A Different Way to See the World
A Different Way to See the World
Tonight Wen and I went to see Manufactured Landscapes, a film that chronicles the work of the Canadian photographer Edward Burtynsky (it's also the name of a retrospective book).
The
movie was great-particularly the opening scene. In it, the camera
rolls the entire length of a seemingly endless (and endlessly boring)
Chinese factory; they appeared to make irons and motors for fans.
The
movie as a whole is like Burtynsky's works: it chronicles moments, but
does not pass judgment. Here's how Burtynsky describes his own
work:
Nature
transformed through industry is a predominant theme in my work. I
set course to intersect with a contemporary view of the great ages of
man; from stone, to minerals, oil, transportation, silicon, and so
on. To make these ideas visible I search for subjects that are
rich in detail and scale yet open in their meaning. Recycling
yards, mine tailings, quarries and refineries are all places that are
outside of our normal experience, yet we partake of their output on a
daily basis.
These
images are meant as metaphors to the dilemma of our modern existence;
the search for a dialogue between attraction and repulsion, seduction
and fear. We are drawn by desire - a chance at good living, yet
we are consciously or unconsciously aware that the world is suffering
for our success. Our dependence on nature to provide the
materials for our consumption and our concern for the health of our
planet sets us into an uneasy contradiction. For me, these images
function as reflecting pools of our times.
The
filmmakers followed Burtynsky on various journeys over the past few
years: Azerbaijan, Bangladesh and China (many times). Almost as
interesting as the photos is the scene behind the scene. For
instance, the photo below (of a man leading a donkey through a town
being destroyed brick by brick to make way for flooding by China's
Three Gorges dam) is staged: in one scene we see Burtynsky's assistant
pay him a few yuan after the photo.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007