Hiroshi Sugimoto: Artist Profile

Hiroshi Sugimoto, a photographer of time and its elusive nature, works with a measured patience that borders on the monastic. His images, often characterised by a serene stillness and a profound engagement with history, explore themes of memory, perception, and the very nature of reality. Sugimoto is not simply a photographer; he is a conceptual artist who uses photography as his primary medium. His work is less about capturing a fleeting moment than about revealing the underlying structure of time itself, a structure he suggests exists as much within the artist as in the world outside. “Rather than the camera projecting the outside world onto film,” Sugimoto has said, “I am using it to project outward the world that exists inside me.”

Sugimoto's influences are diverse and far-reaching. He has spoken of his admiration for the Surrealists, particularly Man Ray, whose experimental techniques and exploration of the subconscious resonate with Sugimoto's own interest in the ephemeral. One can also detect echoes of the Minimalist artists, whose focus on essential forms and reduction to the fundamental elements of art finds a parallel in Sugimoto's stripped-down aesthetic. But perhaps the most significant influence on his work is the Zen philosophy that permeates Japanese culture. Sugimoto's images, with their emphasis on emptiness and the transient nature of existence, reflect a Zen sensibility that is both subtle and profound. "I'm interested in time," Sugimoto has said. "Time is invisible. I want to make it visible."

What is important about Sugimoto's work is precisely this attempt to visualise the invisible. His photographs are not simply representations of the world; they are meditations on the nature of perception and the passage of time. His Seascapes series, for example, begun in the 1970s and continuing for decades, depicts the ocean under varying conditions, each image a study in the subtle gradations of light and atmosphere. These photographs, often taken with long exposures, possess a timeless quality, suggesting an almost primordial state of being. They are not just images of the sea; they are images of time itself, a concept Sugimoto connects to the dawn of human consciousness. “Water and air,” Sugimoto once wrote, “two things that you can’t really capture with photography, are my subjects.”

Sugimoto's artistic career has been marked by this philosophical curiosity and a serial, analytical approach. His early work, including the Dioramas series, which he began in 1974, depicts museum dioramas with a hyperreal clarity, already hinted at his interest in the relationship between reality and representation. Through his large-format camera, the museums’ painted backdrops and taxidermied animals become enigmatically life-like. The Theatres series, perhaps his most iconic, comprises long exposure photographs made in classic movie houses. Each exposure, taken during a film’s projection, compresses time into a single image, producing a glowing white screen in the centre of a darkened theatre. More recent series, such as Portraits, made in wax museums, highlight how photography is used to record history and human nature. Architecture isolates the forms of modernist buildings, blurring the lines between time, memory, and history. In Praise of Shadow records a candle burning down, a long-exposure record of flickering light.

Sugimoto's interest in the fundamental rules of natural phenomena is a recurring theme. Conceptual Forms depicts mathematical models, while Lightning Fields translates early research in electricity into dramatic images by applying a 400,000-volt current directly to film. Opticks depicts the colour of light through a prism, drawing from early experiments with the science of light. His work is marked by this exploration of both the scientific and the metaphysical.

Sugimoto's exhibitions, too, are significant, often featuring large-scale prints. One recalls the hushed atmosphere of his installations, the way his photographs command a space. Recent exhibitions include a major retrospective at the Hayward Gallery in London and Hiroshi Sugimoto Honkadori Azumakudari at the Shoto Museum of Art in Tokyo. His work is increasingly celebrated in both the East and West.

Sugimoto's work challenges the notion of photography as purely representational, pushing it into conceptual art. His images are about the ideas they embody, philosophical inquiries into time, perception, and existence. As Arthur Danto observed, "Sugimoto's photographs are not simply beautiful; they are also profound." His influence can be seen in artists exploring the relationship between photography, time, and memory.

Sugimoto's legacy is one of quiet contemplation and insight. He has shown us that photography can explore the deepest questions of human existence. His images, with their beauty and intellectual rigour, will continue to challenge and inspire. "I want to make photographs that transcend time," Sugimoto has said. This desire to capture the essence of time drives his work. His photographs, with their timeless quality and engagement with fundamental questions, stand as a testament to art's power to illuminate the mysteries of the universe. Beyond photography, Sugimoto has explored architecture, designing the Enoura Observatory for his Odawara Art Foundation, a space that itself engages with time and natural phenomena. His 68-foot sculpture Point of Infinity on Yerba Buena Island in San Francisco further demonstrates his engagement with space and time on a grand scale. Sugimoto's work, encompassing photography, architecture, and sculpture, reveals a consistent preoccupation with the fundamental nature of reality, the ephemeral nature of time, and the ways in which we perceive and experience the world around us. His legacy lies not only in the beauty of his individual images, but in the profound questions they pose about existence itself. He has expanded the possibilities of photography, transforming it into a medium for philosophical inquiry and artistic exploration, leaving a lasting mark on the landscape of contemporary art.

