The Paris based photographer, Paul Muse (b.1961) has over twenty odd years of concentration on the craft and practice of photography under his belt. He has risen to a type of prominence in the dog eat dog world of street photography.
A scrutiny of his work on his ongoing daily website reveals an autobiographical project, a visual diary recalling tangentally the work of Ian Breakwell as well as other narratively inclined artists. One of the problems with the world these days is that any image from any place can be conjoured up on the monitor through the web. The trick is to bust through the inclination to do research on the web and just go out and take the damned images. Drunk, sober, stoned, it makes no difference. Night or day the guy is out there on the beat, pounding the streets. You want ironic and poetic? It's there. You want reflections and a type of wistfulness for things that can never happen? You got that too.
When text appears it is cropped or used in its entirety, with an ex-pat's sensibility. It is worth noting that Muse used to be a teacher of English as a Foreign Language and this sensitivity to the graphic representation of text in the world can be glimpsed.
A series of master classes with master printers when younger developed an eye for depth, tone, manipulation of saturation and dark moody shadows. These were not the only masters he learnt from on the route to discovering his own way.
Muse stands apart from mainstream photographers insofar as he knowingly occupies his own artistic and visual front line, doggedly returning from the front, time and time again. Why isn't he dead? We will never know. I think it is discipline and training. And having a poet's mind. I am the first to admit I know little of actual real poetry, but I think if one were to match Muse with a living writer in English, I would imagine Will Self would be a good match. There is tenderness in both in regards to their children for example, and a close up observational power. Trenchant scrutineers both.
It would be wrong however to call Muse a literary artist. He is a visual artist using the tools, strategies and communication channels that artists generally use. If they are at all savvy. Muse is pretty damned savvy and seems to live in a state of per ambulatory hyper awareness.
It is this restlessness that takes him past state sponsored signage and unsanctioned fragments including graffiti, torn posters, fliers and packaging graphics. Gritty parts of town.
Moving up a couple of social strata and we are presented with the illuminated signs and welcoming interiors of up market shops and boutiques. Artificial colour spills out onto damp pavements. Reflections of people and objects. Reversed fragmentation. Quite who or what is an actual solid presence rather than a reflection is something that requires some thought at times. Quite convincing hybrids loom close to the gaze.
Not all the daily images are of equal quality, which is inevitable if your aim is to put out an image day after day. And year after year. For ever. Is his ongoing task one of the longest on the web? Who knows? But it is quite an open thing to do; putting your development as photographer online. In cases such as this then it is the archive itself, the visual trove that should be regarded as the real artwork rather than individual items, although there are many separate sharp, witty, knowing and gemlike images.
I am rather amazed that he has time to organise everything though. His project is one of self portraiture essentially unfolding in real time.
Somewhere out there in cyber land there is a link to this work. It is www.yestodays.com I should go there if I were you.
Just a few corrections:
ReplyDeleteBorn in 1960, actually. After all I've gone through to clock up so many years, I'm damned if I'll let anyone get away with knocking one off.
Not at all prominent in this world or any other that I know of, and all the merrier for it, thank you. A bit of a dog, admittedly, but never ate another dog to the best of my knowledge. Camel, horse, frogs, snails et al. other stories of course.
I have never knowingly messed with Ian Breakwell's tangentials. Never even heard of him, acrtually, but I'm sure he's a very nice chap and well worth googling.
Are there really problems with the world these days? Is that really the way to spell "conjoured" ? No, I never was a teacher of English as a foreign language. English is not a foreign language. Moreover, I am neither a poet nor an artist, both careers requiring far too much in the way of work and marketing skills for my liking. I make my money (not my living) as a translator, specialising in the domains of art and marketing.
Never done any master classes in anything, but did have the pleasure of a year's evening classes in B&W printing with Georges Fèvre, a very nice chap, worth googling, and one from whom I learned a lot about how to charm the ladies.
Self portraiture? I have never even met Will, let alone taken a snap of him.
The address yestodays.com is going to fall dead soon. My daughter tells me it's a crappy name and I reckon she's right. So where in cyber land to look for my stuff after that? Time will tell. Or not, as the case may be.
Finally, as regards the question "Why is he not dead?" - I asked my doctor yesterday for his point of view and he confessed that he too is quite puzzled...