The Long View -
Auckland photographs 2014 - 2017
I talked with Melbourne-based photographer and writer Christine McFetridge about my new work photographing the downtown and waterfront of Auckland. Some of the photographs and interview were first published in 2016 in Photodust an online not-for-profit Asia-Pacific curation project.
Christine McFetridge: Cities in New Zealand are at the mercy of the land upon which they are built. The references in your photographs to temporality; construction sites and shipping containers, and singular people moving through space, make me think about the simultaneous period of change in Christchurch as a result of the earthquakes. There’s even a visual reference to the Westpac Rescue Helicopter service. Auckland’s waterfront is built on reclaimed land and surrounded by dormant volcanoes. To what extent does the fraught relationship we have with nature inform the series?
Mary Macpherson: When I started the work I was attracted to the idea of photographing the CBD and waterfront of Auckland, a city which is the site of much of New Zealand’s wealth and power. The city seems to be re-inventing itself rapidly in the 21st Century. I imagined the work would be about newness. But as I’ve progressed I’ve been startled to find traces of a much older Auckland – buildings and walls and fugitive little windows and businesses. I’ve come to think of the place almost as an archaeological site which is having its soil rapidly turned over.
This reminds me that Queen St, Auckland’s main street, in pre-European times was the site of the Waihorutiu Stream. Of course the stream didn’t survive the desire to build a city, so if you take the long view perhaps the fabric of Auckland has always been in a state of flux and change driven by economic and social pressures.
CM: That in particular is something that really struck me about your images. A sense of progress being made, or the attempt at it. We’re able to look down into glassy high-rise structures that reveal open-plan offices and board rooms and at advertising campaigns for luxury items pasted up alongside new building developments. But. Between the cracks, if you look closely, are those architectural reminders of the past. When you’re thinking about composing your images, is this something that you’re aware of on a conscious level?
MM: Over the past two years I’ve become drawn to work that has strong emotional and psychological impact. It’s not necessarily work in my territory, but it’s made me want to move away from a structured documentary approach in favour of just responding to what I’m drawn to ‘out there’. So I’m instinctively attracted to something like the razzmatazz of the bungee jump and when I start photographing I feel my way into the elements of the bigger landscape. But the reminders of the architecture reminders of the past are often a surprise that comes when I’m reviewing the work. Now that I know they’re there I’ll be interested to find out whether that influences what I see.
CM: I’m also interested to know more about, for want of a better word, the rolling temporary nature present in the series. You have a number of references to carnivals and to other cultures; with this in mind, and Auckland’s reliance on its geography, the changes could very well be happening for one night, and one night only. As a country so removed from the action that occurs in the rest of the world, do you think global cultural influence has affected the way the city is developing?
MM: I’m not enough of an expert on global culture to comment to whether it is influencing Auckland’s development. But I have photographed at the downtown fan zones of international events in the city and they do have a curious ‘big world’ sort of feeling to them which I find really interesting to photograph. Also Auckland is a large Polynesian city and the proportion of Asian and other non-European immigrants in the population has increased. You’d like to think this would be reflected in the built environment.
CM: Certainly. I think it’s an inevitable factor - you hope developers take into consideration the various people who make use of such a space. Could you talk a little more about what draws you to this ‘big world’ feeling? How much does this feeling differ for you when you make work around your home in Wellington?
MM: As soon as I wrote the words ‘big world’ I thought you would ask, and I would have to answer! It’s a feeling of signs and promotions and structures on a very big scale, looking confident, surrounded by head offices – a bit like the way the old Hollywood studios had their credits rolling in at the beginning of movies. Also, although I know that events take months and months to organise, I’m interested in the feeling that outrageous things have been made-up overnight. I probably am attracted to it because it’s different from the intimacy of Wellington city. Wellington has its ambitions, but never has the sense of scale and sky of Auckland. The series I’ve done in Wellington is about the steep rugged hills of the city suburbs and the relationship between the hill and settlement. It’s much more about the dominance of the land.
CM: There’s always a human element present in your work but it’s usually very subtle. What interests you about the way people interact with an urban or natural space, and does this everyday-ness inform your poetry as well?
