David Burnett


Da vid Burnett

September i2-November 8, 1981


!i) 19~ I AfT Gallery of i\ II ri gh rs rcse rved

IS II:", O-'IJ'}S,6-7'1-X

Bli rn en. Dav i d.

Robe rt Bon rd C;) LI :1 TIId Phil ip Pocock




Carnlogue of an exbtbhlon held il.~ rhe c\n: Gatlcry of Omario, Sept. 12-NQv. 8, 1981.

ISlll" ()..~ I ~876-1~-X

l. Phntf.l~ra]lny.. Artistic - Exhibuions. ;::, Bourdeau,

Rubert, 1.931- - Exhibit.ions_ 3, Pocock. Philip -

Exhlbhlons, I. Bourdeau, Robert, 1931-

n. Pocock. Phllip. TIl. An G,U." of Oruario.

The An G,,~lcrv O{O'U9fio is [undcd bv the Province of Onrariu, ~ht, J\liJli:!inr~' ·of CUlL urc and I{CC1·iI".·il(i~ll. rlu- ~llLnil[~p:'~Lty ~)r Mcrropol ir811 Toronto, and rhc Government of Canada rhr'OlLgh the National Museums Corporariun and rhc C~IIUc.L1 Council.



Preface by William], Withrow

-f Acknowledgements


Hourdeau and Pocock T'IL'l! E"ds of" SpeCh'lI111

II Notes


The Photographs

28 Biographies of rhc Artists


Catalogue of the Exhibition


Photograph), has for a long time occupied an ambiguous position amongst the visual arts. Only in very rCCCJ1{ years has phorography begun to receive the extensive critical and curatorial arrenrion that is now carrying ir beyond the status of ,1 specialized - not ro sa)' slIspccr - adjunct to the visual arts. This exhibition of the work of Robert Bourdeau and Philip Pocock has been organized by David Burnerr, Curator of Canadian Contemporary An at the An Gallery of Onrurio. We arc delighted to present [he work of Messrs, Bourdeau and Pocock, marking widely differing aspects in the rich spectrum of contemporary photography in Canada.

\\''''''''''.J. \V'THROW, Director,

Art Gallery "fOntario


It is customary to begin by thanking those who have loaned works to an cxhibnion. In this case the situation is" special one f!>r the two phorographers have 110[ only loaned the works but primed them specifically for This showing. [ am grateful for

rhe; r prom pr, professional response, My thanks are due also to Jane Corkin and to Philip Pocock Senior for their help and suppOrt at various stages of this project. Marilvn Schiff read, corrected, and clarified ITIV catalogue essav: mv thanks to her.

Ar the An Gallery of O'nr:uio I-wanr rorccord my thanks to E"3 Robinson, Registrar: Ih,.,y Simpson, i\,I;lIuger of Exhihirions: Ches Taylor. L\1aruger of Technical Services, and his staff; Denise Bukowsk], I 'lend of Publications and Design: Margot Boland, who designed the caulogllc, a,,(l a special [hun Its (0 Mara l'vlcild-:, my secretar-y.


BOURDEAUA~DPOCOCK Y:W(} Ends of It Spectrum


The Lallgullge of Photogntpbic AlIa/y,~i s

American photographer Berenice Abbott wr-ote thirty year-s ago:

The world rodav has been conditioned, overwhelminglv, to visualize. The piCIlf1"f has almost replaced the sxort! 'as a means of communication. The pictu re is one of rhc p"i ncipa] mediums [sic) of inrcrprctarion, and 'it, importance is thus growing ever vaster;'

This sentiment has become part of the folklore of mass media conuuunicution, Abbott would, of course, han: been correct if she h.ld projected the continuing l)mlUf<:rati"" of picture images, particularly loy pijlOt<Jg,'aphic rechniq .. es BUT she was quite wrung In S\lggeSt rlu~ the picture \\'as, challenging rhc wnrd as ~~ I"IlC.i'1 ns of COil'! 1"1"1 unicarion or rhnt ir ,,'OlS" a princi pal medium of inrcrprcration. It would be much more accurate ro ~'l)' rlutr rho picture is ,1 principal SnLlI'C(_~ of inspiration for inrcrprerations. The picture, a, " passive and superficial object, incites interpretation.

['0'- Abbott. "the picture" meant the photographic image, but her concern with its relationship to communication and interpretation would apply just as wulll 1:0 p·ai1'l,r.illg':l5i: 1'0 photog;r~~phy, 1-1"11; hi,SI"m)' ;l,nd ;:I.estherics of phOrQgl"riphy have in subsrunrial ""fly' been writrcu around the rclarionshjp of photograpl'i)' to p:li'1t:lng. The rcndcntious and now largely tedious issue as to whether phorography is an art depends upon how on. 's viewpoi nt has bee" shaped I)\" poi nring, And the fact rhar the ~SSlI'~S raised in the debate are still no closer to solution suggests rhar rhey are inrracrible rather rhan subtle, \Vitholll serring aside rhe interesting and valua ble critical questions ehat still surround the matter; it is necessary to point out thin to demand solutions for them is ttl assume that fixed vatuc s exist both for painting and photographv, B,- taking either a strictly modernist or narrowlv represvntarionnl poine of view; such theoretical assi .... nprions r night be possible. Bur a critical stance closer 'to the nature "f artistic activity, both now and in [he past,

would he one that began not with i,I<b [ixes about photography or painting. bur with J concern with rhc history of images - hisrorv, in fact, of visualization that brings together both the ronnal properties of an inlilg-e and irs subject. Once we show such a concern with historv (how can ir be a"oilied?) we are irnrncdiately set inro the realm of words, and once we question what an image is and what it represems, W~ search with words ro bring about an interpretation. The picture, by its very existence, demands a voice.

This stance docs not imply that pictures must depend on narrative descriptions, for pictures do have the ability to express concise and abstracr \'"h,~s, Nor is ; t ro say that the invention of photognlphy ",~, in itself ~11~ euruing poinr that called fora whole new critical vocabulary, There is a pre-history of phOf<lgnlphy contained in the desire for rhar form or visualizurion that photography mille to claim for itself. bur that

existed long before the technical means of fixing images existed, The intimate interior paintings of jan Vermeer and Picrer de Hooch and manv of the landscapes of jucob "an Ruisdael and Philips de Koni nck arc, conccprually and visually, more instantaneous in their form and conrcnt than tile bland landscape view or the h isrrionic silli ness of m uch early photogr'"::1fihy .. 1"1: is b1()\VI1 l'h:H fL~C 0.( '[he camera obscnra by painrcrs was " well developed practice in the Netherlands dLlring [he scvenrccnrh century.s But rhe vital point was nor simply the artists' adoption of" labour-saving device for the man II facru rc of paintings, bur their recognition that through it a specio] type of interpretation of the world was possible. The fact of the visual compression of a scene onto rhc screen of the cmner« obscura granted recognition to the precise place of each object and gave importance to cverv surface and every edge. And tl1i, compression showed how v'i",,,1 meaning lay in rile rclationship of things; not in the .:lrbitr~r) imposirion of tigures ag~i"st a ground. bur in the relnriviry cor rclaeionships, of figures wi thin the gl·{~ur .. d.

