. Or take a look at The Trinity College Library in Dublin with its rows and rows of brightly lit shelves full of books neatly arranged in alcoves beneath shapely arches supporting a rich brown dimly lit carved roof giving an impression of a vast cathedral waiting for the toll of the big bell that must be hanging in some imaginary gothic perch. The photograph of Real Gabinete Portugues De Leitura is possibly the most gorgeous with rows and rows of books arranged three gigantic stacks high being bathed in various shades of red, green and yellow – each mingling imperceptibly into other and giving an instant impression of a giant armada waiting for the instruction to surge forward. The ornate tables and chairs in the foreground possibly signify the indomitable desire of learning that humans as a race possess since human civilisation took its first uncertain steps towards future. The entire gothic architecture of the photograph is curiously counterbalanced by the bland yet vivid blue screen of a monitor standing on a milky white CPU. Maybe Candida wanted to make a statement or possibly effortlessly merged the past and the present with an eye to the future. One look at the photographs and the viewer feels tempted to get into the scene and sit in a chair and thumb through one of the tomes. The viewer becomes involved in a surreptitious game of hide-and-seek with himself in the lights and shadows that are woven in spellbinding artistry beneath magnificent arches and gothic architecture. Candida has an elemental attachment with architecture, especially spaces within a building and she creates magic with surface, forms, light and colour. Though she relies mostly on naturally available light she does not hesitate to employ artificial lighting if that is need to accentuate the edges as it were as has been extensively done while taking photographs of world famous libraries. Light in her opinion is an integral part of the internal architecture but surely none would ever say that she merely documents what is there without interpreting it in her way through the lens of a camera. She effectively tries to recapture and immortalise the ambience in the room she is taking pictures of by permitting complete aesthetic autonomy of the available structure without presence of human forms to distract and upset the equilibrium of the entire setup. Yet a library full of books neatly arranged in book shelves and rows after rows of empty chairs and tables and contrasting architecture, all tell a story – a story of progress of human civilisation through numerous twists and turns of history. The social spaces that libraries usually are is given a dynamic dimension by juxtaposing books, architecture, period furniture and a desktop PC all in one frame implying the change that is bound to occur with the passage of time. Tadao Ando Tadao Ando is a Japanese architect who has created a name for himself by combining the minimalist nature of modern western form of architecture with the Japanese finesse of marrying functionality with spatial narrative that allows free interplay of light and air without compromising safety and security of the building or its occupants. Tadao Ando prefers man-made architecture to follow the natural landscape instead of landscape being altered to suit the designs of buildings. He believes this lends harmony and a sense of stability to these buildings as they blend in the backdrop without sticking out like sore thumbs. His Row House in Sumiyoshi effectively incorporates open spaces within the main structure without sacrificing either functionality or security of the inmates. Another world famous Tadao Ando architecture is housing complex at Rokko that survived unscathed the devastating Great Hanshin Earthquake in 1995. These houses sublimely interpolated open and closed spaces and woven a marvellous warp and weave of light and darkness. The overwhelming presence of Japanese sparseness and the free flow of light and air give Ando’s creations an unprecedented sense of freedom – a feeling of being at peace with nature while enjoying the safety of exposed cast-in-place concrete that he prefers in all his constructions. But one needs to visit his most famous creation, Church of the Light in Osaka, to get a genuine idea about how committed this architect is about letting light and air play a predominant role in his architecture. The chapel consists of three cubes that are pierced by a wall inclined at fifteen degrees. The wall, however, never touches any other walls and is a clever piece of architecture that allows uninterrupted air circulation in this otherwise closed space where a reasonably large number of people are expected to congregate. The walls are made of heavy cast-in-place concrete and create a highly isolated cocoon of calm amidst the sea of metropolitan hustle and bustle just across the not so wide street. It was necessary to carve out a piece of religious introspection right in the heart of a very busy city. A worshipper does not get direct entry into the main hall – he or she has to take an S-turn thus further allowing the worshipper to momentarily disassociate from the mundane daily grind and giving the faithful a chance to concentrate on the supreme. The eastern wall of the main hall has a massive cruciform cut into the solid concrete wall from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling and as the sun rises, sunlight pours in through this massive