I could not look away from the field of poppies. Someone behind me was trying to get a glimpse, but I was too greedy. I traveled like a satisfied bee, compound eyes drunk on sun and pollen, from one cluster of stems and pods to another, through red, blue and green. Areas of fine, tight focus layered with movement, toggling into a dizzying swarm.
At a distance of a few feet, you can see the path of the wind through the flowers. The photograph is an anomaly in the exhibit—there is no horizon, no ground. Here, photographer Abelardo Morell aimed his camera directly at the field in Vétheuil, France. The image consists of 50 narrow digital exposures, made in slivers, from the bottom to top of the frame, taking about a minute to complete.
Morell’s current exhibit, New Ground, at Edwynn Houk gallery in New York, is composed of digital photographs made mainly in two well traveled destinations in France. Following in the footsteps of Van Gogh in Arles, and Monet in Giverny, Morell brought his giant DIY tent camera to explore these sites photographically.
Among the pictures in the gallery is an explanatory diagram that sheds light on how his detailed images are created—a prism at the top of his handmade contraption functions like a periscope, projecting the image outside onto the ground under the light-tight tent, enabling him to photograph the scene in front of the tent on the ground itself. The camera’s design has evolved since he first developed it in 2010, becoming more compact, but at six feet across, it still requires at least two people to set it up and a third to help carry it. A light-blocking fabric purchased from a laser testing company lines the tent, enabling a new level of vibrancy.
Though influenced by those that pictured the land before him, Morell’s own experience of Arles and Giverny was shaped by a sense of newness and exploration. His favorite part of the process is walking in the fields, and discovering new things. “All kinds of surprises can happen, when you are looking at the ground,” he says. “In Arles, Van Gogh was my guide. I didn’t want to make the paintings, but the atmosphere of the paintings.”
Like ancient navigators, wayfinding by stars and lines of the land, viewers move among images that compound the sky and the earth in a new topology. The water lilies of Monet may have become a cliché of art history—but Morell’s optical technology complicates the picture enough to make them surprising again.
Thanks to a gardener friend at Monet’s garden in Giverny, the photographer was able to get access after the tourists had left at 6pm to take advantage of the most painterly light of the day. In View Of Monet’s Water Garden #1, the stones embedded in the path, polished by the feet of tourists, are in focus, along with the soil. The projection of the water garden is a vapor over the stones, a view you can’t quite grasp, but understand anyway.
In fact, the notoriety of Morell’s chosen subjects play to his favor. The familiarity of impressionist landscapes works like collective memory, supporting and filling in the composition. The image shifts dramatically as you step backwards, the fine grained focus on the ground slips away, and the overall shapes of the landscape emerge. The path stones turn to falling snow, or leaves, cascading through the trees, reflections and lilies. The polished stones are reminders of crowded modern life within this otherwise idealized landscape.
Morell expresses his admiration for 19th century painting and photography by opening a dialogue with it. “I want to see the reality of the very ground in France”, he says. “The idea of truth is important—a device looking at the thing itself.” Eavesdroppers on this extended conversation with art history will be gratified.
Editor’s note: New Ground is on view at Edwynn Houk gallery in New York until December 9.