From Rick Coulby - Asger Carlsen

This image is from Asger Carlsen's series "Wrong". Carlsen plays with our understanding of the human form. He aims to disrupts our understanding of our own reality by creating impossible forms constructed from multiple images. In their final form they exist as psuedo sculptures but sit within the medium of photography. The forms remind me alot of the figures depicted in paintings by Francis Bacon. The fact that his aim to toy with our own conceptions of reality the work is undeniably uncanny.

From Adriana Serrato - From Stalker, by Andrei Tarkovsky, 1979

Stalker is a film by Andrei Tarkovsky, a Russian film director, in 1979 which is an adaptation of the novel Picnic by the Roadside by Boris Stragatsky and Arkady Strugatsky. Stalker is a film about three men who travel in a forbidden area known as the Zone. The film is considered a science fiction as it portrays the world were the logic of our reality does not apply, as in the Zone everything from objects to landscape seem to rearrange themselves as they please, there is no fluid comprehension or establishment of the environment. The three men are in the pursuit of a room that has the power to make wishes true. Andrei Tarkovsky successfully creates a very dark and almost ominous film, there is a feeling of solitude as the shots are set up in a manner where there is a lack of human activity. The following images are instances of the uncanny in the film. Every environment is minimally lit and the architecture seems old and abandoned. This idea of abandonment brings up the notion of the haunting, as the environment seems to be haunted by a past life or a greater power. The environment in which the scenes are shot seem to have had a utility and possibly activity in a previous life. In the first few instances of the film we enter a room by the window, a very slow pan into the room takes place. These slow camera moves add to that unease feeling the viewer may experience from the shots. The director also uses fog as well as industrial scenery as a tool to create a sense of loneliness and with the immense and infinite environment a sense of smallness.The shots of the film mimic a post-war scenery as if the environment had experience disastrous disfiguration. The film questions the reality, physicality and function of our life as well as the notion of religion and hope.

From Colin Wheeler - Duane Michals - The Old Man Kills the Minotaur, 1976

The Old Man Kills the Minotaur by Duane Michals, 1976 Silver Gelatin Print

First off, Duane Michals is one of my all-time favorite photographers. His photographs are so engaging and each give a different feel and tell a different story. But to me... a lot of his work has a very uncanny feeling. This particular image is a part of a sequence that Duane Michals shot all entitled "The Old Man Kills the Minotaur". What stood out the most about this photo in an uncanny way is the eerie feeling it gives because of the lighting and the movement effects that Michals employed in this image. Another reason this photo seemed uncanny is the emptiness of the space (which is in a large number of Michal's works). Duane Michals often incorporates text with his photo sequences to help employ emotion and philosophy. I think it's pretty obvious that his work exudes emotion and that emotion to me is a strong sense of the uncanny.It even reminds me of spirit photography because of the "spectral mist" that is created by the lighting and movement. I also thought it looked like a representation of a dream as well because of the aesthetics and subject matter of this image.

Melies - Up-to-date Spiritualism (1900)

And since we are focusing mainly on photography, here's some Man Ray, another Surrealist. This is La Marquise Casati.

Joel Peter Witkin, "Dog on a Pillow", 1994. Gelatin silver print.

I first encountered this image in Tom Beck's cultures of photography class, during an overview of Joel Peter Witkin's work. He is a strange man and artist across the board, traveling the country to photograph the grotesque. He explains it best in the afterword of Gods of Earth and Heaven: “I need physical marvels—a person, thing or act so extraordinary as to inspire wonder: someone with wings, horns, tails, fins, claws, reversed feet, head, hands. Anyone without a face. Pinheads, dwarfs, giants […] Active and retired sideshow performers, contortionists, anyone with a parasitic twin, people who live as comic book heroes […] Beings from other planets. Anyone bearing the wounds of Christ. Anyone claiming to be God. God.” Inspired by his parents' differing religious views, a fatal accident he claims to have witnessed as a child, and a three year stint as a war photographer in Vietnam, Witkin is drawn to the sorts of images that originate in nightmares. The most disturbing part of his photography is the lack of context: we don't know why the large naked woman reclines with breathing tubes in her mouth, or why the old man is poised to drill a nail into his own, and that makes it all the more creepy. "Dog on a Pillow" has the same disorienting effect... Whose face is that? Is it real? Is the dog itself dead or alive? Most importantly, why? It is precisely this ambiguity that causes the uncanny effect.

