A black-and-white photograph of an old-time movie theater, complete with flowing velvet curtains and ornate golden carvings on the ceiling is striking in itself, but in the center, where a film should be projected, the screen is a blaze of white.
The entrancing image is one of many by Hiroshi Sugimoto, one of Japan’s most beloved contemporary artists, on display at the Hirshhorn. Containing roughly 120 of Sugimoto’s black-and-white photographs, the retrospective exhibit is a significant, detailed overview of the artist’s career.
The Hirshhorn’s high-ceilinged, unadorned gallery space is a good match for Sugimoto’s minimalist aesthetic. The exhibit occupies most of the museum’s second floor and is broken up neatly into separate rooms based on subject matter. These divisions highlight the variety of the photographer’s work. The viewer is likely to be surprised by the fact that the material represented in one room is dramatically different from the art in the previous display.
Sugimoto often represents subjects that are themselves representations of reality, and he is known for his innovativeness. Good examples are his wildlife portraits, which, upon closer inspection, turn out to be stunningly lifelike dioramas of stuffed animals. Similarly, Sugimoto photographed sculptures from Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum, which create astonishingly human portraits of Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn and other notable historical figures who died long before the invention of the camera. The intended effect of these pictures is to make the viewer “question reality,” Sugimoto said.
Indeed, one of the best aspects of the exhibit is the ability to read what Sugimoto has to say about his own work. No series is without a relevant quote from the artist prominently affixed to the wall nearby. This added information is quite useful to viewers, especially those who are unfamiliar with Sugimoto’s unique techniques.
The “seascapes” section of the exhibit displays most prominently Sugimoto’s famous minimalism. In a dark room painted black, spotlights shine down on individual photographs of various bodies of water with no boats or swimmers—just water, horizon and sky. The “seascapes” may sound simple, but in reality they are overwhelmingly complex. I saw museum-goers stand before them for 10 minutes at a time, trying to find out where the ocean ends and the sky begins. One of the nighttime seascapes looks like a plain black canvas. Upon closer inspection, one notices the small ripples in the waves, captured by Sugimoto’s attention to detail.
The weak point of the exhibit is Sugimoto’s architecturally-focused photographs of the Chrysler Building, World Trade Center and other architectural landmarks. The blurry images lack the striking black-and-white contrasts of his earlier works. Unlike his representations of humans, animals and the natural world, the “architecture series” lacks the humanity so important in engaging the viewer.
On the whole, however, the Hirshhorn’s retrospective is a significant showcase of an influential figure in contemporary photography. Sugimoto is at once distinct and versatile, with a style that, while unmistakably his, is always tough to pin down. His original creations manage to excite both the eye and the intellect.
