Index
Tenderness
The temptation to look for commonality among a group of graduating students ought to be resisted, not least out of respect for the individual students themselves. They are about to part ways with whatever experience they may have had as a ‘cohort’ (what an awful word that is, with its Roman-military etymology). They will each part in their own way. No need to brand them upon exit.
Nevertheless, I cannot help but notice the tenderness in much of the very varied imagery here. Nothing is harsh or calculating; nothing is brash or flashy; nothing is conspicuously knowing or overly keen to impress. For a generation or so, all of those less than tender qualities were what put photographic art of the map. Maybe it had to be smartly calculating and demonstrably so, to assert itself against the prejudices the medium routinely suffers. It had to look tough, like it knew all the angles and references. But something has changed. I think it is to do with tenderness, and I think it’s notable in the works of these particular image-makers. Allison, Angela, D'Angelo, Dawn, Elizabeth, Jane, Morgan, Sean, Robert, and Rory.
Photography escapes definition. If it did not, it would have been consigned to the 19th century like so many other inventions of that era. More than anything, what keeps it open and vital is the world itself (photography’s subject matter) and the subjectivity of photographers. It has been a cruel year or so, for everyone, and for some a lot more than others. Priorities, individual and collective, have been shaken and reset. Subject matter and subjectivities are re-emerging, tentative and fragile. We know a camera can fix and objectify, but in good hands and eyes it can also cradle lightly and offer. It can evoke the tenderness of the world awaiting meaning.
—David Campany