cross giving an otherworldly feeling to the worshippers. Somehow one gets carried away by the awesome mingling of the solid in the form of 15 inches thick concrete walls and the light that filters through 20 cm cruciform cut in the wall which creates an all enveloping backdrop of all worship and all sermon that human race is capable of. The walls are uncluttered by any ornamentation or beautification and the internal austerity is further accentuated by the almost glass like quality of the concrete walls on the sides that change in texture and shade as light keeps falling on them in varying intensity. The interiors are stark not so much as a pattern or design but more due to extreme paucity of funds that the parishioners faced while building the structure. The situation became so critical that Ando was at one point of time even thinking of doing it without the roof but timely donations ensured that the church got a roof but the pews were made from wood salvaged from concrete work and most unwittingly seamlessly merged with the starkness all around. (Ando, 2000) Though some worshippers and visitors have found the interiors claustrophobic and even profoundly disturbing, especially the gigantic cruciform that tends to intimidate into submission rather than generating a warm vibe of care and concern, many others have felt overwhelmed when they faced that giant cruciform gloriously illuminated by the rays of sun and blanking out every other scene from sight. It creates a perfect ambience for introspection and complete submission where one subconsciously starts uttering: And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.” And he replied: “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.” (Haskins, 2003) The emptiness that many find disturbing, create the perfect ambience for Ando to cross over in the realms of spiritual where he, and many others like him, find communion and introspection a much more fulfilling experience. He feels that the best time to enter the church is when the worshippers sing hymns. The melodic sounds of human chorus tend to reverberate in the closed space lending an aura of palpable divinity. It surely is a matter of great debate as to what generates a sense of surrender – the stark concrete walls or the light permeating through the cruciform but almost all worshippers tend to agree that it is a heavenly combination of both and the architectural genius of Tadao Ando has created an oasis of serenity and calm in the middle of chaos and cacophony that characterises every urban metropolis. The other remarkable characteristic of this church is that though it is for practitioners of a predominantly western religion, the church never loses its Japanese character that effortlessly marries form and functionality and has an inherent leaning towards sparseness where only what is absolutely necessary is included while shutting out all other unnecessary ornamentations. The uniqueness of Tadao Ando is his ability to effortlessly flit in and out of Japanese and western schools of architecture. Japanese architecture integrates with surrounding nature by incorporating open spaces in such a way that it becomes impossible to identify whether those open spaces are inside the architectural ambit or outside it. But western architecture mainly tends to isolate the structure from its immediate surroundings. Tadao Ando has become a rage in western hemisphere because of his ability to blend Japanese concepts with western materials and techniques of civil construction. (Rao, 2007) References: Afinogenov, G. (2008, March 31). Candida Höfer at Galerie Yvon Lambert, Paris. Retrieved May 5, 2009, from ART CAT: http://zine.artcat.com/2008/03/candida-hofer-at-galerie-yvon.php Ando, T. (2000, February 23). Church of the Light. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from Michelle Chan, M.Arch.I (M1), McGill University, Montreal, Quebec, Canada : http://www.arch.mcgill.ca/prof/mellin/arch671/winter2000/mchan/precedents/ando.html Cruickshank-Hagenbuckle, G. (2007, February). Candida Hofer. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from The Brooklyn Rail: http://www.brooklynrail.org/2007/02/artseen/hofer Emerson, R. W. (2009). The Problem. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from Read Print: http://www.readprint.com/work-674/Ralph-Waldo-Emerson Haskins, M. L. (2003, May 19). The gate of the year. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from Your Path to Transition - Piers Clement: http://www.geocities.com/piers_clement/gate.html Institute of Contemporary Art. (2006, March 1). Candida Höfer: Architecture of Absence. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from Institute of Contemporary Art: University of Pennsylvania: http://www.icaphila.org/exhibitions/past/hofer.php Jung, C. G. (1989). Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Vintage. KIMMELMAN, M. (2004, October 15). ART IN REVIEW; Candida Höfer. Retrieved May 5, 2009, from The New York Times: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C03E3DA173AF936A25753C1A9629C8B63 Krüger, M. (2007). Photography: Candida Hofer. Retrieved May 5, 2009, from Thames & Hudson 2007: http://thamesandhudson.com/books/Candida_Hofer/9780500542729.mxs/27/0/ Rao, A. (2007, April 12). Tadao Ando Talk Asia Interview. Retrieved May 6, 2009, from CNN.com: http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/04/11/talkasia.ando.script/index.html Read More