Stephen Shore: Artist Profile

Stephen Shore, a photographer whose quiet, observant vision has profoundly shaped our understanding of the American landscape, holds a unique position in the history of the medium. He's not a purveyor of the spectacular or the conventionally picturesque. Instead, he finds a quiet poetry in the everyday, revealing the extraordinary within the seemingly mundane. His early colour photographs, in particular, are characterized by a remarkable stillness, a precise attention to detail, and a deep appreciation for the vernacular. Gas stations, parking lots, roadside motels, and the interiors of unassuming diners are all treated with the same level of visual consideration typically reserved for more traditionally "beautiful" subjects. Often devoid of human figures, his images nevertheless speak volumes about contemporary life, the spaces we occupy, and the subtle shifts of time. They prompt contemplation, not through dramatic statements, but through a gentle, insistent invitation to look. Shore’s photography is less about the what and more about the how of seeing. He has expressed a fundamental interest “in the world, in how things look,” a deceptively simple statement that gets to the heart of his artistic project. He doesn’t impose meaning onto the world; he seeks to understand and articulate his own way of seeing it. His photographs are less about the objects they depict and more about the very act of perception.

Shore’s influences are diverse, spanning both photography and other artistic disciplines. He has cited Walker Evans as a significant inspiration, acknowledging the impact of Evans’s documentary approach and his ability to find beauty in the ordinary. He has also mentioned being influenced by both good and bad photography as a young man, including commercial photography magazines like Popular Photography. As a teenager, he even contacted Edward Steichen at the Museum of Modern Art, showing him his work. Steichen purchased three of his photographs. “I think I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know that you weren’t supposed to do this,” Shore explained. He described those early photographs as “not really very good,” and acknowledged other, less celebrated influences alongside Evans. “I had a lot of bad influences also. Aside from the good influences, like Walker Evans, I looked at the commercial photography magazines, as well.” These included publications like Popular Photography, demonstrating a wide-ranging curiosity and an openness to different visual languages. While Evans primarily worked in black and white, Shore embraced the potential of colour photography early in his career, recognizing its capacity to capture the subtle nuances of light, texture, and atmosphere. This choice, at a time when black and white was still the dominant mode for “serious” photography, was a bold move that distinguished Shore’s work. He also shares a sensibility with the New Topographics photographers, including Robert Adams, in their shared focus on the contemporary landscape, though Shore’s work is less overtly driven by social or political critique. His perspective is more purely observational, less concerned with explicit judgments about the environment.  

The importance of Shore’s work lies in its quiet subversion of photographic conventions, its subtle recalibration of how we perceive the world. He challenged established ideas about what constituted a suitable subject for photographic representation, elevating the commonplace to the realm of art. His images aren't about the spectacular or the sensational; they are about the act of looking and the process of reflection. They encourage us to decelerate, to attend to the details we so often overlook, and to discover the inherent beauty of the everyday. His photographs, as he describes them, “were not about what was in front of me, but about my experience of it.” This emphasis on subjective experience, coupled with a sharp awareness of formal elements, allows Shore’s images to resonate on multiple levels. They are simultaneously descriptive and evocative, capturing the specificities of a particular time and place while hinting at larger themes of cultural identity, memory, and the very nature of human perception. He also challenges the tendency to categorize photography into rigid “isms,” suggesting that a single photograph can function in multiple ways: as an art object, a document, a formal exploration, and a resonant expression on a deeper, more personal level. “Why can’t a photograph be all four things at once?” he proposes.