Troy Colby, Mystical Portraits, Beloit, KS

I found this image searching through some of my favorite photographer's works. I googled Troy Colby's Mystical Portraits remembering how strange they were. This photograph is uncanny to me along with the rest of the series because you have these two children in masks who are what looks like "playing". Its a very dark scene here. Of course it staged, but i find it to be this dark play time that "normal children" don't do. You see this bunny girl choking a younger male with a mask with a chain. How is he being lifted in the air? Why is she choking him? Even though you can't see her face with the mask it looks as if she could possibly be enjoying this. Their close date the photo with the dress. Although this photo was taken at a different time. I like that the edges of the photo are dark which enhances the dark feel.

This is Europe After The Rain II painted by the Surrealist Max Ernst, 1940-42. Many factors give this an uncanny feeling for me, the most of which is the method with which Ernst applied the paint. The method is called decalcomania in which paint is applied using another surface such as paper or glass. The second surface is then peeled away resulting in bizarre 3 dimensional paint. Here, the landscape looks as if it has melted or is rotting. Another uncanny element is the bird headed soldier, a common motif for Ernst. The subject of this piece is political in nature but even if you don't know it's origins, it remains uncanny, maybe even more so. Many Surrealist paintings utilized themes which were recognizable but then distorted in a way the viewer wasn't used to. This brings to mind many things we've discussed in class such as the living doll. Surrealists also gained much of their inspiration from dreams, the subconscious, automatism, and more specifically, the writings of Freud which were extremely popular at the time. 

From Brittany Moore - The Crozet Tunnel

Recently a friend told me about the Crozet tunnel, which is a historic railroad tunnel, built in 1850. At the time it was the largest tunnel in the world reaching 4,237 feet in length, almost one mile long. The tunnel has been abandon for many years, but people still hike through the tunnel today. I originally was told about the different sounds that are and can be created through a tunnel this long; I also think there is something uncanny about the natural sounds we can’t always explain (the sounds happening in a dark tunnel). The thing that appeals most to me about this image is the idea of a dark tunnel/ entrance into a dark space. Not knowing where the opening will lead and what is inside, this can convey a strong feeling of the uncanny. In researching the tunnel one of the articles said it was “without doubt one of the most eerie places I’ve ever been”, I think you can get a sense of that feeling from this picture. You can also see a fog like shape through the middle of the entrance to the tunnel, which as Marina Warner's said “the camera could apprehend this spirit body in a way that fallible human eyes could not.” There are stories that the tunnel is haunted by the Irish immigrants who work and died building the tunnel and it is up to the viewer to decide if this is fog or spirits caught on camera. Overall the most interesting aspect of this photo is the mysterious or unknown realm within.

From Kate Plourde - Walker Evans: Interior View of Heliker/Lahotan House, Walpole, Maine, 1962

Interior View of Heliker/Lahotan House, Walpole, Maine, 1962 - Walker Evans

This photo by Walker Evans is part of a book he created called Message from the Interior. The book consists of shots of rooms that are sometimes inhabited and sometimes not, but that always have an uncanny feeling to them. There is a sense of deep sadness and loss that permeates the images.
This photograph in particular has an uneasy quality to it. There is a feeling that either something terrible is wanting to come out. That if you go down the hallway you'll meet whatever is waiting. There is no explanation provided as to why the room is empty or why all the doors are open. There is a mystery here and the viewer feels compelled to solve it, even if it leads to something unpleasant.
The light source also contributes to the uncanny nature of the image. A window seems to be providing most of the light in the foreground although there is only a suggestion of it in the actual image. Towards the back of the image, most of the interior is in shadows except for a very bright spot on the very back wall. There is no logical source of the light that can be seen and so it creates a very disorienting effect.
The way the doorways simultaneously create and opening to the next rooms and create barriers to them also serves to enhance this disorientation. What is seen and what remains hidden is what makes the image uncanny. It is haunted by the possibilities it contains.