T'hc hist~"y "I' visualization - in which the development of phcrogruphy is inseparable from {he radical changes in painting

over the past 130 vcurs or so - has shown 110 particular abilitv to abandon the linguistic r c haracter of its interpretation. ConCC"'''Iin.g one end of the s'pcctrum of modern image-making techniques, tint of mass conununicnticns. Roland Barthes "Tore in g 96" (j"" abom half-way herween the tome of Berenice Abborr's cssa!' and now),

T"d.1)' ... i~ nppcars that tile lingllistic mesS3g:<: is indeed present in cvcrv image J.5 title, caption, accompanying press article, fi~m di,dnguc, comic-strip balloon which shows rhat it is 1100t ,'e]"), accurate to ralk of a civilization of w]"i[ing~ \\'i·iting' and speech conrinuing '[0 he '[he full terms of rhe informutionul srrucrure.e

At the other C"nd of tile spectrum. that of the apparently autonomous phorogl':.lphi<; i!'--lagt.'", the ter ms in which ir is undcrsrood are dra \\,11 r rom another bra rich of writing - the

hisrory or pi:lilil(~ng_

The photographs of Philip Pocock and Rober! Bourdeau stand strcnglv in conrrnsr, stretching the r~nge of the medium. Pocock's work is in a particular colour technique, Cibachrornc, and "f" very specific urban location, the Spanish ghetto or New \1",1.', Lower hoot Side, II;, print, ore enlargements selected f~·Oln rhe rolls of 3-5nln1 coluur pnsuli\'c; film rhnr he shoors wirh a, J .eica camera. Bourden U, ill CO'Hf<1S", works exclusively ill black-and-white, dcallng primarily with landscape. In his car ly work he printed from cnlargcrncnrs, but si nee 1966 all his

prints have been made from large-size negatives. The greatest number of hi, prints have been 8" x 10", with a substantial group of II" x 1-1" prints and a smaller number of intermediate sizes and [ortnats developed 0)' masking the negative.

The contrasting techniques of (he two lOCO reflect <1, deep a division in their choice of subject matter 3:5 In ir s trcarm c -nt. The prims of Philip Pocock shown in this cxhibirion conccntratc on :111 cxrraordiuary g''''''Jp or wall puinrings made on rhe cxrcrior wall. of buildings in a small Mea of the Lowe,' East Side. Ir is an area dominated b)' people from Puerto Rim and the Dominican Republic, on orca of ucurc social and economic depression and environmental devastation. Ami whilst Pocock


centres his photographs on the wall paintings, he establishes their presence, with iron" and pathos, within their particular urban context, Their very existence is ironic fOI; unprotected against either the natural clements or vandalism, the)' svmbolize the deterioration or the place they ,\I', i ntended to enliven,

Hourdcau's choice of subject matter is traditional in its concenrrarion on landscape and architecture. Alrhough he makes ,1 parricular scene highly specific in itself, he avoids setting up a conrexrual situation that would identify the scene in il documentarv Wily. Some sixteen years :lgo Bourdeau wrorec

I b"gal1 ro realize wh.t Edward W",!on 111<;011., when he said, "Anything that excites. for ~ny reason r will phoeog'"l~h, nor searching for unusual subject matter bur making the commonplace unusual, nor indulging ill cxrrnordinary technique to attract attention . ..:!

This cancep' lies ur rhc "crycOl'c of Hourdeau's choice of subject and method of approach to it - the intuition of choice matched [0 rhe image cast onto the ground-glass screen of his camera. At that point the arbitrarv aspects of choice arc eliminated and he works with the cast image. so that when he makes the e>:pOStl re (and he only ever makes a single exposure of. particular scene) it is exactly Iba/ image he wishes to preserve in the prL'it. Sud, an approach to the technical aspect of ~li< ph,,[ogr~phy is inspi ,'<:,1 dir<:ctly by hi. ambition tor the im:1ge~ [he idea rhar in: is [Iii im,3g:c of some "thing." whether that be 01 rock-strewn stream or a view across rhc Curnbrian hills. And in drawing cvcryrhing into the frame and concenrrnting ir for the moment of exposure, he seeks to "coli", nor simply an appl'aran(''; but an image of experience, one rhat drives out everything else bv the intense nrrenrion to what is shown.

[t is a simple matter to describe two photographers such as Pocock and Bourdeau in terms of their difference. at technical, intcnrional. and aesthetic levels. Hut in doing so we arc "looking tllW"gh" the similarities, avoiding not only the common ground of fiction rhnt hinds them - the suspension of disbelief - hut d1C' fact rh:lt one la'ngll:lge of interpretation i~ common to both. That selected image of reality in the phorogrnph Ius the fiction of all images, passively reflecting the specrarors' ussumprions 0.· mutely awairing cOL11.J'~eniQn, which can only come in language.

One of the sharpesr observations of on invariably sharp observer come> at the end of Susan Sontag's essay "In Plato's Cave." She writes:

Ulcimarcly, [0 have uru experience becomes identical wi rh raking " phorogrnph <If ir, and parriciparing ill a public event becomes more and more [0 he equivalent ro I,wki';g at 'it in photographed form. Thar most logic"1 of nineteenthcentury aesthetes. Mnllarme, said thar everything in the world exists in order 'to end in a book. Today everything exists to end un a pbotograph.>

This is a particularly pessimistic view, precisely because of the muteness of the photograph. But it would explain why ccrrain types of photography continue to be described in the terms we usc to describe painting. If we speak of photography interms of arr, \\1oC· ha v c a \vay of overcoming irs disconcerring presence. The work of Pocock and Bourdeau, taken together, raises this issue precisely because of the difference, between them, Pocock, ironically, by photographing art, and Bourdeau because of his ,Ippal'cnr lura~hl1)ellt to ~ tradition of representation whose roors reach back beyond the; development ef phorographv.


