Noah's Ark
When Gazes Meet: Jeff Wall and Pedro Costa in Conversation
Jeff Wall and Pedro Costa

This conversation between two artists, Canadian photographer Jeff Wall and Portuguese film director Pedro Costa, took place in Lisbon on the occasion of the opening of the exhibition Jeff Wall – Time Stands Still. Photographs 1980-2023, at MAAT – Museum of Art, Architecture and Technology (which can be visited until the end of August). The meeting of these two gazes and two voices evokes the great appreciation that the photographer has shown for Pedro Costa's films ever since he saw Ossos, testifying to a mutual admiration and a communion of intellectual interests. Both have developed a long and deep reflection not only on their own work, but also on the artistic disciplines they practice. In the case of Jeff Wall, this reflection has taken the form of essays on art, where his relationship with cinema is clearly visible, but also with painting and literature. Pedro Costa, for his part, also pushes the boundaries of cinematographic art in his work and reflections, making incursions into the territories of photography and painting. This created an open space for dialogue, for mutual inquiry, for measuring affinities and differences. It is this conversation, held exclusively for Electra, that we are publishing here.

ANTÓNIO GUERREIRO  Pedro is a filmmaker, Jeff is a photographer, but I think there is a possibility of a dialogue between the two in the way Pedro dialogues with photography in his films and Jeff dialogues with cinema. In this respect, Jeff even has a concept, the concept of 'cinematographic'. What do you mean by this concept?

JEFF WALL  Pedro mentioned earlier that he doesn’t think that cinema is a visual art. And I completely agree even though paradoxically there’s so much to see in it. Pedro, maybe in your view, it’s not even strictly a photographic art, even though there’s so much photography involved in it. Cinematography, for me, is simply the photographic techniques developed by filmmakers in order to make films. That involves technical ‘wizardry’, extensive use of artifice at various levels, and highly refined camera technique. When I first started taking films seriously, I began to recognize the fact that we can appreciate and experience them the same way we’d experience any serious work of art, a painting, a poem, a sculpture. I’m thinking of films by Bergman, Fellini, Truffaut, and so on. And I was fascinated by the beauty of the photography. So it occurred to me that the people who were making these images were indeed photographers, but they had access to a way of being photographers that was different from what had been considered the orthodox idea of what photography was. They were free from the conventional aesthetic criteria that dominated photography for about a century. When I got serious about my own photography I realized that I could detach their methods from cinema and treat them as legitimate photographic technique. What I do has nothing specific to do with cinema as such. I’m not even that interested in the cinema, I’m interested in the way the cinema looks.

AG  And you, Pedro, what do you say about that?

PEDRO COSTA  I still like photography. Maybe I’m a bit of a photographer too. But I used to like photography much more. I guess I also used to like cinema much more… This already tells you a lot about where I’m at, about my present state… I mean, it may tell you a lot about my disappointment and even exasperation regarding all that is image and all that concerns the reproduction of reality. I’ve never lost my attachment to this idea that we desperately need images of our world. So for me it has always been a very close, intimate and realistic means: photography, film.

AG  Do you prefer painting? Do you have a stronger relationship with painting?

PC  It’s not that. When I was younger, I loved photography. I used to follow some photographers. I liked photobooks. But, as I said, the same happened with films. I see many more films from the past. The classic films that formed me, those I saw and loved when I was younger, still are the ones that move me every time. And like you, I rarely go to a theater to see a new film, I’m not at all hungry, not even curious. There’s also the blunt fact that I still have to catch up with a whole lot from the past…

JW  Do you think that you’re essentially a realist?

PC  You may ask but I think I cannot answer. I would reverse it and tell you the same, and you would be as embarrassed. No, but I’m not.

JW  I’m not embarrassed. I think I am a realist, at least in the mainstream of what I do.

PC  I’m trying to approach. I’ve always tried to approach reality.

JW  Do you think the camera determines our realism? The camera itself, the presence of it, because we couldn’t do what we’re doing without it. That is, the automatic capture becomes a fundamental frame of reference. I’m curious about your affection for the camera as such. I learned to really admire my camera. I realized that I had to try and imitate it and be like it to do what I’m doing. Do you feel that way?

PC  You should despise this cold, dumb machine. And in these digital times it’s becoming pathetic: every six months there’s a new marvel, they come up with a new camera and a set of new super slick lenses, and they say ‘here’s the ultimate 8K’ or ‘this new handy camera shoots in pitch black nights without any light’. It’s a Spring / Summer kind of situation, a Fall / Winter collection. It’s awful. It produces films that resemble this hysteria: void, formless, superficial… Anyway, like you’ve said, it’s because of the camera that a film or a photograph of our reality has a chance to come to life. Not always, though. We don’t do films in life… our eyes deceive, they are quite opaque. The camera calls for reality. And you need that call. At least I need it. It’s because you have a camera that you can do this job. Without the camera, I most probably wouldn’t be another painter or another musician. I have a few friends that are painters, photographers, sculptors, musicians – and very fine craftsmen they are – but I have this idea that film is still the best instrument that can move us closer to the reality of being. Let’s not be too philosophical here: I’m in favor of starting from the most basic cliché and then working on up… a man or a woman with a camera should be sensible and always be affected and patient towards the most basic reality around them… if they want their film or photograph to think and make us think. Then, in the end, with some luck, film might join metaphysics.