Bernd and Hilla Becher : Artist Profile

Bernd and Hilla Becher, a collaborative force in the world of photography, embarked on a project that redefined the very notion of photographic representation. Their work, a meticulous and dispassionate cataloguing of industrial structures, transformed the way we perceive both the landscape and the camera's capacity to document it. They were not, perhaps, artists in the conventional sense, but rather chroniclers, driven by an almost scientific impulse to classify and preserve a disappearing world. Their black and white images, devoid of dramatic lighting or sentimental framing, presented blast furnaces, water towers, grain elevators, and other functional structures with an austere beauty that resonated far beyond the realms of documentary photography.  

The Bechers' project began in the late 1950s, a time when photography was moving beyond the pictorialism that had dominated its early years. They were influenced, perhaps, by the New Objectivity movement in German art of the 1920s, which championed a realistic and unidealised representation of the world. One might also detect echoes of August Sander's ambitious project to document the German people through portraiture, though the Bechers' focus was on the industrial landscape rather than the human face. They sought, as they often stated, to create an objective record, a typology of industrial forms. “We don’t have any message,” Bernd Becher once said. “We are only interested in the object.” This seemingly simple statement belies the profound impact of their work.  

What is important about the Bechers' work lies precisely in this self-imposed limitation. By stripping away subjective interpretation and focusing on the pure form of their subjects, they revealed the inherent beauty and complexity of these often-overlooked structures. They presented these industrial behemoths not as symbols of progress or pollution, but as objects worthy of attention in their own right. Their photographs, often presented in grids of similar structures, emphasised the variations within a type, revealing the subtle design choices and functional adaptations that shaped each individual building. This typological approach, reminiscent of scientific classification, allowed viewers to see the underlying logic and evolution of industrial architecture. “We wanted to make the object speak,” Hilla Becher explained. “We didn’t want to add anything.”  

The Bechers' work evolved over the course of their career, though their fundamental approach remained consistent. They refined their technique, achieving a remarkable clarity and depth of field in their images. They also expanded their geographical scope, documenting industrial structures not just in Germany, but also in other parts of Europe and North America. Their early work focused primarily on the heavy industry of the Ruhr Valley, the heartland of German industrial production. Later, they turned their attention to other types of structures, such as water towers and grain elevators, broadening their survey of the industrial landscape. While their subject matter expanded, their photographic style remained remarkably consistent, a testament to their unwavering commitment to their chosen method.  

The Bechers published a number of influential books throughout their career, each one a meticulously crafted collection of their photographs. Anonymous Sculpture (1970) was an early and important work, showcasing their typological approach to industrial structures. Other significant publications include Blast Furnaces (1971), Water Towers (1988), and Grain Elevators (1997). These books, with their stark black and white images and minimal text, became essential references for architects, artists, and anyone interested in the built environment. Their exhibitions, too, were significant events, often featuring large grids of photographs that transformed the gallery space into a kind of industrial museum. One recalls the austere beauty of their installations, the sheer number of images creating a powerful cumulative effect.  

The Bechers' work occupies a unique place in the history of photography and art. It challenged the traditional notions of artistic expression, blurring the lines between documentary photography and fine art. Their influence can be seen in the work of many contemporary photographers, particularly those who explore the relationship between landscape, architecture, and industrialisation. Their work also resonated with artists working in other media, influencing conceptual art and minimalism. One might argue that their detached, objective approach paved the way for a new kind of photographic practice, one that prioritised concept and documentation over subjective expression. As the art critic and curator Douglas Fogle noted, "The Bechers’ photographs are not simply documents of industrial structures; they are also meditations on the nature of representation itself."  

The Bechers' influence is vast and continues to grow. They have inspired generations of photographers to look at the world with fresh eyes, to see the beauty in the mundane and the significance in the seemingly insignificant. Their students at the Düsseldorf Art Academy, including photographers such as Andreas Gursky, Thomas Struth, and Candida Höfer, have gone on to become major figures in contemporary photography, each developing their own distinct style while sharing a common interest in the objective representation of the world. While not explicitly acknowledging the Bechers as an influence, one can see a certain kinship in the work of these artists, a shared commitment to clarity, precision, and the exploration of the contemporary landscape.  

The Bechers' legacy lies in their profound impact on the way we perceive the world around us. They taught us to see the beauty and complexity in the industrial landscape, to appreciate the ingenuity and functionality of the structures that shape our lives. Their work is a testament to the power of photography to document, to classify, and to reveal the hidden order of things. They transformed the way we think about photography, moving it beyond the realm of personal expression and into the realm of objective observation. "They are not artists in the traditional sense," wrote the critic and curator Jeff Wall, "but their work is art, of a very high order." This assessment captures the essence of the Bechers' contribution, their ability to transcend the conventional categories of art and photography and create a body of work that is both aesthetically compelling and historically significant. Their photographs, with their stark beauty and unwavering focus, stand as a powerful reminder of the industrial age and its enduring impact on the world we inhabit.