J\!l~'n_1 painting has, throughout its histor: v , peuerrared (\\10 fictional levels. On" asserts that the painted \\,,,11. even the building in which it stand" doc. not really exist. It tries to paint rhe building away, The other seeks to transform the building into" special place, to let it become a world different from the material one. Tile- murals that Pocock photographs combine both these forms: (hey arc often joined by a thin] level, the graffiti, which, even Lf it has r~hnlr~ existed, h3S no hi:HUI")', And crossing these representational distinctions is a different srrucrural system rh • at informs rhe parricular :!H.lhjc.:,(.:t matter of individual paintings; " mixture of politics, wit, "Old escape. A further structural mode exists between p'liflt~TlgS made as a spontaneous acrivitv and those produced as a pari of a sponsored, plan ned campaign, Many of rhe murals done in the Lower Cu",t Sick cam" about under the auspices and suppon of

cornrmmity programs: the artists involved are or as diverse backgrounds, qualifications, and accomplishments as the works they produce.

Bur whether quasi-official or not, the ambience of these paintings is strange. For nlrhough they are done on the exterior surfaces of rhe buildings, tlIC)' face ;lItO the ghetto. Sinnply by using the pl:H1C surfaces of 'he \.,·,,11 th~y do not conceal how and where they exist. Radler rha n alleviating the hopeless squalor of the area, they underline it by rhe wry contrast between the stark reality of the gheuo and the Ii ",ited illusion of escape that til" paintings suggest. They represent their OWI1 sense of defeat and in this they are, as Gregory Batrccck pointed 0"'. pee" [iar+y unassertive: in a political sense.s They foster a nostalgic idealism, and rarely exhibit anger or controversy, The>, app",!r eo subscribe II1Me to rhc history of art than the}' do ro the history of political and social outrage.

Pocock's photographic approach ro the murals points up the illusionism of pointing, It is not simply that he emphasizes the techniques bv which the images exist, but rather he gives emphasis to the illusions of the paintings' promises. What be shows, what he interprets above all, is the failure of painting to be able properly to cope with the socio-economic reality in which these murals srand .. M,,,·als like I/i"", Pnerto Rico Libr« (No. 1(9) 'H1d Ufierl)l wit/; /Iird.< (No 95) have no meaning outside of the fact of using symbols that '1'<1 vc lost the; r value by repetition .. The flag, the inscription "Viva Puerto Rico Librc," the Statue of Liberty, and the black youth bursting his chains conve}' only their banality. Pocock underlines this in Li"'1"Iy with Birds (No. 95} by using steep foreshortening, clear blue sky, and free-flying birds. The phorograph adds artifice to artifice, cultural symbols and natural svsrerns are subsumed by it into a sing:lc. static conglomerate. The painted skv leads into the skv beyond, the birds em» easily from their part in the painring to rhei r place in the sky. But it is an artifice that call> attention to itself, rhar piles syrnhol "P"" symbol and, in the ph orogra ph , flattens and reduces them ~~1.

These murals, by rile level of s(Jpilisticariml rhey 3~p;re to. poinr to the weakne ss of pniming in coping with the rc~li')' of this situaticn.Jr is as if the artist knows too much of what is expected of an exhortative public art and does not question rhe

relevance of his particular iJ11"!;~s to the audience he is addressing. It is as if rile firs! duty of an is to art rather than to feeling: 0 point finely expressed in rhcsc words, artributcd to Ben Shahn:

Is there nothing W weep about in this world anvrnore? Is "II our pity and anger to be red uccd to a few tastefully arranged straight lines of petulant ol.luirr,:'

How m uch mort: feeling 011(1 how much less a rt is found; n a piece like !.ilt&rty j,l{drolil', All (No. 152). The banal imagery of the picture, with rts !,(I"wi'lg sky and firm upright silhouette of the statue, is directand unsophisticated in its desire, it stales a set of circumstance thar (!IIgh! to) be meaningful, It is painting used like a snapshot; the hope of grasping: a feeling, a ,·agllc sense orr the significance of a 11"10mCI1t' whose record is always tinged with disappcinrmenr, Pocock reveals ehar disappointmcnt in ("\1'0 ways; first hv the distorted enclosure of rhe surrounding buildings, which makes rhc whole cffo rr of the pai,nil'lg seem pathetic. Second, he exploits the effect of rile strong rUktrlg sunlight, "file intercsring textural play between the plaster and brickwork in the upper part simply serves TO emphasize the joinrs and texture of the concrete blocks below and reveal rhc rhin, transparent tact of the painting.

The most effective and most startling uf the mural> arc the least grandiose, the least prctcnrious, p3'indl"lgs like the extraordinary Second AuclUlc SII/!wa_y (No. ] M), which Pocock brilliantly interprets through his intcgrancn of rrecs one! f',iling. (lIld steps into (he sci-fi fantasy of the painted im"g~; ,h.., pathetic paradise of /5;/(mri SI/11.<e1 (No .. IS·QI, which stands like an ex-coto ,Cl~OVC rhc miserable aUl'nlpt:;: at cultivation beneath. There is also till; humour of Train Tracks and Tuio Hydrmw (Nos. 144 and 145) '111d tho: strikingly beautiful Clxtlk (}1' Brick (No. 156) - approached with unusual closcnes and frontality - which J1~S the muted character of Paul Klcc's magic sqllar~ pictures

of the earlier 1920, ..

Time and again in Pocock's pictures, the point around which meaning revolves is not simply tile painrcd munds and their context - the i ron!' or pathos of rhc painted ill usion and the devastation of its surroundings. Rather ir lies more de,-,p~)' in n conflict between painting and photography. The conflicr I;"s in


the nature of illusion and reality as they exist ill painting and photog r aphy. Pocock gin" credibility to the illusions of painting only to the point that they are ddil11ito:cE by the greater illusion of rhc photograph. He holds apart the aesthetic capacities of pail)ti[lg' and photog,·~p·hy and thereby int<:tprcts the abjlity of both to COm111C1U on the rcalirv of the place and rime. "It is only perhaps in Cblll1~ 011 Brick (1'\0. 156), where the photograph is used to respond directly to rhc ch .. ·.c[e,· or the work of arr, thnr the rculitv of the work dominates. Frontal, framed, and in an even, diffused light, it is the original work of art rhar energizes the photogra ph.


In man)' fCSP,-,Ct<. Robert Bourdeau's \\'0)]"1; P"<:S~l1tS more complex problems for horh description and analysis. The irony of rhis is rho. rhc genre in which 1,0 works appear, ini'ially ro

p r escnr [10 spccia] difficulties. Whereas Pocock', work straddles the concept' of phorograph-as-arr and phorograph-ns-socinldocument, Bourdeau's work seems to exist quite clearly within the category of view-making (whether of landscape or architecture). Not onlv that, but his work con be seen to stand

withi n a tradition of photography that. linked explicitly to Ec!\\,al·d Weston ~nd :v!inor White, reaches back into rhc nineteenth-century landscape photogruphv of the American W~~! done by Timorhy O'Sulliv,~", Eacl\\·,ard ;"l"rhridg", and crhers.