"I still like photography. Maybe I'm a bit of a photographer too. But I used to like photography much more. I guess I also used to like cinema much more." (Pedro Costa)

jeff wall

Jeff Wall, Volunteer, 1996 © Courtesy of the artist

 

pedro costa

Pedro Costa, Vitalina Varela, 2019 Film, 124 min, Portugal

 

JW  But by doing anything with a camera, we are also witnesses to the appearance of this device in history. That we, that is, we photographers or we, camera users, are the primary witnesses to the phenomenon of the camera. Because aside from what story you’re telling or what moment I’m depicting, we’re also both witnessing and enacting the occurrence of photography. We’re enacting the presence of photography itself. I think that animates what we’re trying to do, and causes our dependence on the real.

PC  When I was closer to photography, when I was younger, I had some friends that were photographers, and right away photography seemed to me a bit simpler than film. I don’t mean it negatively. In some aspects, I’ve always regarded it as the most difficult art. Or craft. But it seemed a breezier way of life… less dependent on the nuisances and troubles of money, society and all that. And you work quickly and almost only depend on yourself. On the other hand, and for lack of a better word, documentary seemed a prerogative of photography. All the photographers I loved and admired were plain realists: Evans, Frank, Arbus, Riis, Atget… Everything avant- ‑garde or experimental, either in photo or film, just bored me to death. But let’s be clear: I’m not preaching or pretending that photography or cinema should fulfill any social function. Nevertheless, I can imagine no better documentaries about a certain society, a social class and its economics, its sentimentality, than the lavish Hollywood studio productions of the thirties, forties and fifties. No, reality is not that obvious or simple to portray. Sometimes you need filters and curtains and metaphors and even a bit of imagination to straighten up reality. There’s not one single way of approaching it. It can be a chimera, a dream, a fantasy. But it is also true that behind all the illusion and manipulation, film and photography almost naturally marry reality. It’s the tangible world in front of the lens. It’s click, click, on, off. After some time I felt that cinema accepted me. And that the camera did not refuse me. I guess all the filmmakers and photographers must feel a bit the same. This is my craft. And yes, the kick and the push that documentary can give fiction, it’s still very important for our work.

AG  Documentary is also a very important word in Jeff Wall writings. Jeff, what do you call ‘near documentary’?

JW  What I call ‘near documentary’ is similar to what in film might be called ‘docu-fiction’. The essence of photography is exactly what the so-called ‘documentary’ tradition has always been – the dependence on the immediate appearance of the world. I consider that to be the central identity of any aesthetic idea of photography. But I wanted to contemplate the effects of documentary by doing something else. That means adding other actions, other considerations to the sheer capture of appearance. I see that happening in Pedro’s films – the emphasis on the actual but also a sense of your dissatisfaction with the sheer capturing of it. A sense that you need to bring out something you feel about it that no one else can – you can’t communicate otherwise. I feel that what I do is a subjectivization while being still being devoted to the objective element. The equipment itself obliges us to behave that way, as I just said. So there’s a limitation that we try to overcome by adding something to it. The first film I saw of yours, Ossos, struck me as intensely poetic, with something restless in relation to the actuality that you were obviously very devoted to.

PC  It’s just that there’s a lot of work to do… It’s like those exhausted, broken guys in Conrad’s novels… there was so much to do! We’re now preparing a film – by we, I mean our small team of four or five – and it’s starting to happen all over again… It’s not that we try to complicate things, it’s just that there is a rich world in front of us and there are a lot of things to do… I don’t know if a painter could say there’s so many things to do, I suppose he’s in a sort of abstraction already at the starting point. But when you’re a filmmaker, a photographer, I think things cry out for concentration, for a kind of reduction. And that’s really the first and last step of your work. I like watching, and most certainly, you like it too… Jacques Tati used to say: ‘My happiest time is when I sit on a bench for a whole day at Orly airport and watch people coming and going.’ I like watching life, the movement of things. But then there’s the reconstruction, an organization, and the necessary critique of all that. That’s tough. Working out what’s wrong and what’s right, adjusting the balance between the two sides of the camera… Like Buñuel said, a film should always make us feel that something is not right. Or, in other wise words, any responsible film should make it clear that you cannot bathe in any river anymore.

JW  When you’re working with people, what provokes you to intervene?

PC  Well, it changed over time, and this change has brought me some hope. You know, film is something very dark, it’s very desperate at heart. And it’s frightening. We’ve been repeating that the camera makes you see what you wouldn’t see without it, but you’re the operator, you’re the brain, the heart and the nerves… We’re talking about a violent act. Obsessive. So, over these years, I’ve learned or I’ve taught myself to work with people, and it’s the work with the people that can bring back some gentleness to this fight. No difference here between non-actors, actors or characters. It’s just conversing, conjuring and trying to find a common path to walk with them, find some interesting directions. And that work with people has grown on me and gained and conquered me… In my beginnings I was sickly fascinated by other things. Take editing, for instance, montage. It’s known that it’s a substantial part of the making of a film, maybe the most obscure or mysterious. Even Godard struggled to define it. And like all of us, I placed a lot of trust in the editing. I craved the beauty of a visual shock or a clever association. Now I’m much more interested in how far we got with the people, the actors. It all depends on their work, the performance – let’s call it like that just to simplify. And this work is a kind of research, a discovery, not only of the film itself but also about the people in front of the camera as well as behind it. So the way you chose to organize your production will determine much more than how sophisticated your light equipment will be or how delicious the catering. It will affect form. The small video digital cameras helped a lot. I remembered that Chaplin did it on film. He could do it because he was the most famous and richest filmmaker on the planet. He called it ‘rehearsal on film’. Nowadays it’s relatively cheap. It means that we can film the rehearsals or the attempts.

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