Shore’s artistic trajectory has taken him from his initial explorations of the American landscape to a variety of other subjects and approaches. He has worked with portraiture, still life, and even ventured into abstraction, always maintaining his unique sensitivity to detail and his commitment to observation. However, it is his early work, particularly the series “American Surfaces,” that remains most iconic and influential. These photographs, made during a series of cross-country road trips in the 1970s, capture a specific moment in American history, a period of change and transition. They provide a portrait of a nation in flux, a visual record of the ordinary landscapes that shape our collective experience. “American Surfaces” was initially shown as small, Kodak-processed snapshots, before Shore decided to create larger prints. He found the 35mm film too grainy for the enlargements he envisioned and thus transitioned to a 4x5, and then an 8x10 camera. “It was never my intention to go to an 8x10,” he explained. “I mean it really was simply that I wanted to continue American Surfaces but with a larger negative.” He discovered that the larger format led him to “discover other things about photographic seeing that I wanted to explore.” This marked the beginning of a “kind of formal evolution” in his work, an unexpected development driven by a process of inquiry that unfolded as he worked. The view camera, with its ground glass and the necessity of using a tripod, pushed him towards more deliberate decisions about composition and framing. “You can’t sort of stand somewhere, and it is exactly where you want to be,” he observed. This methodical approach, combined with the expense of film and processing, fostered within him “a kind of taste for certainty.” He also reflected on his time at Warhol’s Factory, noting the work ethic and openness of Warhol’s artistic process. “Andy was very open about his process,” Shore recalled. “What I saw every day was someone making aesthetic decisions.” He observed that while his commercial work taught him the value of collaboration, his personal artistic practice is a solitary pursuit. He also spoke of the influence of Warhol’s fascination with everyday culture, a sensibility that resonated with his own artistic leanings. “Andy may have been more…cynical than I am. But he took pleasure in the culture. He was just amazed at how things just are.”  

Shore’s books have been crucial in disseminating his work and solidifying his reputation. “American Surfaces,” published in 1999, is a landmark publication, compiling many of his most recognizable images from the 1970s. The book is more than a mere collection of photographs; it is a meticulously sequenced journey through the American landscape, a visual narrative that unfolds with each page turn. “Uncommon Places” is another important collection of his large-format colour photographs. Shore explained that the 1982 edition of Uncommon Places was incomplete. “I knew that there were a lot more—I mean a lot more [photographs]—that ought to be in it.” The expanded edition includes a greater number of interiors and portraits, more accurately reflecting the range of his photographic interests during that period. “The original gave a false impression of what was going on in the work,” he said. He also discussed the book’s structure, noting that it is not strictly chronological but rather organized around distinct photographic trips. This structure was intended to highlight a stylistic evolution, which he believes is intrinsically linked to personal growth. The inclusion of portraits in the expanded Uncommon Places is particularly noteworthy. Shore explained that these portraits were not intended as in-depth character studies, but rather as “surfaces, as cultural artifacts.” He also pointed out that using a tripod for portraiture created a different dynamic with his subjects, allowing him to focus more intently on their expressions and the specific moment of the photograph. “I can pay more attention to them, because I’m not seeing them through a viewfinder, I’m seeing them with my eyes, and I’m choosing the moment just with my eyes, without a camera in between.” He also spoke about his “Conceptual work,” which explored serial imagery and systematic approaches to photography. He cited the influence of John Coplans’s Serial Imagery and his interactions with conceptual artists, while emphasizing his own background as a photographer and the importance of visual meaning in his work. “I thought I could bring something visual to a concept,” he explained.  

Shore’s exhibitions have also been critical in establishing his place within the art world. His work has been displayed in major museums and galleries internationally, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, and the Art Institute of Chicago. A significant retrospective of his work at the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles in 2007 further cemented his position as one of the most significant photographers of his generation. These exhibitions have provided viewers with the opportunity to experience the breadth of Shore’s oeuvre, from his early snapshots to his more recent projects.

Shore’s work occupies a complex and nuanced position within the history of photography. He is part of a lineage of photographers who have explored the American landscape, from the 19th-century pioneers to the documentary photographers of the 20th century. However, he also distinguishes himself from these traditions, forging his own unique path. His use of colour, his focus on the quotidian, and his quiet, observational style have all contributed to a fresh way of perceiving the world.