Placed within thar tradition of photography, Bourdeau's work has been described aesthericallv in rerrus of the sublime, of microcosm and macrocosm, an·cI of the univcrsal.s The problem that such approaches present is that the), si mply ace"!,, nll the confusions and contradictions that hay" plagued critical attempi, to deal with rhe nature of photography and painting. The descriptions of Bourdeau's work that intend somehow W capture the speci .. 1 reeling it raises, drag with th<'111 parnphcrnalia of stylistic, metaphoric, und rnctaphysicul truism •.. \111ch of rhis comes, of course, from the inchoate feelings stimulated bv looking ar his photographs. They seem to- embrace [11MC than rhev show, rhev oppear to open up a void that demands TO

be filled - with spiritual sincerity perhaps, or with cognition. Thci r i nsisrenr derail, taken rogcrhcr with a virtual avoidance of activity or of n "figure-ground" structure, seems to demand IfI,,/ers/II//{/illg, to be underpinned by explanation. Our language, ccrtainlv the language we have come to usc for painting, does not supplv such underpinning; the work is the very antithesis of rhc Romantic naturalism of Caspar I),wid Friedrich, and far from rhc ninerccruh-ccntury painters of the American west, wirh their eyes like wide-angle lenses and their palettes "",ash with orange,

To look a a Bourdeau prim is to be in contact with each parr of it equally III an e5531' on his work, Ann Thomas was right ro docny that his work 'I'~, "pictorial." for that term (derived naturallv from painring and applied in phorography by her (O men like Ansel .'\darn;;, Paul Strand, and Minor- White) i" I)), definition, a parricula r means of constructing landscape." It goes back in fact to Claude Lorrain and the construction for landscape p:liluillg that he had developed so finely hy the midseventeenth centui'Y. It was; ft construction that prevailed for

150 years, until artists once more looked at the landscape itself instead of rhe walls of country-house an collections, In contrast Bourdeau, rather than being pictorial (let alone sublime), appears concerned with the facts of things, with the production of ,111 apparently guileless (artless) survey of what exists. Iii, work has, indeed, been discussed in relation to the work of Bernd ,,11(1 Dill. Becher in their photographs of industrial architecture (Fi~, I). There arc certain points, both in terms of technique and result, that seem to sUPP<)I"t this, Hcrnd Becher in a recent interview s.i;lid:

The photographs [of industrial structures] should always show "II the <ktilils and textures of the materials. This is why we decided (0 usc a largt,;-rorn'l~\{ CHI11tC;ra.

Bourdeau might appreciate that viewpoinr: but Becher went on to s:'y:

,\r1 industrial structure is all illustration of its time and on" I11mt document it phorographicallv before it disappcnrs.!"

Bourdeau, even when photographing: man-made structures, has nothing in common wirh thai sensibility, As faf as the character

Fig. I. Bernc:lli.l)cJ J lill::i Rcdwr, CcoIi~lg 1"wers, 1972: photographs. (0); 40 in, (152.~ x 101.6 "Ill).

of docu menrauou and the rclarionship of man-made structures to their social contexts go, the Hechcrs' work is closer to Pocock's, The Bechers and Pocock document deteriorating structures. The physical disiurcgrnrion of rhc structures is borh

fa,cI ami svm bul; the industrial structures in their technical obsolescc;,cc nrul the murals in their pathetic intention to improve arc falcd 1>,1' their technical fraility, their accumulation of graffiti, and rhcir marginal relevance to a corner of socierv consumed with su rvival.

Bourdeau's photographs are frontal and direct: They arc, as it were, unbiased, for cverv part of the si .. -face is considered cquallv, The central part of the subject - be il a statue, a river, a church - is privileged by its centrality, but it does nor stand our as something essentially different from any other pan, The whole image is horh subject :md conrext. It is as though the angle of viewing, the field Olf the lens, and the reality of the image on rhe ground-glass screen of the camera drive out an_\' consideration of the extension of tile view The result is that what we see is 1>0[ a pan of the world, but the wholeness of the image, In Pocock's photographs, meaning is drawn in by an ironic incompleteness, bv the ironic illusion of painting. 101 Hourdcau's work, it is as if the world had been held in suspense, morncnrnri I), obl iterated bu t for the image that has survived.

It is ncr only a spatial exclusion, but also an exclusion of activity; the images 11I;,'cr depict an event. Thev exclude the conunuity "f lime :111.1 space to make real the experience at the morncru of (:>':pOS-lIJ"~.

It is natural rhcn that Huurdcau should not be cnl1cernc'd to find subjects that arc, in themselves ... rem ... rkab!c. 1. le chooses hills bur not mountains, srreams bur nor rivers, churches hut not cathedral." tomb, but 110t those that cclebrarc rhc great. I lc avoids mOI11,'nt$ of drnmutic natural hglHing, I Ic r'l\'J)lltS :1 diffused, even 1i~11t that allows a rich extensive range of IOl1eS, ~H·oiding ~XllTnH.:s of black and whirc. Lookt-for in. ranee, al i\'o, H (Ontario), where the liuhr are" of the skv is suppressed 11m onlv in its own t<.;nc hut also by jr~ visual associarior» in area and shape with the lawn that marks the middle ,'anj.(c of tones. The trees an; invested with u wide

tang" of SlIlHly grad~d tones, bur deep blacks are avoided and the juncture between sky and trees is softened by the effect of the foliage's slight movement, which was captured during the

long ~xp~)s.urc.'" ...

