or
“There is Only the Desert for You.”
BY DREW HAMMOND
Stefanie Schneider’s Till Death to Us Part is a love narrative that comprises three elements:
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A montage of still images shot and elaborated by means of her signature technique of using Polaroid formats with outdated and degraded film stock in natural light, with the resulting images re-photographed (by other means) enlarged and printed in such a way as to generate further distortions of the image.
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Dated Super 8 film footage without a sound track and developed by the artist.
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Recorded off-screen narration of texts written by the actors or photographic subjects, and selected by the artist.
At
the outset, this method presupposes a tension between still and moving
image; between the conventions about the juxtaposition of such images
in a moving image presentation; and, and a further tension between the
work’s juxtaposition of sound and image, and the conventional
relationship between sound and image that occurs in the majority of
films. But Till Death Do Us Part also conduces to an implied synthesis of still and moving image by the manner in which the artist edits or cuts the work.
First,
she imposes a rigorous criterion of selection, whether to render a
section as a still or moving image. The predominance of still images is
neither an arbitrary residue of her background as a still
photographer—in fact she has years of background in film projects; nor
is it a capricious reaction against moving picture convention that
demands more moving images than stills. Instead, the number of still
images has a direct thematic relation to the fabric of the love story
in the following sense. Stills, by definition, have a very different
relationship to time than do moving images. The unedited moving shot
occurs in real time, and the edited moving shot, despite its artificial
rendering of time, all too often affords the viewer an even greater
illusion of experiencing reality as it unfolds. It is self-evident that
moving images overtly mimic the temporal dynamic of reality.
Frozen
in time—at least overtly—still photographic images pose a radical
tension with real time. This tension is all the more heightened by
their “real” content, by the recording aspect of their constitution.
But precisely because they seem to suspend time, they more naturally
evoke a sense of the past and of its inherent nostalgia. In this way,
they are often more readily evocative of other states of experience of
the real, if we properly include in the real our own experience of the
past through memory, and its inherent emotions.
This attribute of stills is the real criterion of their selection in Till Death Do Us Part
where consistently, the artist associates them with desire, dream,
memory, passion, and the ensemble of mental states that accompany a
love relationship in its nascent, mature, and declining aspects.
It
is noteworthy that, after a transition from a still image to a moving
image, as soon as the viewer expects the movement to continue, there is
a “logical” cut that we expect to result in another moving image, not
only because of its mise en scène, but also because of its implicit
respect of traditional rules of film editing, its planarity, its sight
line, its treatment of 3D space—all these lead us to expect that the
successive shot, as it is revealed, is bound to be another moving
image. But contrary to our expectation, and in delayed reaction, we are
startled to find that it is another still image.
One
effect of this technique is to reinforce the tension between still and
moving image by means of surprise. But in another sense, the technique
reminds us that, in film, the moving image is also a succession of
stills that only generate an illusion of movement. Although it is a
fact that here the artist employs Super 8 footage, in principle, even
were the moving images shot with video, the fact would remain since
video images are all reducible to a series of discrete still images no
matter how “seamless” the transitions between them.
Yet
a third effect of the technique has to do with its temporal
implication. Often art aspires to conflate or otherwise distort time.
Here, instead, the juxtaposition poses a tension between two times: the
“real time” of the moving image that is by definition associated with
reality in its temporal aspect; and the “frozen time” of the still
image associated with an altered sense of time in memory and fantasy of
the object of desire—not to mention the unreal time of the sense of the
monopolization of the gaze conventionally attributed to the
photographic medium, but which here is associated as much with the
yearning narrator as it is with the viewer.
In
this way, the work establishes and juxtaposes two times for two levels
of consciousness, both for the narrator of the story and, implicitly,
for the viewer:
A) the immediate experience of reality, and
B) the
background of reflective effects of reality, such as dream, memory,
fantasy, and their inherent compounding of past and present emotions.
In addition, the piece advances in the direction of a Gesamtkunstwerk, but in a way that reconsiders this synaesthesia as a unified complex of genres—not only because it uses new media that did not exist when the idea was first enunciated in Wagner’s time, but also because it comprises elements that are not entirely of one artist's making, but which are subsumed by the work overall. The totality remains the vision of one artist.
In this sense, Till Death Do Us Part reveals a further tension between the central intelligence of the artist and the products of other individual participants. This tension is compounded to the degree that the characters’ attributes and narrated statements are part fiction and part reality, part themselves, and part their characters. But Stefanie Schneider is the one who assembles, organizes, and selects them all.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THIS IDEA (above) AND PHOTOGRAPHY
The way Till Death Do Us Part expands this basic principle of the photographic act, is to apply it to further existing elements, and, similarly, to transform them. These additional existing elements include written or improvised pieces narrated by their authors in a way that shifts between their own identities and the identities of fictional characters. Such characters derive partially from their own identities by making use of real or imagined memories, dreams, fears of the future, genuine impressions, and emotional responses to unexpected or even banal events. There is also music, with voice and instrumental accompaniment. The music slips between integration with the narrative voices and disjunction, between consistency and tension. At times it would direct the mood, and at other times it would disrupt.
