Critical Focus:
A.D. COLEMAN
Defining the Peaks among the Plain
Bill Jay
If an electrocardiogram were attached to the body of contemporary critical writing
about photography, the signs of life would be meagre indeed. The screen would
project the flat line of near-death with only a few sharp peaks to indicate that there
is the faintest hope of recovery.
Most of the highest and brightest peaks are being generated by the writings of
A.D. Coleman.
Peaks can be defined only in contrast to the surrounding plains so it is worth
expending a few words on the dearth of fine critical writing in photography in
order to see Coleman more clearly.
In the past couple of decades a new type of critic, and therefore a new type of
critical writing, has dominated the medium. And, yes, I do mean “dominated” if
the periodicals under review are restricted to those which purport to service the
more serious, fine-art aspects of photography. This will come as no surprise to
those of you reading these words. Because I am ever-anxious to appear judicious,
tempered in my responses, surpassingly fair to the sensitivities of my colleagues
and balanced in my appraisals, I will merely assert that the new-critic is an
academic hack of minor attainment whose motivating force is self-aggrandizement
through the regurgitation of shallow ideologies presented in graceless, tortured
prose of utter incomprehensibility and sprinkled with irrelevant quotations from
third-rate French philosophers.
As we are all aware there is a predatory instinct in a small, but seemingly growing,
segment of the public – the idea that things (money, possessions, power) should be
entitlements, handed over without payment in hard work, commitment to clear
goals, the risk of failure or any investment in time and care- Muggers, for
example.
The photographic equivalents are intellectual muggers, known as academic critics.
Many of them have no commitment to communication, have no interest in
learning the craft of clear writing (or thinking), have no generosity of spirit or love
of photography, have no hard-won life-attitude which encompasses the medium,
have no respect for their readers or humility in their positions of power. Instead
they are quick to identify the victim, whether person or issue, and bludgeon it into
insensibility with the blunt instruments of pseudo-intellectual jargon and dull
wittedness (and a conspicuous and characteristic lack of good humor) while they
bask in the approving glances of their fellow gangsters and smirk at their
Rightness.
The medium’s periodicals which pretend to the more thoughtful band of the
photographic spectrum are full of writings by individuals who do not work at the
craft of criticism, but presume that the opportunity to express their prejudices and
ideologies is an entitlement, not a hard-won responsibility.
Against this background, the achievements of A.D. Coleman stand out in sharp
relief.
Why? Just what is it about him that deserves your respect and attention, if not
your agreement on every issue?
The succinct answer is that Coleman, in his writings as in his life, consistently
displays a deeply felt photographic “conscience”, a sense of the moral imperative,
a conscious intent towards what is right and good. I write these words with some
trepidation, in the knowledge they are apt to prompt the gagging reflex in the
cynical and jaded, and in the awareness that A.D. himself might disavow such
heady aspirations. Nevertheless, I am convinced this “conscience” is not only
evident in all his works but also an essential prerequisite for all works of
importance, irrespective of the medium or field. A reviewer of A.D.Coleman’s
first collection of essays was seemingly disturbed that “In terms of its literary
genre, Light Readings approaches the personal journal…[it] is biographical.”
Precisely. The essays are suffused with a deeply felt life-attitude, and this
awareness of authorship presumes a willingness to take moral stands on issues
which, in turn, demands a personal courage which is singularly lacking in others
who might, indeed, find such a conscience intimidating.
These personal imperatives are not overt but implicit in the text, because Coleman
is too busy in the proper business of the critic. W.H.Auden has defined the
functions of the critic in such a succinct list (The Dyer’s Hand, Random House,
1948) that it bears repeating. The critic, says Auden, “can do me one or more of
the following services”:
- Introduce me to authors or works of which I was hitherto unaware.
- Convince me that I have undervalued an author or a work because I had not
read them carefully enough. - Show me relations between works of different ages and cultures which I could
never have seen for myself because I do not know enough and never shall. - Give a “reading” of a work which increases my understanding of it.
- Throw light upon the process of artistic “Making.”
- Throw light upon the relation of art to life, to science, economics, ethics,
religion, etc.
I would challenge anyone to name another critic in the medium of photography
who fulfils as many of Auden’s functions as A.D. Coleman.
There is an interesting reason for this uniqueness: Coleman’s beginnings were in
the areas of play-writing, poetry and music. Although he is now a full-time
professional critic, these talents are still avocations and remain the literary
background of his observations on photography. Most fine critics of the past were
primarily photographers who espoused and advocated particular and personal
rationales for their image-making. Although these observations were often astute
and convincing, of necessity they were narrow of focus.
Not since the Photo Secession has a critic emerged from outside the ranks of
photographers who has committed himself with such verve to the medium of
photography – and brought to his writings the benefits and insights of a broad
literary perspective.
Since 1968 Coleman has breathed fresh air into the otherwise moribund corpse of
photographic criticism and almost single-handedly kept its spirits alive.
Trust me. Read him.