111 saying that his choice of subject avoids the conventionallv :-::Hiking eu- the lIlHlSU.aI, it is well ro establish rhar BOLln:llcal,_l


doc nor discriminate an",ng the subjects he takes. For example, archirccrural subjects SI'\ll,J beside those of culrivared landscape anti of wide tracts of unfarmed, even unrrodden land, The choice lies outside particular snciOllngicaJ concerns, and yet the spectator C;1I1 become acutely aware of what is happening and what 11:" happened with (he passage of g:o:neratiorlS, In No, 31 (Yorkshire, Eng-!'I1'ld) the land and its cult iva rion is both organized and s)'J'lli>nli,.;cd uy rh e stone enclosures that rake in equally the damp lower pastures and the highest points of rhc hills. In comparison, rhc photograph of the tea plunrarion in Sri Lanka (No. 551 shows rile cultivated land crossed here not h)' walls hut hy worn pathways. and the area of cultivation is carved our of dense jungle, The variety ;11 these two vcrv different experiences "I' culrivnrion and in the social situations rhev subrend is nude clear bv the contrast of ronal treatment: the heavv, cool atmosphere of the one and [he dry, hor air (If the 'other, And yet, set next to one another, it is nor a division of experience rhat we arc shown, but a shift, The reality of r 111; photograph lies with the choice of rhc photographer - wi rh his observation -

which lies outside of the experience either of rhc Yorkshire farmer or the Sri Lankan [">1 phIlUCI: Reality does 110t lie in

the images as socio-economic documents nor as vaguely apprehcndcd supcrsensible universals, Reality lies first in the

equality of the viewer's experience with the photographer's, a quality made rca) by Bourdeau', SUPCl'" concentration "I' what he has seen.

The recognition of what is happening in 0"1" I'espons" to these images must include, nor only the method by which the images are made forl11'II1)" hut also the subject represented. Our language for expression of visua) understanding. however, depends largely on responses I'D painting, in particular on the Il'cliaiollship of formal una lysis to conrcnr dcscriprion - the legacy of late nineteenth-century art history <1nd criticism. \VC can so easily be led to express the contrusr between Pocock and Bourdeau in these terms. Pocock can be discussed 111 l("T"1115 related to the baroque, since he brings rogerher stark realism and a fanciful sense of illusion. Hc exploits [he vi brancy of rhe Ci bachrornc colour process to the fullest, and hi. viewing angles

an: invariably eccentric and disturbing to the viewer's equilibrium. BOllnkau, 011 the other hand, would seem to demand classical terminology, His work is invested with balance, harmony and decorum. His arrange",enrs set ocr clear descriptions of distance through foreground, middleground, '\I1Id background. The equal sharpness of focus across each image implies rhc notion of visual obiecnviry char was the invention (and the curse) of the Renaissance.

But the point is this: what is gained critically by an attachment to the language of art history? Only the satisfaction of Furrher integrating visual creativuy into (to borrow Roland Barthes' term) the zero-degree of written art history, the writing that neurralizcs creative activity into an inevitable historical conrinusry, And photography, historically brief and critically underdeveloped, is only with difficulty gaining an independent language. If we insist on seeing two photographers like Pocock and Bourdeau in terms of art history, we will see only contrasts, and that makes it difficult to see the work. Bur if we see the work first, we may be struck by two forms of a disturbing and nagging insecurity, borh of which offer interpretations of the here and now. On the one hand we see the f ra ilry of social systems and the weakness of culture; on rhe other, we arc presented with image that assert how, by our perceptions alone, we are attached to tho: world.


l. Berenice Abbott. "Photograph)" at the Crossroads." in Onss;c Esslly I)" Pb.folf1"ll""Y, cd Alan Trachtenberg (New Haven. Conn.:

Leers Island Bocks, 1980), p. 179.

2. The camera umcnru 'was an optical instrument first developed in tlu: sixteenth c...:nuurj' as an aid (0 draughrsrnanship, Comprising an arrangement of lenses. and mirrors in a darkened box. it reflected an 1fn~\ge onto a sheet or paper, which the artist could then trace'.

3. RolJnd Barrhes, "Rhetoric of the lInage" (1964), in Image, Mflsi~ "'Fe"1 (Nr w York: !lill & Wang, 1977), p, ss.

4. Robert Bourdeau. "The I\'ledimte(l lnmgc," Pboro Age (;\lucll 1.96,1): 19.

5. Susan Sontag. "In Plato's Cave," in (h, PbolOgrapby (New Yurk:

Dell: 1973), p. 24

6. Gregory Harrcnck. lnrroduerion to Tb« Ofro;.", Jlb,tiQ".' Mllrals fro'" I/;' Low,.,. Eas: Side (New York, nrazillel", 1980), p. 13.

7, Daniel M. Mcndelowirz, II Hitt.ry of American Art (New YOI'k, Hole, Rinchara and \Vinswn, luc., 1970) .. p. -H8.

Serge Berard. "1..;1 muse entre parentheses du sublime par la photographic er quelques examples chez Robert Bourdeau ," in P,m/chld, 22 (Prinrernps 198]),20-25; arid Ann Thomas, "Robert Bourdeau's Landforms in Praise of the Lucid.' in ATlSCtrrliiJ({ 34, no. 2 (May-june 1(77): 18-26,

9. Ann Thomas, ibM.

10. Bernd and I JiII;1 Becher ill interview with Angela Graverholz and Anne Ramsden, "Phorographing lndusmal Architecture," Psracbme 22 (Prinremps 1981): 15, is.


156. Philip Pocock. Ch.lko" Brill 1980

,,~ ~
" '\.-
::-- ... •
". ~
\. 174. Philip Porod, Unio: Sq •• re Pork Mr;ral 1981

1M.. Philip Pocock. Smmd A~..".e Subway 1980

1:5? Philip Pocock, /slul1(i Slms~t 1980

77. Robert Bourdeau, UmiJlrJ(CfJ'Jmly Clt,rl(, Ir1!J~ml) 19.1:ol0

152. PhilLlI Pocock. f_ilit'J"l.V jH:lcmJJ~AII ivso

.t)o, Robert Bourdeau. f)lll;thfl (OJ/WIY ,1I11J,tJ., hd{md) 1980



Baril Kingston, Ontario 1931. Currently lives in Ottawa. He is self-taught in photograph", His work has been shown i,l so 1'''1 " forty exhibitions over the past fifteen years, including one-man ~hOW5 at the National Film Board of Canada 0966), the Toronto Catlcry of Photography (1971), the Agnes Etherington An Centre, Kingston (1'179), and the lnreruational Centre of Photography. New York (I 1l801_

Examples of his work have 0,(;11 reproduced in a number of books, notably TiWe/Vf Canadiau», published by Jane Corkin Gallery, Toronto, 1981; and a monograph of the photographer's work published ill 1979 by Mint Marl< Press. with all introduction by Ronald Solomon,


Born Ottawa, j 95-1. Currcntlv lives ill New York. I-Ie took a B.r.A, from New York Univcrsirv in 1979 in Film and Television Productiou. A book ai' his photographs from the Lower Easr Sid e , The OJ",';QI(S Illusion: .-II/mil", [rom tbe Lmser

East Silk. was published by Braziller (1981), with an introducrion by Greg"')' Hartcock; ,,1'1 cxhibrrion of the photographs was held at ihc Cooper nion for the Advancement of Arts and Sciences, New York.


