Close-ups of nano

One of the most interesting things about nanoscience in general is the way that it plays with your perspective on dimension. Things which are mysterious on the level that they are too enormous to fully grasp, versus things that are complex in machinery you can't even see without a microscope. Tiny or large, it reminds you of your own limits in perspective.

So it's really interesting to have that perspective turned around: see close-ups of careful designs that turn out to just be scans of the skeleton of small sea creatures; or artful photographs of things like the machinery of a music box, the parallax reflections of a water drop, colors of bacteria. This is what photographer Felice Frankel does (www.felicefrankel.com). I interviewed her recentlyfor Popular Photography.

Felice Frankel has been called a "photoscience journalist," because what she does is so specific; it's a kind of cross between documentation and art of scientific concepts. As she pointed out in our interview, "Photographs of research itself can often be uninteresting;" her mission is to make pictures of research look beautiful. She got her start with scientist George Whitesides by making a photograph of hydrophobic and hydrophilic surfaces look, through careful arranging and composition, look like an array of Chiclets (which ended up on the cover of Science magazine). Later, she collaborated with him on this book, which is out now.

The image I've posted here is an illustration of a nanoskin, which is the surface along a drop of water that keeps and makes it a drop, instead of just water about to fall. The colors you see in the background are a palette of colored squares; if you look closely into the droplet of water, you can see the reflection of this backdrop, on a very small level.

Part of what's so interesting about Frankel's work is that it searches for aesthetics in fact-based regions; it's pictorially investigative, and looking to make a difficult-to-understand medium not just comprehensible, but also lovely. The book is worth picking up also because Whitesides' prose makes complex nano thought easier to understand; it's great, direct prose, that uses metaphors to make the concepts easier to understand. Frankel's photos make it more so. And I love this image particularly because it is a reflection of things that are tiny and large.

Lacan At The Scene

One of the more interesting books that has come across my desk recently is “Lacan at the Scene,” by Henry Bond (MIT Press; $25), which takes the reader across various crime scenes alongside narrative of both the crimes and the pathology of similar crimes' pathology, as researched by famed psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan.

It is extremely well-researched, as far as crime and of Lacan. Most of the forensic photographs and criminal investigation were culled during a three-year study of murder inveigation at the National Archive; the background onto Lacan's research of abnormal psychology is exhaustive. Through photography and research, it takes you through a narrative (prefaced by Slavoj Zizek) of the background of forensic photography, the psychology of being a detective, and of what there is to witness and analyze at a crime scene: in three sections, the Perverse, Psychotic, and Neurotic. It gives in-depth analysis, via Lacan, of what evidence you see in forensic photography means; why it's relevant, and how it relates to the psychology of the criminal. And it is a fantastic read for anyone who's interested in crime, psychology, and/or critical theory in general.

But it's also a good read for any photographer (who is not squeamish—some of the images are graphic). In the first two sections of the work, Bond delves into the work that it takes to become a forensic photographer and also how the forensic motive translates into the work of some of the greats of our time (including William Eggleston, Richard Prince, and Walker Evans). He references Sophie Calle's photography of abandoned hotel rooms; her images of the few personal items cluttering an otherwise impersonal landscape mimic a forensic photographer's images of things that might be evidence; such as a lipstick-stained coffee cup, stubbed-out cigarettes in an ashtray, a forgotten toothbrush or coat. You might easily think of other works—I'm thinking of Alec Soth's Niagara, and many paintings by Edward Hopper--but the interest in what makes a dispassionate or voyeuristic lens, is what remains.

“Forensic photography,” more than most types of photography, demands objectivity. More than even news photography which, as Bond writes, might often be selectively edited to fit the news or the news carrier's interpretations. Bond goes a little bit into how forensic photography that seems in any way prejudicial might later be attacked in court, as “a vital resource which must never appear to be exhibiting a bias, nor incorporate anything that a hostile defense lawyer might seize upon.” Forensic photographers are discouraged from using anything that might insinuate special-effects; let alone Photoshop, not even a wide-angle lens is allowed. Everything has to be photographed in a way that is “normal,” i.e., 50mm lens, and to compose images, forensic photographers must rely only on their viewfinder and their feet.

Kathleen Davis did a story recently on forensic photography for Pop Photo, which went into interesting innovations on low-light technology that are not just aesthetic but practical (in terms of criminal justice). There's a psychology behind this photography too that Bond goes into alongside analysis of the criminal mind; emphasis on things that “seem not to fit”, a la Bataille, such as those coffee cups and lipstick stains; positions taken that might suggest that of a criminal spectator, standing back from the scene; an emphasis on the setting around the crime that might bear witness, such as dark windows in nearby houses, where a murder may have been observed (by voyeurs like the camera's voyeur).

Bond frequently evokes crime-fiction masterpieces, such as those by Hitchcock, in referring to the photographs inside the book; you can't help but think how forensic photography is as tied to the genre of thriller as psychoanalysis is. Without Lacan, we might not have had the plot; without forensic photography, or pre-forensic photographers such as Eugene Atget, there wouldn't be a style basis for noir cinema. And then you'll think of Eggleston and Calle, or of any great photographer that has lingered, post-noir, on the mundane, in a way that makes it seem less trivial; how much have they learned from photographers who look at a scene only as evidence? This is how I view the book's photography lesson: to study as evidence.

Also, in terms of Bond's book, I really recommend reading it (again, as long as you're not squeamish; or criminal). Outside of having interesting views to things such as criminal pathology and abnormal psychology, it has its teachings on how to focus your exposure.

Titular

I've taken down the old blog from lorifredrickson.com. I haven't archived any of the posts since, you know, we are in a new decade. But I hope to be updating this one more frequently.