Despite that much of this material is made by others, it becomes, like the reality that is the raw material of an art photo, subsumed and transformed by the overall aesthetic act of the manner of its selection, distortion, organization, duration, and emotional effect.
* * *
David Lean was fond of saying that a love story is most effective in a squalid visual environment. In Till Death Do Us Part,
the squalor of the American desert violated by the detritus of
consumerism, cheap construction, and its unrelenting light, is so
extreme that advertising clips have elevated it to an iconographic
status that has become a convention.
But
unlike the boast of advertising’s scrupulous control of the image in
the service of a product, Stefanie Schneider’s work repudiates such
control by means of an intentional imposition of accident. Since her
source images derive from a degraded Polaroid film stock long past its
expiration date—these images are then reprocessed and enlarged on
analog equipment—the presence of the distortions in the images are
intended by the artist who chooses the stock precisely for its capacity
to distort, but the nature of the distortions, within the range of what
the film stock in operation by the artist can generate, remain
accidental and only visible to the artist for selection after the fact.
Besides
that such images evoke a tension between accident and control that is
alien to commercial images that must be controlled due to the
contractual nature of their origins and aims, it is a fact that the way
accident underlies these images, does not derive from “what is already
there” in, the conventional sense that photographs are constrained by
the way they necessarily capture existing reality external to the
artist’s contrivance. Here the accident is in the intrinsic process: it
is chemical, physical, mechanical, and concealed from the artist’s
view, as much as the artist does contrive the conditions for it to
occur. In this sense, it perverts this traditional limitation of
photography as an artistic medium by exaggerating it to an extreme
degree. It transfers the lack of an artist’s contrivance, from the a priori nature of that which is photographed, to a chaotic element in the mechanico-chemical process of reproduction.
The
Minimalists who followed, rejected this sort of work as too “gestural,”
too “representational,” and too “personal,” but, all too often they
ignored or underestimated the power of the tension to be derived from
this conceptual dimension of the work in its simultaneous accommodation
of intention and accident—which, in either case they would have
regarded as inimical to the absolute control they often fetishized as
an alternative to traditional emotion.
But
it is precisely this intentional imposition of accident that Stefanie
Schneider introduces to the photographic medium in the intrinsic manner
of its rendering. In this sense, her work is radically distinct from a
photography that is thoroughly “staged,” or merely altered after the
fact, or “manipulated” in the reproduction process, or degraded on its
surface, or for that matter which luckily captures an accidental event.
Her work reveals a marked theoretical kinship with the work of painters
of the forties and fifties, by appropriating or “selecting” their most
pertinent conceptual innovation and adapting it for the photographic
medium by devising a practical means to incorporate it in a medium that
is itself mechanically and chemically mediated.
Here,
the desert in all its squalor, is neither entirely real, nor
“hyper-real,” but a fictive environment generated by the artist’s
contrivance through the imposition of accident upon the process of
photographic representation.
Stefanie Schneider’s desert is no more literally real than is the absence of any intrusion of the external world in Till Death Do Us Part. The characters seem to have no past or future apart from the immediate—one could say in this regard, hellish—
all-present of their exclusive relationship, and the narrated allusions
to events that may or may not be real in the imaginary plane the
characters inhabit. Within the world of this visual and narrated
fiction, there exists for them no opportunity for interaction with
anyone but each other, either in person, or by electronic means.
Instead,
the artist selects all aspects of their condition, even though
constituents of the totality of their condition may originate with the
actors themselves. Similarly, the artist isolates them from all
elements that would fall outside the exclusive domain of their
relationship.
In this sense, Till Death Do Us Part
is not reality, but more than reality’s depiction can achieve through
conventional means, it conveys a real sense of what it is like to be a
protagonist of such a relationship, to be prey to the strange delusions
that so often occur as part of the relationship’s intrinsic condition,
the sense that, for the lovers, only they themselves exist, and they
exist only for themselves and for each other.
The
fact that both lovers are women, on the one hand, underscores this
exclusivity, and renders them more keenly and apparently reflections of
each other. On the other hand, it implies a degree of overt harmony in
the work’s formal aspect that itself generates an aesthetic
counterpoint to the tension between intention and accident in the
work’s conceptual aspect.
The
effaced death that ends the work reaffirms the sense of oscillation
between reality and fantasy that permeates the work. In the end, it is
as though the totality of both character’s passions were subsumed by
the desert, the stage upon which the artist enacts every mental state
Stefanie Schneider conjures.
—DREW HAMMOND, 2009

Stefanie Schneider
29 PALMS, CA
Pocket Polaroid Series #004
published by SCHWARZERFREITAG, Berlin
ISBN 9-783937623-04-7
24EUR




Whisky Dance
If the whisky dance he asks her to is far enough away. Go. There is no music there. If they are high enough to hear, everything gets still as broken glass. And the car, it's like it drove itself out. So quiet as Stevie passed the bottle off and everything begins to fade. He says that they are far enough away now, yeah? And it's just the way it was. The light like this. An old guitar. Like no stranger was saying how far you could not go. Look there. We could park the Cadillac out behind that shed where nobody can see. We'll play stupid games, and it gets hazy now 'til nobody can recall if Stevie ever meant to stay as beautiful as then.
(poem / song written and performed by JD RUDOMETKIN)