All rhe pri Il!S in (toe exhibition are shown 15 Ulililled (C"t;1J"'f( Po,k, Q!:tehec) 1972 31. Umitled r 16rkshire, ElIgf-rmd) l'ii 5
COUI'tCSj' of the a rtist. The works arc ,.11 5,7 in. (12_70 X 17.78 em) 8 X 10 in. (20.32 x 25_·lD em)
black-and-whiee gelurine silver contact 16. Unfilled (Cnnneau Park, QJI,/J,r) 1972 32. U71I;1/"/ (!'&,-kshi,'f. E"gia}]d) 1975
prints. lieight precedes width. 5,7 in. (12_70, li_i8 em) R x 10 in. (20,32 x 25,-10 em)
1. Utllit/,d (Olll<lrio) 1964 17. Ulltitld (O)}Iorio) 1';i2 3.1_ UJJlillM (CII"Ib,-ia, E"Cf",ul) 1975
+,5 in. 110.16" 11,,0 em, S x i in. (11,,0 x 17,]8 em) 8, 10 in. (20,31 x 25.-W em)
2. Ullli,/'-" (0"ber) j 9114 18. Umili,d (0""""'0) 1973 3-1 UTllill."} (C"",/rri(J, D,C'."'/) 1 97 5
+,5 in, (10.16 x 12,70 em) 5 x 7 il1, (12_70 s: 17.78 em) S x 10 in. (20.32 x 25.40 em)
3. UT/titl,,,} (01ll",io) 1 <J6S 19. U7IIilt<ti (ClIli1lUIII PtI,-k. Q]I,hec) 1973 35, Untitled (Cumbria, £llg1lmdJ 1'J75
+" j in, (10_16 x 1270 em) 8 x lOin, (20_31 x 25_40 em) S X 10 in. (20,32 X 25.40 em)
~, Untitled (011l11rio) 1';66 10, Ullfilied (Qp,b«) 1')73 36. Ullli/led (Clllllbri,l, EIIglu1Id) 1975
+,5 ill, (10,16,,12,70 em) R x 10 in. (20.32 x 25.40 em) J 1,14 on. (27,94 x 35.56 em)
5 U7IIilJcd (OIJlflri{}) 1968 21. U1IIitied IArizmw) 19;) 37_ Umi.ll",1 (C"",brill, big/mill) 1975
-l x 5 in. (10.16 x 12, ,0 ern) 11 x H in. (27.<.>+,35.56 em) 11 .X 14 In, (27,94 x 35.5(, em)
« (hllill e tI (OIJftlri,,) 1970 n U"titled («) 1973 3H. UJJliil<d (ClIml'ritJ, l:.-llg/",,,I) 19i5
5 x 7 in, (12.70 x 17,7R em) 1 I x H in, (li.9+ x 35,56 em) 11 x )4 in. (27,\14 x 35,56 ern)
7. Umitled (,Haille) 1<'>70 23_ VI/fillet! (Arisona) lli73 3'), Untitled (Climbri", E"glu,,(1) 1975
8 X 10 in. (20,31 x 25.40 em) 11 x Hill. (27_9+ x 35.56 em) 11 x l-f in, (27,9-+ x 35,56 em)
8, UrilillM (,1lm'l/e) 1970 ,H, Umit! .. " [Arizona) 1VB ~(), U>:!lilhrl (Cumbna; E"Cifl,,(1) 1975
R, 10 in. (211.32 x 25.40 ern) 1 I X H in, (27.9+,35.56 em) 1 I x 1+ in. (27.94 x 35.56 em)
9 U'lii,kd (Q!,ebl'r) 1970 25. Umitl,·d (Cati1mw Po,k, Qp,b,c) 1<'>7+ -II. Untitled {Cumbria; E~'g'mJd) 1 <)75
S x 10 in. (20.32 x 25.40 em) 1 I x 14 in. (27.9-1- x 35,56 em) 11 X J.I in, (2i.')~" 35,56 cml
10. UllJjlJ~d (Gatim."III1 P"rk~ QIJt!/xcj If)il 26_ Ulllillcd (Olllilrio) 1'17+ 42. Untitled (Cumbria, Ellg/IIIJ(I) 1975
5" 7 in. (1l,70 x 17.78 em) 1 I x .14 in. (2i_9-l X 35,56 em) II x 14 in, (27,94,35,5(, em)
II, Untitj~1 (LGml'/U!#1l PIJrk, Q_1II:l~~c) 1971 n. Ulllifled (O"'",iol l'n4 43- V"lifl~d ro"'~'iQ) 19i6
S x i in. «(2,70 x I 1.78 em) 1 I x 14 iii, (17,94 x J.'i,56 ern) 8 s: 10 in, (20,)2 x 25.40 em)
12. I./",ill'" (X,,,,, IIIIJllj>$I;ire) 1'171 ;!S. Ulllill,d (Gal;',,,,,, ['ark, Qudll:c) 1974 H, U11I;II,d (Utab} 197{j
5 x 7 in, (12,70 X 1,.18 em) II X H in. (2/,<)4 x 35,56 em) 8 X 10 in. (20,)2 x 23.40 ell'l)
13. lilllillcd (MlIilll') 1971 2[). Ulllill,rI (lu,-ksN", £"g/u",J) 1975 45, Umilled (Ulllb) 1976
5 x 7 in. (11.70 X 17.7S nil) 8 x 10 in. (2032 x 25.40.:",) 8 x 10 in. (20.32 x 25.-10 em)
14_ UJJ/illed (G(i1iii<'{ill P",-1, iliIC/Jec) 1971 30_ U,lIilkd (l!JrkJhi,·,. E1Ig/mrd) 1975 4(,_ Untitled (UMh) l'Ji6
;;."i"l in. (11.70 x 17.7J.l, CI11~ 8 x 10 in. (10_32 x 25.40 em) 8 x 10 in, (2'0,32 x 25A() em)
29 65,
~8, ,",'''';I/,d(U",/') I vt« (l6_
8.' La in, (olO.]2 x 25.-1{) em)
~I>. Um;t/"d milia,;,,' 1977 67.
Il x 10 in, (20.32 x 25.~O em)
50. limillM (CriI'"I'lIft Park, lli"'bec) 1<)77 68,
W, 11 in, (15 AU, 30,H! em)
H V"lill"" fGrilill<IiI' Pm·k lli,,-[>t,t) 1<)77 (,9.
10, 12 in. (15 AO x 30.48 em)
52, U}}/ilh-.d (Cmi7U:I/JlJ Par-i!, ill'dJec) 1<)7/ 70.
IU~ 12 in. (25 ,~o x 30,·"8 em)
53, Umil/ed (Onhi'n'tJ) 197R 71,
60,8 in. (16,51 X 20,n em)
.It Uwill(!! (Sl'i Laus«) J ,),S n.
~ x Win. (2031 x 25.-'10 em)
55 (.llllill,d (S.i /.allllll) 1'178 73,_
S, 10 in. (20,32 x 25.40 em)
5G, UIII;,I'" (S"i '-,,,,;m) 197R N.
~ X JO in. (20,.~2 x 25.-10 ern)
.5r. UllliJled (Sri r",d:aJ 197~ 7).
R, III i n, (20.32 ;, 25.40011)
5S. U'" it led (Sri 1.111';111) 1978 i/o,
s, 10 in, (20.31 x 15.+0 em)
59. VmiliM (Sri I,"""{I) 1978 77.
S x 10 Let, 120,_1l x 25.40 em)
60. Ii",illt-il (Sri I.,ml",) 1978 1'8,
S, 10 in. (20,32 x 25,~0 em]
61, U",illcd (S,; i.allkuj 1978 tv.
S, 10 in. (10,32 x 25,-10 em)
61. Umi'''~1 (Sri i,m/w) l'IlS 80.
H, 10 ill. (ZaJ_J2 , 2).40 ern)
cs. Umi""" (OJJl<J,.ilr) 197R n.
8, JO in. (20.32 x 25.-10 em)
M. Umi"ed (,Jibe",,) 197? 82.
6!h ;< Kin. 116.51 s: 20.32 ern)
30 U"li,led (Ollla,i{)) I OJ?

