ZA :

In 2016, you led a course with MoMA titled, Seeing Through Photographs. What immediately struck me was the word ‘through.’ To see ‘through,’ an image, as opposed to see an image. Could you elaborate a bit upon this idea in photography, and what some of the key learnings were during the engagement with this course?

SM :

We thought a lot about the title, and for me, the awareness we were hoping to encourage was indicated by Philip-Lorca diCorcia’s quote, “photography is a foreign language everyone thinks they speak.” It was the realisation that a photograph doesn’t mean what it’s of. The subject can be disentangled from its significance or the artist's intent. You can try to see through that subject to develop an understanding of what the photograph means. And I think it was also important to understand that photographs had a physicality to them, so a part of using the word through, was to help develop an attentiveness to the materiality, and a reminder that we were speaking about things – billboards, projections, phones, screens, and prints – not simply images devoid of form. The course made me aware of a group of people who were as committed as I was to really thinking about images around the world. We had an incredible team of colleagues across education as well as digital media who were passionate and thoughtful about where this would go. But I don’t think we ever anticipated what it would become, and I think COVID and the fact that people were at home, gave this course a second life.

ZA :

As someone who has traversed both worlds, of photography within the museum (MoMA), and now photography in the artist’s space (Aperture), I was wondering if you noticed any similarities or differences in the way the two operate?

SM :

I'm glad you think of Aperture as an artist space. And it is, but it's also a space where artists and audiences can connect. In terms of what they both have in common, both support artists, listen to artists, and hold forward their visions. Many of the artists I loved working with at MoMA, including Dorothea Lange, Sally Mann, and Wendy Red Star, are held in the same high regard at Aperture. Aperture is also a space to try and connect those visions and voices with photo-curious people, those who have a causal relationship with a camera. In terms of how they differ, I guess it's largely a question of form, which seems obvious. At a museum, there is a more object-based approach, and Seeing Through Photographs was an expression of this. At Aperture, this is often done through the printed page of a magazine, book, or online publishing. We’re now relaunching a free educational course called Aperture On Sight, which is anchored in that translation of an artists' vision onto the printed page. It is placed in Aperture's history in the same way that Seeing Through Photographs was anchored in the museum's collection. There are many histories of photography to be told and the one that Aperture can tell best is through the work we do as a non-profit publisher.

ZA :

When you mentioned the ‘object-based approach’ in the museum space, it immediately brings me to the work of Dayanita Singh who has managed to bridge the gap between the book as an object in a museum, as well as one within the publishing world. I was wondering what the future of something like this looks like to you, and what kind of work would the next generation of photographers have to make for it to hold as applicable in a museum space?

SM :

Well, that’s an excellent question. In some ways, for as generative and radical as what Dayanita has done, it's easy to imagine future manifestations and cross-fertilization. While I loved seeing Dayanita’s Museum of Chance at MoMA, the registrars and the conservation staff struggled to allow an ongoing tactile, physical relationship with the work. Martin-Gropius-Bau had a gorgeous retrospective of her work, an ode to the book object, that was still static on some level. If museums can learn how to accommodate the fullest expression of what Dayanita is putting forward - for instance, at the Indian Museum in Kolkata, she urged them to put her photographs in the hallway, open to the elements – it could be a counterweight to their inherent (and often appropriate) conservatism. You have to be somebody of Dayanita’s stature to push for it. But in part, what makes her so special is that she is able to harness her great vision and the respect that everyone holds for her across the globe, and that's not an easily replicable thing.

ZA :

I’m currently reading The Lonely City by Olivia Laing, and I find it so intriguing that the works of multiple artists from different fields can be read through a singular lens. Now, while Laing uses loneliness as her central character, the works of Edward Hopper for example, could mean something else for someone else. Since art isn’t absolute, how does one build an understanding around the reading of art?

SM :

Good curators notice or highlight in an artist's work something that honours what that artist was trying to do. You’re in dangerous territory when you're harnessing someone's work in the service of an idea that doesn't have to do with their work at all. But as a writer, especially a creative writer, I don't think you hold a similar responsibility. A curator, in the truest sense of the word, means that you're caring for a collection of objects, and you're thinking about sharing those objects with the public; and while you might not be in control about what somebody is going to take from an experience, it’s your responsibility to honour the intent of the maker.

ZA :

What is the one idea about photography that you’ve carried with you that has only been further cemented during your practice?

SM :

Wow, I have never thought of that. I suppose the one thing that has been cemented, ever since my time in college, was the realisation that I am not an artist, making peace with that, and properly honouring the people who are.