Tuesday Reads: Andy Warhol
Two slices, 2020 © Sigurd Grunberger
“What I look for in a collaborator is a certain degree of misunderstanding about the things I do. Not a substantial misunderstanding: a few little misunderstandings here and there. When someone doesn’t quite get what I want from them, or when they haven’t heard what I’ve told them to do clearly enough, or when the recording hasn’t turned out well, or when their fantasies start to come out, I often find that I like what emerges better than my original idea.”
There might be a reason why photographers tend to avoid collaborations with their colleagues, unless the affinity with the other party is perceived as shatterproof and multilayered. The foundation for a long-lasting successful partnership, after all, appears to lie on so many pillars that one ends up surrendering before even trying to establish one. And given these premises, fine-art photographers have come to be known as lone wolves–entities that not only enjoy their solitude, but at times even cherish it.
While photographers working on a set, either for the production of fashion or still life advertisements, are required to collaborate with professionals contributing their complementary know-how to the shooting–think of make-up artists, DoPs, stylists, hairdressers and focus-pullers involved–documentary and fine-art photographers, who do not need such an entourage, often work on their own and reject a priori any cooperation with fellow creatives. Such approach to work has come to be quite established, to the point that collaborations are often perceived as a risk to contaminate the concept of a project, losing authority on the final message and form. And a lot of value might be lost in the process: it might be reasonable to re-evaluate our collective perspective on this matter.
The day you were born, I wasn't born yet © Kai Yokoyama
As Warhol states with an exceptionally clear vision, in fact, the added value of collaborating with a fellow artist might be found more in the slight incomprehensions, in those details that–by getting lost in translation–are effortlessly transformed into something new and unexpected. Such perspective on the matter contradicts precisely the preconception due to which partnerships are avoided: the idea that, in order for the outcome to be consistent, communication must occur clearly and avert uncomfortable confrontations.
First of all, the right kind of inconsistency, driven by curiosity and lightness but governed with awareness, lays fertile ground for artistic experimentation and unexpected interpretation. By leaving space for a subjective attempt to make sense of it and turn incoherence into consistency, both artists are driven to go a step further and explore their message in depth.
Moreover, uncomfortable confrontations are foundational to the construction of a profound and solid body of work. And while our subconscious tends to seek opinions that confirm our beliefs–some call this tendency confirmation bias–collaborations require a mutual willingness to build a common ground out of contrasting ideas. A common ground which can only prosper by relying on solid principles, ingrained and refined to the point of resisting to any enquiry coming from the other party.
State of things, das universum, 2020 © Sigurd Grunberger
Just like many other opportunities missed out of fear or closed-mindedness, the possibilities to collaborate and test our ideas in a propositive setting lie behind every corner. Each and every conversation with a creative we admire is the most suitable situation to build something together. It just takes a small leap of faith. It just takes a smile and some openness: “I find your perspective to be really valuable. I am curious about your take on some issues, would you be open to discuss them together?” Et voilà. It’s in our hands.