6\1 x Bin. (16,51 x 20,32 em)

Untitled (O","l'iJJ) 1979

8 x 10 in. (20.32 ~ 25,40 ern)

Umuled (O,I/II';(}) 1979

11;< 10 in. (2().3! x !5,~O om)

Vlliilled (II/lie''''') ]979

8 x lOin. (10, 32 x 25,40 <:111)

V1JIill"l (Alberltlj 1979

8 x j() ill. (20.32 x 25.~0 em)

Ulllitll!d (A 1/",,1,,) I Wi')

II x JOin, (20,32 x 25,+0 em)

Ulliitied (AiI"~'laJ I')i')

R -'- 10 in. (20,:>2 x 25,AO em)

Umillcd (1Illierlllj 1979

8 x 10 in. (lO,.ll x 25.40cm)

l.)>I'Iill<,1 (Alberlll! 1979

g ,lOin, (20.32 x 25.40 <:01)

U",;II«I (011;"';") 197<)

~ x JO in, (20.31 , 25.-1{) em)

Umillfd (O""',i"1 1980

6" X 8 in, (16,51 x 20,) 2 em)

ljmill,,1 (Omtlri!J) 1980

6Y.l x 8 ill. (16, s 1 X 20,32 em)

L'' CI,o'," Ird'JlJd) 1'1110 H, 10 in . (20.32 x 25.-10 em)

U"I;I)"I (0'11II1_\' .1Ia)Y~ iretnnd) 1'lgO I-l, III in. (21),32 x 15,-10 em)

U",ill,d (('1"11" ,11"1" Jrd,,,,d) 1990 8 x 10 in. (20j2 x .is.40 ern)

Omit/rtf (VffllIty ~Ut'I)'t'p hoelalld) 1980

~ x Will, (20.32 , 25.~0 em)

i,/w;Jict/ (0"'111.1' i-VitkIJl'm Irdw"l) 1980 II x 10 in. (la, 32 x 25,",0 em)

U",iild (Cillt"f_~ !VitHJI'-J; /"timIfIJ 1<)80

S x 10 in. (20.32 x 25.40 CIT'!)

83, Urllill,d {(;"'''''_l' TipP<'r<fJ, IrdllIJd) 1 <)80 j;, 10 in, (20.31 , 25,40 cm l

~-I. Umir/ct/ (Gm111.y TipfWmry. /"·I",,d) 19RO S x JO in, (20.32 x 23 ,~o em)

85, Uri/iII,," (CJI'lIIl_y Gal",''']' I1-d'lIId) 19&0 81 HI in, (20.32 X 25.+0 em)

ac. U",illed (On/lffi,,) 1<)80

8, j() in, (10.31 x 25,-10 em)

87 Vlllill,d (Om"ri,,) 1 080

10" 12 in, O),·W x 30,48 em)

88, Um;t/,J !OII/a,i.! 1981)

!O X 12 ill, (25 .' 10 X JQ,-IB '111)

&9, U",;ilaj (Ollln,i.) 1')80

10, ~2 in. (25,40 x 30.48 em)

90, U",iJl«f (Oll'lorioJ ~ 91!0

10 x J 2 in. (lS.40 x 30.48 em)


,\11 the prints in the exhibition arc shown cou rtc~y of tlH.~· art i st. The works arc ;1111 Cibachrorne pl"Ocess colour prinrs. Height precedes width and ;.11 measurements arc sighr

Q 1. Ai",b,,, Iwd Child 1 '17~ ](,.4 x 24,S em

92. Tfu 1':",,,.,,1"" Forest I 'nIl 16.3 x 24 . .5 em

?3, IiMch H",p/' I?n 16.3 x H.3 em

94, S"/III'" /" Viti" 1978 1(10.'" x 2~_6 CIT)

