Copying Nature According to Maillol

During a visit to Museé Maillol on rue de Grenelle in Paris, I took note of a statement the artist had made about his understanding of art. It read:

                                   “Art does not lie in the copying of nature”

I had not thought about that quote until recently I was at a museum of modern arts in Vienna and was attracted to an iron/bronze statue. It was a statue of a woman, seen under the modernist art. And since my favorite statue by Aristide Maillol is Air displayed on the grounds of the Kröller-Müller Museum, his statement about copying nature came back to mind.

Indeed, the grace of the Maillol statue compared to the harshness and “unnatural” dimensions of the one in the Vienna museum made me think about the role of a street photographer focusing on people as primary subjects.

This question is of special relevance to a photographer like me who does not use digital media hence does not manipulate the original picture. I say “picture” not “photo” because for me a photograph is still synonymous with the chemical reaction light has with silver halide crystals on photographic film.

So, if I take a photo of a woman, am I copying nature? Should I transform the appearance of the woman, as the artist did for the statue in Vienna to make it real art?

Or is “nature” different from “natural”? Perhaps it is the interaction of forms, colors, attitudes and expectations that define nature for Maillol. Not just the appearance. After all, is a landscape photographer duplicating nature of going beyond the facsimili process?

I will start me exploration about this with a photo I took of graffiti:

Indeed “So What?” Can it be that copying nature has enough artfulness to be called art?

Let me make clear: my understanding of “copying nature” during street photography is by making sure that the scene is unaffected by my presence. As such, I never take pictures of people as in the photo below!

So, how many human forms are in the next photo I took during a parade? The look of the man with the sword makes the take, but the pensive face of the woman takes us beyond the historic uniforms and parade. What is she thinking? The role of women in the uniformed services? Her grandparents?

I like capturing body language without relying on the face to tell me what people think. Consider this photo I took at a museum. The faces of the two women on the painting have now new bodies, all dressed up in winter clothing. The Gauginesque moment cuts now through continents and time. Yet, I just copied what the moment offered.

This man in a Christmas Market is anachronistic. His clothing and his beard put us outside the electric cars and smart phones that surrounded him. It is him and the Christmas tree. He is an island; he is deep in thought. Yet, he is unchanged by my 1950s Leica lens or 100 ASA Croatian B&W film. He is who he is.

Finally, I think one difference between a sculptor and a photographer is that the latter can wait for a natural composition to organize itself. A sculptor has one subject (most of the time) and has to let it be amenable enough to find a niche in an environment where it belongs, post becoming a statue. A photographer is the voyeur who, through experience, can anticipate a composition, waits till the pieces come together and clicks.

Most importantly, the scene, subject and composition captured by the photographer disappear the moment he clicks. It is a whole new world a split second later.

A statue remains unchanged for, almost, forever.

Perhaps in that way the art of a sculptor is different from copying nature. It remains unchanged.

February 11, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017