I HEART GREGORY CREWDSON

Now that I have jumped on The Blog Ship, one of my first ports of call is to share with you the works of one of my favourite photographers! Some of you may be aware of his work but for those who are not and appreciate the subtly macabre then get ready for......

GREGORY CREWDSON

I first discovered Crewdson in 2007 while working at the V&A. There was an exhibition called Twilight which together with the Surreal Things: Surrealism and Design, Leonardo da Vinci : Experience, Experiment and Design and... uh Kylie exhibitions, I was able to see at no cost.... over and over again. This luxury fed my obsession with Crewdson - his meticulous attention to detail meant that each time I looked at one of his photographs I found something new in it. There were several arresting pieces by artists other than my beloved Gregory including Philip-Lorca di Corcia, Bill Henson, Robert Adams, Chrystel Lebas, Liang Yue and Ori Gersht but his work in particular seemed to get into the creases of my brain, sprout roots and stay there.

Once exposed to a photograph by Brookly born Gregory Crewdson, it is easy to spot his work. Most of his pictures are taken using artificial twilight, bathing his staged domestic scenes of distinctly American homes and neighbourhoods in almost supernatural blue light reminiscent of a Sci-fi movie still. The power of this lighting effect produces uncannily atmospheric images which immediately evoke strange feelings of unease. A feeling that something is awry. A bit Perverse. Unsafe. Hidden. Sometimes, the scenes are in fact perfectly normal, like a man sitting at a diner or a car waiting at a traffic light demonstrating how the light can completely transform the meaning of the scene. At other times, the composition of his photographs capture frozen scenario’s which are inherently removed from normality and this is intensified by the light. One thing I love about his work is that he captures moments. It literally feels as if the people in the pictures were going about their business until you turned your gaze to look at them but I will let his work speak for itself...