Over the course of the past three to four years, photographer Jeff Cowen worked intently on a new body of work about Provence in the south of France. The results of his efforts emerged as more than 200 unique pieces of art, and about 60 of them are now on show in Amsterdam at simultaneous exhibitions by the Van Gogh Museum and Huis Marseille Museum of Photography.
It’s the kind of work that you really need to experience in person to get the full impact. The prints are mostly very large, and Cowen has performed his darkroom alchemy on each of them — using chemicals, toners, tree branches, brushes, rips, tears, and paints — to create sculptural abstractions from nature that are stunningly unique.
Cowen speaks eloquently about his work and his processes, and we’re delighted to present this 9-minute video of him talking about “Provence Works”. We also include a selection of the featured works for your appreciation. Enjoy!
Transcript of the Video Commentary
Here is a written transcript of Jeff Cowen’s comments in the video. This has been edited slightly for clarity.
This is Provence Works. It’s a joint collaboration between the Huis Marseille Museum of Photography in Amsterdam, where there are approximately 50 works, and at the Van Gogh Museum where we have six works.
I approached this project differently than most of my other projects. I approached it more in the fashion as if I were a writer. I just kind of insulated myself from the commercial world and the art world, and I just worked really very quietly, without any interruption for three or four years.
I needed to do this because Provence has a very significant history of art, particularly with Cézanne and Van Gogh. And it’s become kind of a cliché. I thought it was quite interesting that since those two artists, there have been very few bodies of work that have come out of this area. And I soon realized why, because it’s very hard to transcend that cliché.
After about six months, I started becoming quite depressed because I thought, you know, I must be kind of an idiot trying to do a body of work on Provence in black and white photography, because the colors and the light are so profound there, and it seems really antithetical [to work in black and white].
Well, ultimately, I find that it’s very helpful to be confined by your medium, because it forces you to develop a new language and approach it in a new way.
For example, one of the things you’re overwhelmed with in Provence is the sun. The sun is a kind of main character, and it’s so overwhelming sometimes during the summer. You have three months, there’s no rain, and there’s just this sun and it batters your brain and it becomes very surrealistic. The days go by and you’re in this kind of dreamlike trance and, you know, how do you put that down in a work of art?
How do you convey that? I think one of the challenges as a visual artist is how do you express your inner life in a compelling, interesting fashion and to share that with the viewer.
I use all kinds of instruments and techniques in the darkroom. Sometimes I’ll use actual tree branches or olive branches. I pin everything up so they take on a three dimensional form, because I really have a problem with flat paper. I want them to be sculptural.
Writing is a pretty important part of my practice. I wake up most mornings and I just free write; it’s very important to me to just unload. I work from my subconscious a lot. One morning, I was working on my journal, and the light was on the book, and it was so beautiful seeing the words illuminated by the sunlight. So, my journal started to arrive into my photographs.
Saint Victoire is a UNESCO heritage mountain in Provence. It’s where Cézanne was painting. I think he made approximately 30 paintings (maybe even more) of this mountain from all different angles. It’s really a prime character in Provence, Saint Victoire. Wherever you go, you can see it from a distance.
And it’s really a sacred mountain. It’s very hard to articulate the energy and power of this beautiful … rock. You know, you could have a really bad day, and you go out on the mountain, and the mountain doesn’t care about all your human problems. And it just silences your mind when you look at it. And I wanted, when people look at this picture, that their mind just goes silent and they’re just in this kind of eternal sphere. Because that’s what this mountain does to you.
I’m interested in this because it seems like it’s alive and that there’s some movement in it and vitality. Traditionally, I think people try to capture a very specific moment in photography, an event, and I’m actually trying to do something quite the contrary. I want to show the immortal nature of my subject and to keep it alive.
One of the reasons I got into photography in the first place was, I had a lot of energy and didn’t really know what I wanted to do and was interested in everything and I thought photography would be a great vehicle for me to explore life.
This diptych is titled Cassandra, named after the woman in the image. I’m particularly fascinated by this work because this work transcends a portrait. You feel Provence in her expression, and you feel something really sacred by looking into her eyes. It’s a very mysterious quality about her.
Photography is this really magical art form. I’m constantly trying to see what I can do with it. You have all these kind of strange experiences. And you want to put it down, yeah? Like a writer.
This diptych is of a woman named Wendy. I thought she’s quite representative of Provence, because Provence has a really fascinating history. It was inhabited by the Romans. And, she has this kind of Latin, mysterious presence about her and I particularly like how she’s just sort of coming out of nature, part of the nature behind her.
This really intense, direct light, probably bouncing off the Mediterranean and hitting her right square in the face. You see these really strong shadows that you don’t have in other parts of the world. And it kind of creates the architecture of her face. And [with the diptych, you get this], really strange, mysterious moment, in between a breath.
In order to talk about this work, I would have to talk about the darkroom, because I spend probably 97% of my time in the darkroom and maybe 3 to 5% out photographing. Especially in Provence, where the light is so bright and powerful, and then you go into this dark room to try to remanifest the light, you know, it starts to mess with your head.
And it’s a dance, yeah? And then you come out of the dark and you have this new entity, this piece of paper and, hopefully, maybe a work of art.
When I was living in Provence, I continued one of my pastimes. And that is to look for old negatives. We found this old negative that had never been printed before, and I held it up to the light and saw it was a painter. So I took it back and I gave it a life. I just thought it was really wonderful, this character painting on the side of the road. And he’s got this abstract painting there. And then I decided to … finish his painting for him.