William Klein: Artist Profile

William Klein, a name synonymous with a raw, visceral, and often confrontational style of street photography, remains a pivotal figure. He wasn’t interested in the polite, the picturesque, or the perfectly composed. Instead, he embraced the chaotic energy of urban life: the blur, the grain, the awkward angles, and the sheer messiness of the world. His work, particularly his early street photography, crackles with a restless energy, a sense of immediacy that continues to resonate. He wasn’t a detached observer, but an active participant, his camera a weapon, a tool for exploration, and a means of engaging with the world on his own terms. “I was a kind of anti-photographer,” Klein once said, “I was going against all the rules.” This rebellious spirit is evident in every frame. As he later reflected, “I’m an outsider, I guess. I wasn’t part of any movement. I was working alone, following my instinct. I had no real respect for good technique because I didn’t know what it was. I was self-taught, so that stuff didn’t matter to me.”  

Klein’s influences are complex and, perhaps characteristically, somewhat contradictory. He wasn’t formally trained as a photographer. His background was in painting, studying with Fernand Léger in Paris. This artistic foundation undoubtedly shaped his visual approach, giving him a keen sense of composition, even when seemingly abandoning traditional rules. Léger, as Klein recalled, “told us not to worry about galleries and collectors, but to go out onto the city streets and paint murals.” It was while photographing some of his interior murals, “big hard-edged geometrical paintings,” that Klein had an epiphany. “Somebody turned one of the panels when I was shooting on a long exposure, and when I developed the photographs this already abstract shape was a beautiful blur. That blur was a revelation. I thought, here’s a way of talking about life. Through photography, you can really talk about what you see around you. That’s what I’ve been doing ever since.” One can see echoes of the bold lines and dynamic forms of Léger's work in Klein’s own compositions, albeit translated into the language of photography. However, Klein’s real education came from the streets, from the raw energy of New York City in the 1950s. He cites Weegee, the tabloid photographer known for his gritty depictions of crime scenes and urban life, as a key inspiration. “Weegee showed me that photography could be tough,” Klein said. But Klein’s work goes beyond Weegee’s sensationalism. He adds a layer of social commentary, a sense of irony, and a distinctly modern aesthetic.  

What sets Klein apart is his unflinching gaze, his willingness to confront the viewer with the raw reality of urban existence. His photographs are often confrontational, sometimes even aggressive. They capture the chaos, the noise, the sheer overwhelmingness of city life. In his iconic series “Life is Good & Good for You in New York,” the city becomes a stage for a kind of urban theatre, populated by characters who are both ordinary and extraordinary. The images are often close-up, sometimes blurred, capturing fleeting moments of interaction, expressions of joy, despair, and everything in between. “I wanted to show the city as I saw it,” Klein explained, “not as it should be.” This desire to capture the unvarnished truth, to embrace the imperfections and contradictions of urban life, is what makes his work so powerful. He wasn’t interested in creating a sanitised version of reality, but rather a visceral and immediate experience of the city. As he put it, “People said, ‘What a put-down — New York is not like that. New York is a million things, and you just see the seamy side.’” His view of New York, as he confessed, was that it was “like a big shithouse.”

Klein’s work evolved over the course of his career, moving beyond the raw immediacy of his early street photography. He ventured into fashion photography, bringing his distinctive style to the pages of Vogue. Even in this commercial context, he retained his rebellious spirit, pushing the boundaries of the genre. His fashion photographs are often dynamic, energetic, and sometimes even humorous, a far cry from the static and posed images that were typical at the time. He used wide-angle lenses, unusual perspectives, and blurred motion, creating a sense of immediacy and excitement. As Dorothy McGowan, a Vogue model who worked with Klein, recalled, “People were terrified of him, as though it was the lion’s den.” Klein himself acknowledged, “They were probably the most unpopular fashion photographs Vogue ever published.” This willingness to experiment and to challenge conventions is a hallmark of Klein’s work, regardless of the subject matter. He even made a film about the fashion world, “Who Are You, Polly Maggoo?”, which, as he recalled, “was completely foreign to the whole movie scene here in France.” Later, he made documentaries on figures like Muhammad Ali and Little Richard, drawn, as he said, to “great characters.”

