Who can say what it is that causes that jolt of electricity and recognition when you connect with a person, place or idea on such a cellular, cosmic level. Whatever it is, Duane Michals' work does it for me.
Madame Schrodinger's cat:
Or this one: "No American has the right to impose his private morality on any other American."
Or this one from his recent book, a biting satire "how photography lost its virginity on the way to the bank" a send up of some of the biggest photography art stars going (many of whom I really quite like). Who is Sidney Sherman?
The accompanying text: "Sidney paints his fingernails shocking pink a brilliantly audacious gesture that exposes the dis-corraborative gender bias of Revlon's vacuity, while trenchantly confirming lipstick as a phallic ploy of alpha males vis-a-vis Derrida's strategies of dis-corraboration."
His tattle-tales from the land of fauxtography includes such gems as:
- Never trust any photograph so large it can only fit inside a museum;
- The announced demise of the decisive moment is premature; and
- Museums should never exhibit photographs of visitors looking at art in museums to visitors who are looking at art in museums.