vs. LihuIJ ,"ilh B;n(s 1 '178 1(,,-1 x 2-1,1\ em

<)6, R~'QllJli"lJllr_" Hfl/I I 'Jill 16.4 x 14 .. 7 em

97. UJrJJfr 1)')07' ·u.'tliJ PoiNtcd .Husk J 9;8 ~~.6 x i5.9clI1

')11. SIIc;,,1 C/rrh Fum", 1978 2-1.7 x Ill ..... CllTJ

99. E I1tJ/Js/f)11 S,I'<''''' I ')IS 16.-1 x 2-1.7 em

I DO. / IN~ilJt[ on Second A~·fr'11Uf. I Q'i'S '2-1.).: X 16.4 em

to 1. ·FumpkiJJ.~· Sf{ff/l"t~ Park ll/mYJ'/ 1978 1(0.2 X H.-I em

102. Ttl,· 1"",.,. 1918 ]IiA,1-+.(,,,m

1 03. 110.1' ",'ill} I;,y Gmil

Cirl icitb Toy e,m 1975 Each 11.7 x 15.6 em

10-\. lIi""m Figures 1979

16 x 2-1.5 em

105. Red Cans I »t» 16.~" 2 •. 5 em

106. Fudgl' 197'1

11.5" 16.7; 11.-1, 16.7; 1.1.5, 16.7, 11.3:...: [6.7cm

107,. Li'i.:hlg, i~J the Sln-t'/f l'9'19 Ill.", 2'1.2<"111

IO~ . 1/.< li/i', rr, <1, 1M",,· 1979 16.-1'24.lem

10'/. PopcrAirpkme ]979 16 x 1'4-.~ ern

110. IIMfi"tfi/ 197<) 16.1 x 1·L7 em

II I Girls PIlI.w·ng 1 »t» 16." .X 2-1.6 ern

112. TI,,' 1'0,'1 1979 16.-1 x H.6 (11\

11.1. .Imi,!,m .• · S"ri,,1 C/,," 1 'Ji') 1().4 x 14.(, em

Ilf. Gurg"ylt: [Paradisr Alley) 1979 24.4 x 16.+ em

115. IIi>rlm·.' wiJ/) Hsrdbats 1'179 16.3 x H.6 em

116. ,1bt.1IJ(/OJl,d l!uiltlillg 1979 2-L7 x 16,-+ em

117 ToY' for S,,1t I 'Ii') 24.+" I('.f em

i ts. 7;"'111/'" I 'Oei! G"rb~J)'/< 1979 16.4 x 2-1.1 em

119. fl",.""" (}"I Red)1m 1'J7') 16A X 24.~ ell!

120. O)"'{Nlfilirm <zith D""", 1979 16.-1 x 14.6 C!Ti

111. ."1'''''1' ill tbe Ali,:!, 1979 16A x N.S em

Ill. ti; m,,.k,, 11>7')

24.8 x 16.5 em

123. nmr>pltmJ«/ 1'<"", Tre« 197'1 Ifd x 24 .. ' em

I H. I'I//II/"He< soitb Lochs 197\1 24.7:'1: 16.-1} em

125. A:.h'C It;Jrrit)r.s 1979 16.3" N.8 em

126. The (:rmgap/II.l'e7 I ')7'} 16.5.\ H.I! [Ill

127, Respeto!« que es llf)'tl. 2-\.3 x 16." em

12R. Riumgtu» Stree: Plirk;J}g LOJ 1,)79 16A.x 14.6 em

J ')7'1

[19. Rouiseau. ,:\Jv}Jtl tjr;d ,HfHtJt!11UIJ} 1979 16." x H.6cm

[30. il1,;what/em lhu/~rbr,-fJlmd f 979 J6.5 x 2-+.7 en}

131. The Tuio Flags '1'17'} 11>.4.~ H.7 em

13 2. iIJ",,,,,,htlt(J 1979 16.4 x 24.6 em

133. LOT( ami 0;'10 197'1 16.-1- x 2-.l-.i em

IH. rs. 1"~';Jihl, .lim, I'J;<J 15.9, H.I em

135. Lm,,/scapeofHolTJe 1979 16.4 x 24.(, em

136. Smes Scru/i 1'17') 16,4 x 24.6 em

137. /lik" Shvp lQi') 24.J x 16Acm

IJS. LiherJ)' in Flam,.;· 1979 16.3" 24.6 em

139. NlIc/"t7 Jl.flr Heads 1979 16.3 X 24.5 em

140. Ups 1979 16 x N." em

1 4 I. Isiaml Lmu/sc(}P' 1979 1(0.3 x M.3 em

141. l'eop/"'s Pmjw 1979 j 6.4 X .~H.S "-'111

HJ. Rai"bow 1980 16.4 x 24.i em

I H. 'Irain 7,,,,ks .19'80 16.2 x 24.8 em

j45. Two ")'draIllS 1980 16.1 x 24.4 em

146. Ifbm01I with Curiers/ ')'/'111 with Leuf 1980 Each 11.9;0; li,C) em

147, ClJa71do Park 1980 1(,.5 X N.J em

I-IR. SIJP,,,,-C 1980 lid x H.llern


H'/. IJi!g '!!'ilh IlmW-1J.'tI,l' 1980

24.6 x 16.5 ern

150. IIbllJu/mJt'd S,,,rtj,.rmi 1980 16.-1 x 2~,8 em

151. 41h Sf. FUll Fair Pbot» I1Mrh 1'180
F:1ch 12.1" 19 em
152, Liberr» II ~/CfI"'r.' Att 1<)80
16.+ x 2-4.6 em
153, 'flltll All ,lIfl)' Gro«: 1<)80
16,4"24,, em
IH. "ffmri:J/_\!Op tJ/PUt'}"ft' Rim 1980
16.4' 2+.6 em
155. fla"k"I",/l Pla.l',n 1')80
H,g, 1( ...... em
156. G1.."lk lUI Bri,f;: I'IXI!
16.5 x 2-4.8 em
157, Lio11 flJIlI Ti .. ([,·r I'JHll
24.; x 16.+C1l1
15ft ~r;'/!It11/ ·,,·jlh Sbl>p/';"II Girl 1'!80
2+.8:'\ 16.'" em
1.19, Island Sff1l5t'f 1'180
J6 .... x 2".6 ern I <>(] , Chi"'re,,); Gil""" ['180 16A, H.i em

16[, 01< 1'180

lid, 2-1.6 em

162. 71,,· l'II,,'t and Ihe }'''',mt .IIM 1'180 24,(, x 16.4 em

1 (,.1 1I,,,km Ilmd .md Bnsb <;;"ilb 11,,1/ I'JRO J 6.5 x 24.6 em

164, /Jillt/)' I'iltl 1980 2.f.5 " 16.5 ern

165. RfHumh on Sc:ct;1ul/Jt,""tfm' I ~)HO

14,(, x 1(l.'I em

1M, SCI'mld Ii-.'Cl!lle 51""''':''11) 19~O 1 .. 1-.7 x t6.5 ern


1(". GII';£y,~ 1<)80 il).4 x l-Li con

I(,X, /,,,,,,/I,} U".. 1')80 24.4 x 16.5 ern

I ()9. Viva PlIt71n RiCQ Li/JI"(' )f)80 16 x 24.] em

I TO. Bimbo I 'ISO

16" 24,3 em

I j' 1. Vi,'''''' fir Lo,",',,, Ens) Sid,· 1 'litO

I ().4 x 2-+_ i em

1;2. IH,,' I'J~O It).3 'So 1+.6 em

Ii J. .4rrot:..' EJ]frr;wtr I ()80 24,5, I(d ern

I/ .. J. UJJi()11 SqUtl7'f Park ,lIur{// l')~1 16."" 24,) em

1/5. Pinl: 7r." 19R1

14.5 ;0\ 1t1." en,

Art Gallery of Ontario

Musee des beaux-arts de l'Ontono