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A reward for watching is that in one film the machinations of the artists are revealed. The scene is staged
overlooking a backyard fire pit and the subjects, Amber and Brad at home are patiently, and with just a
touch of hesitation, allowing themselves to be captured on film and are featured in several prints. In stark
contrast to the strewn-filled scene of the young couple, the photographers are portrayed in an almost
majestic view. With complete clarity, a staged backdrop frames this matched set of highly synchronized
artists operating a massive large format camera. Each half of the pair knows their role so well that their
movements are efficient, and yet, posses a quirky, theatrical flair.
Despite being the rural cognoscenti, this show presents a dilemma and acts possibly as a cautionary tale.
How can these two photographers, Julie Lindemann and John Shimon from Manitowoc, Wisconsin,
continue for decades to cultivate this aura of supreme assurance in their photos? Shouldn’t we have to
uproot and trade in all we have gathered for a moment in the gallery lights here in the world’s art mecca?
My guess is they would say “perhaps, but why” - but there is a catch. Unfortunately this body of work is
consistent with the images that have built their reputation upon throughout the Midwest, and this show
does little to expand on S & L’s visual language. Though no fault of their own, this is largely due in part to
the ease of existence in the city they have chosen to make art in, and by continuing to chronicle the sublime
beauty of the simple life, they may have found themselves inextricably woven into its fabric.
It is a choice considered daily here in the city: sacrifice space and quality of life for a constant stream of
fresh challenges and inspiration, or take your talents back to the hinterlands, set up your dream workshop,
and create your masterpieces. Perhaps in a future exhibition by a young Wisconsin photographer we will
find the artists as curious subjects, valiantly supporting the alternative scene in a dense cluttered
background filled with the tools of their trade. Until then I am thankful for their reminder that truly being an
individual is not codependent with the zip code of your mailing address.
- Jason Rohlf
Jason Rohlf, formerly of Milwaukee, is a painter living and working in Brooklyn, and taking in exhibitions
with his daughters Cyanne and Audrey and his partner Guinevere.
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
| Holly, Kiel, Wisconsin, 1996 |
| Trish and Matt downtown |
It Takes One to Know One
J. Shimon and J. Lindemann
Sarah Bowen Gallery, Brooklyn, NY
September 15 through October 22, 2006
In a neighborhood of the world’s self-described purveyors of all
things hip, there currently lays an opportunity at the Sarah Bowen
Gallery to confront the very thing we are so desperately trying to
revision away or emulate - depending on your level of self
confidence. I am referring to the confirmation or denial of our
small town roots.
The show, by Wisconsin’s Shimon & Lindemann, is presented
as an exhibition of photographs and a video projection, but may
actually be a skillful test, set to measure our perceived
uniqueness. Peering out from the walls of a tastefully converted
garage is a series of masterfully executed portraits and
landscapes from rural Wisconsin’s keepers of cool. Having
included a panoramic shot and video of the Lake Michigan
shoreline, this could be taken literally.
By defining “cool” I’ll put forward characters cast in scenes
showing subtle hints of regret and other people so comfortable
with their own sense of self that we can’t help but wish we all
came across this way in our daily lives. Dairy princess, Angela
with Kit in prom dress beams proudly with her Holstein cow, while
the unkempt apartments housing the town’s punks, Brett and
Nigel with Huber suggest equal contentment. In comparison, I
found them not at all different from the impeccably disheveled lot
skulking the sidewalks of north Brooklyn.
The majority of photographs consist of disaffected boys and girls,
both young and old, who don’t care how discriminating your taste
is or how exclusive your college was, as seen in Dylan and Brett
downtown. To me, these subjects raise an interesting question:
By living in a big city, are you actually contributing to the
advancement of individuality or are you just allowing New York to
shape your seemingly singular talents?
To further empower the indifferent gazes emanating from the
photos, they all seem strangely content. A chosen life on the
fringes is comparable whether in downtown Manitowoc or
Williamsburg, Brooklyn, right? But despite all the pitfalls of having
yet to leave their hometowns, Trish and Matt downtown do seem
strangely content and even, though smirkingly, happy.
The nostalgic feel of the photos expands to a large projected
series of film shorts in the rear of the gallery. A highlight for my
family, they ranged from a jenky / indie / rock / folk / revival band
fronted by the artist J. Shimon with percussion by J. Lindemann to
a thoughtful time capsule capturing the life of a local Two Rivers
man, who was likely the last possessor of the skills needed to
maintain a linotype machine which he was born into operating.
J. Shimon and J. Lindemann
Sarah Bowen Gallery, Brooklyn, NY
September 15 through October 22, 2006
In a neighborhood of the world’s self-described purveyors of all
things hip, there currently lays an opportunity at the Sarah Bowen
Gallery to confront the very thing we are so desperately trying to
revision away or emulate - depending on your level of self
confidence. I am referring to the confirmation or denial of our
small town roots.
The show, by Wisconsin’s Shimon & Lindemann, is presented
as an exhibition of photographs and a video projection, but may
actually be a skillful test, set to measure our perceived
uniqueness. Peering out from the walls of a tastefully converted
garage is a series of masterfully executed portraits and
landscapes from rural Wisconsin’s keepers of cool. Having
included a panoramic shot and video of the Lake Michigan
shoreline, this could be taken literally.
By defining “cool” I’ll put forward characters cast in scenes
showing subtle hints of regret and other people so comfortable
with their own sense of self that we can’t help but wish we all
came across this way in our daily lives. Dairy princess, Angela
with Kit in prom dress beams proudly with her Holstein cow, while
the unkempt apartments housing the town’s punks, Brett and
Nigel with Huber suggest equal contentment. In comparison, I
found them not at all different from the impeccably disheveled lot
skulking the sidewalks of north Brooklyn.
The majority of photographs consist of disaffected boys and girls,
both young and old, who don’t care how discriminating your taste
is or how exclusive your college was, as seen in Dylan and Brett
downtown. To me, these subjects raise an interesting question:
By living in a big city, are you actually contributing to the
advancement of individuality or are you just allowing New York to
shape your seemingly singular talents?
To further empower the indifferent gazes emanating from the
photos, they all seem strangely content. A chosen life on the
fringes is comparable whether in downtown Manitowoc or
Williamsburg, Brooklyn, right? But despite all the pitfalls of having
yet to leave their hometowns, Trish and Matt downtown do seem
strangely content and even, though smirkingly, happy.
The nostalgic feel of the photos expands to a large projected
series of film shorts in the rear of the gallery. A highlight for my
family, they ranged from a jenky / indie / rock / folk / revival band
fronted by the artist J. Shimon with percussion by J. Lindemann to
a thoughtful time capsule capturing the life of a local Two Rivers
man, who was likely the last possessor of the skills needed to
maintain a linotype machine which he was born into operating.