His books are as important to his oeuvre as his individual photographs. “Life is Good & Good for You in New York,” published in 1956, is considered a landmark in the history of photobooks. Its raw energy, its unconventional layout, and its unflinching portrayal of urban life made it a radical departure from the prevailing aesthetic of the time. The book itself becomes a kind of extension of Klein’s photographic practice, a dynamic and immersive experience for the viewer. Other notable books include “Tokyo” (1964) and “Moscow” (1964), both of which capture the unique character of these cities through Klein’s distinctive lens. These books are not simply collections of photographs; they are visual essays, capturing the spirit and energy of a place. As he described his approach to his books, “The sequencing of the New York book, and even the composition of individual images, also seems to owe something to comic-books.” His first book, however, met with resistance. “They just didn’t get it,” he said of the initial reaction to “Life is Good & Good for You in New York.” “They thought it should not have been published, that it was vulgar and somehow sinned against the great sacred tradition of the photography book. They were annoyed for sure.”  

Klein’s exhibitions have also played a significant role in shaping his reputation. His work has been shown in major museums and galleries around the world. One particularly important exhibition was his retrospective at the International Center of Photography in New York in 1996. This exhibition brought together a wide range of his work, from his early street photography to his fashion work and his films, providing a comprehensive overview of his career. It highlighted the diversity of his practice and his consistent willingness to challenge conventions. Even in his exhibitions, Klein sought to create a dynamic and engaging experience for the viewer, reflecting the energy and immediacy of his photography. More recently, a joint retrospective with Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama at Tate Modern explored the similarities in their depictions of New York and Tokyo. Klein, however, remained characteristically nonchalant about the exhibition. “I think it’s kind of stupid,” he said, shrugging, “but a lot of things happen without me really being involved. There’s a connection all right, but…”

Klein’s work sits squarely within the tradition of street photography, but it also transcends it. He shares with photographers like Henri Cartier-Bresson a fascination with the decisive moment, but his approach is radically different. While Cartier-Bresson sought to capture the perfect composition, the harmonious balance of form and content, Klein embraced the chaos and the unpredictability of the street. His work is more akin to that of Robert Frank, whose book “The Americans” also challenged the conventions of the time, but Klein’s work has a distinct energy, a sense of urgency that is all his own. “I’m not a documentarian,” Klein has said. “I’m an artist. I’m interested in my own vision of the world.”

Klein’s influence can be seen in the work of many photographers who followed. His bold use of composition, his willingness to embrace the imperfections of the medium, and his unflinching portrayal of urban life have all had a lasting impact. While it's difficult to pinpoint specific individuals, his influence is more pervasive, a kind of spirit of rebellion that encourages photographers to break the rules, to challenge conventions, and to find their own unique voice. He showed that photography could be more than just a record of reality; it could be a powerful means of expression, a way to engage with the world on a personal and visceral level.

William Klein’s legacy is one of innovation, experimentation, and a relentless pursuit of his own vision. He wasn’t afraid to challenge the established norms of photography, to push the boundaries of the medium, and to capture the world as he saw it, in all its messy, chaotic, and often beautiful complexity. His work continues to inspire and provoke, reminding us that photography can be a powerful tool for exploring the world around us and for engaging with the human experience in all its richness and diversity. He showed us that the streets can be a gallery and that life itself is the greatest subject of all. As Orson Welles said of Klein’s film “Broadway by Light,” “the first film I've seen in which colour was absolutely necessary.” This sense of innovation and pushing boundaries is a hallmark of Klein’s entire oeuvre, from his early street photography to his fashion work and his films.

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.