MM: Because I am photographing implied human presence and histories in the built environment, I normally don’t include people in the photographs. However, in the crowded Auckland CBD, it seemed impossible to frame an image without people moving through it. So I made the pragmatic decision to go with flow and include the occasional person. It might make the images more playful but, hopefully, if I’ve got the balance right, there’s also a sense of that person moving through a much larger urban scape – a sense of human frailty in the cities we’ve built. If you’re walking along the street you are conscious of the sheer busyness of shop fronts, traffic, other people etc, but as the photographer I’m making a scene where the person is a small part of a mega landscape of buildings, signs, streets and sky – the kind of feeling you get when you’re on higher ground looking into the city. I’m interested in the shift in perspective – what is reality?
I keep my poetry separate from my photography but I think of my photographs – at least the good ones – as a form of poetry. If they are successful, hopefully they have their mysteries, evoke emotions/associations or create metaphors. I also get a thrill out of photographing words – things like the ‘fun’ in ‘functions’!
CM: Do you approach the construction of narratives in your photographic bodies of work in a similar way to writing a poem?
MM: No it’s not the same as writing a poem. Sequencing individual images into a whole that takes the viewer on a journey is like putting together a manuscript of poems or, if I was a musician, an album of songs. I don’t want to make a literal story with a beginning, middle and end, but I want to catch the connections and associations between images, provide contrast and give the sense that you’ve moved through an intense set of ideas. I think sequencing is the most important thing in putting a work together - it’s where you create the depth and engagement, be it a photobook or book of poems.
CM: Do you foresee a project of this kind (a book) materialising in the not-too-distant-future?
MM: I’m working towards a project/book but I’ve got more to do before the total work has the depth and penetration that I’m after. Doing this extract of images and talking with you has been a treat along the way. It’s also made me reflect on my practice and that might be useful going forward.
The photographs in The Long View were mostly made in Auckland's CBD and new waterfront development areas.
Christine McFetridge's work can be found at http://christinemcfetridge.com
Auckland photographs 2014 - 2017
I talked with Melbourne-based photographer and writer Christine McFetridge about my new work photographing the downtown and waterfront of Auckland. Some of the photographs and interview were first published in 2016 in Photodust an online not-for-profit Asia-Pacific curation project.
Christine McFetridge: Cities in New Zealand are at the mercy of the land upon which they are built. The references in your photographs to temporality; construction sites and shipping containers, and singular people moving through space, make me think about the simultaneous period of change in Christchurch as a result of the earthquakes. There’s even a visual reference to the Westpac Rescue Helicopter service. Auckland’s waterfront is built on reclaimed land and surrounded by dormant volcanoes. To what extent does the fraught relationship we have with nature inform the series?
Mary Macpherson: When I started the work I was attracted to the idea of photographing the CBD and waterfront of Auckland, a city which is the site of much of New Zealand’s wealth and power. The city seems to be re-inventing itself rapidly in the 21st Century. I imagined the work would be about newness. But as I’ve progressed I’ve been startled to find traces of a much older Auckland – buildings and walls and fugitive little windows and businesses. I’ve come to think of the place almost as an archaeological site which is having its soil rapidly turned over.
This reminds me that Queen St, Auckland’s main street, in pre-European times was the site of the Waihorutiu Stream. Of course the stream didn’t survive the desire to build a city, so if you take the long view perhaps the fabric of Auckland has always been in a state of flux and change driven by economic and social pressures.
CM: That in particular is something that really struck me about your images. A sense of progress being made, or the attempt at it. We’re able to look down into glassy high-rise structures that reveal open-plan offices and board rooms and at advertising campaigns for luxury items pasted up alongside new building developments. But. Between the cracks, if you look closely, are those architectural reminders of the past. When you’re thinking about composing your images, is this something that you’re aware of on a conscious level?
MM: Over the past two years I’ve become drawn to work that has strong emotional and psychological impact. It’s not necessarily work in my territory, but it’s made me want to move away from a structured documentary approach in favour of just responding to what I’m drawn to ‘out there’. So I’m instinctively attracted to something like the razzmatazz of the bungee jump and when I start photographing I feel my way into the elements of the bigger landscape. But the reminders of the architecture reminders of the past are often a surprise that comes when I’m reviewing the work. Now that I know they’re there I’ll be interested to find out whether that influences what I see.
CM: I’m also interested to know more about, for want of a better word, the rolling temporary nature present in the series. You have a number of references to carnivals and to other cultures; with this in mind, and Auckland’s reliance on its geography, the changes could very well be happening for one night, and one night only. As a country so removed from the action that occurs in the rest of the world, do you think global cultural influence has affected the way the city is developing?
MM: I’m not enough of an expert on global culture to comment to whether it is influencing Auckland’s development. But I have photographed at the downtown fan zones of international events in the city and they do have a curious ‘big world’ sort of feeling to them which I find really interesting to photograph. Also Auckland is a large Polynesian city and the proportion of Asian and other non-European immigrants in the population has increased. You’d like to think this would be reflected in the built environment.
CM: Certainly. I think it’s an inevitable factor - you hope developers take into consideration the various people who make use of such a space. Could you talk a little more about what draws you to this ‘big world’ feeling? How much does this feeling differ for you when you make work around your home in Wellington?
MM: As soon as I wrote the words ‘big world’ I thought you would ask, and I would have to answer! It’s a feeling of signs and promotions and structures on a very big scale, looking confident, surrounded by head offices – a bit like the way the old Hollywood studios had their credits rolling in at the beginning of movies. Also, although I know that events take months and months to organise, I’m interested in the feeling that outrageous things have been made-up overnight. I probably am attracted to it because it’s different from the intimacy of Wellington city. Wellington has its ambitions, but never has the sense of scale and sky of Auckland. The series I’ve done in Wellington is about the steep rugged hills of the city suburbs and the relationship between the hill and settlement. It’s much more about the dominance of the land.
CM: There’s always a human element present in your work but it’s usually very subtle. What interests you about the way people interact with an urban or natural space, and does this everyday-ness inform your poetry as well?
MM: Because I am photographing implied human presence and histories in the built environment, I normally don’t include people in the photographs. However, in the crowded Auckland CBD, it seemed impossible to frame an image without people moving through it. So I made the pragmatic decision to go with flow and include the occasional person. It might make the images more playful but, hopefully, if I’ve got the balance right, there’s also a sense of that person moving through a much larger urban scape – a sense of human frailty in the cities we’ve built. If you’re walking along the street you are conscious of the sheer busyness of shop fronts, traffic, other people etc, but as the photographer I’m making a scene where the person is a small part of a mega landscape of buildings, signs, streets and sky – the kind of feeling you get when you’re on higher ground looking into the city. I’m interested in the shift in perspective – what is reality?
I keep my poetry separate from my photography but I think of my photographs – at least the good ones – as a form of poetry. If they are successful, hopefully they have their mysteries, evoke emotions/associations or create metaphors. I also get a thrill out of photographing words – things like the ‘fun’ in ‘functions’!
CM: Do you approach the construction of narratives in your photographic bodies of work in a similar way to writing a poem?
MM: No it’s not the same as writing a poem. Sequencing individual images into a whole that takes the viewer on a journey is like putting together a manuscript of poems or, if I was a musician, an album of songs. I don’t want to make a literal story with a beginning, middle and end, but I want to catch the connections and associations between images, provide contrast and give the sense that you’ve moved through an intense set of ideas. I think sequencing is the most important thing in putting a work together - it’s where you create the depth and engagement, be it a photobook or book of poems.
CM: Do you foresee a project of this kind (a book) materialising in the not-too-distant-future?
MM: I’m working towards a project/book but I’ve got more to do before the total work has the depth and penetration that I’m after. Doing this extract of images and talking with you has been a treat along the way. It’s also made me reflect on my practice and that might be useful going forward.
The photographs in The Long View were mostly made in Auckland's CBD and new waterfront development areas.
Christine McFetridge's work can be found at http://christinemcfetridge.com