From Ben Granderson: Eihoh Hosoe - Kamaitachi

Aesthetic and Symbolic Uncanniness

This photographer that made this image is Eihoh Hosoe and the man making the horns is Tatsumi Hijikata. The image is taken from a larger narrative of images that makes up a book called Kamaitachi.
The Kamaitachi was a mythical weasel creature that moved at lightning speed and cut the legs of farmers as they worked the fields. Others believe it was the vacuum created by a dust devil that would cut the farmer. Over the course of three years, Hosoe and Hijikata created an evocative narrative focused around the person moving from the city to the country-side. And as they moved they swept into the country-side like two Kamaitachi’s, producing images that were uncanny and evocative.
Hijikata in the book, which is comprised entirely of images is supposed to be a Kamaitachi and the representation of the post WW2 Japanese man’s mindset, confused and obliterated after having Western ideology destroy much of the country’s imperialistic cultural mindset. As Hijikata descends upon a remote village he slices open the world and the lives of the people and landscape around him like a Kamaitachi and through Butoh style dancing and expressive acting he exposes his and Hosoe’s views of life post WW2 realized in a contradictory state in rural Japan. Hijikata hides in fields, runs like the wind and acts with the locals. Sometimes they don’t see him as he watches them from rooftops or in sheds, other times he hides alone in the dark crying. Interspersed are images of Hijikata involved in sexual with young Japanese girls. Eventually, we lose track of what or who Hijikata is in the story. All we have to go on are the short explanations and texts from Hosoe and the editors of the book; we are left with the rest.
The photos become uncanny and surreal because of the evocative nature of Hijikata’s actions and Hosoe ability to capture an image at the moment when Hijikata transforms into the Kamaitachi. In Butoh, the actor does not pretend or act like the thing in mind, he or she becomes the thing and lets it out naturally, they don’t suspend their objecthood or hide behind it, they become it entirely. When Hijikata became the Kamaitachi, he was the mythical creature, and in turn, was able to use the Kamaitachi’s characteristics to showcase the modern japanese mindset. As the viewer studies Hijikata’s facial expressions and bodily contortions we feel uneasy and something sinister. We think he is a mad man in some images and other he looks like someone who has not grown out of the age of three. Words can’t always describe what is felt in Hosoe’s images because in addition to Hijikata’s odd and slightly sinister actions, Hosoe’s style of shooting itself is theatrical and slightly warping. If we are to assume that there is a more documentary style of image taking, where the tones are unmanipulated and the angle the image is shot than Hosoe is the antithetical documentarian. He uses varying contrast in his book, selective lighting, his angles feel fluid as if he moves his body with Hijikata’s and other times he frames Hijikata so other details from the rural landscape creep in.

The selected image of Hijikata on the street in a small Japanese village exemplifies uncanniness, which is ever present in the book, because it leaves us with unanswered questions. The image is not a composite, Hijikata really did do this in front of all of these people, he immersed himself and became the Kamaitachi unflinchingly in front of everyone. His face gives off a sinister look and attracts our attention and he makes a set of horns with his hands. He arches his body forward like he might charge. A woman looks at him and so does a child, and this creates a relationship between the three of them. The feeling of something sinister might happen because the boy on the trike gives us the feeling that he is vulnerable to the sinister Hijikata. Yet, the most important part is, no one else gives him any attention. We want to know why? Is it that they do not care, have concern with him, or is it symbolic of the rural person state to not give head to the modern mad man’s state. Hosoe’s hand is also felt and is present within the image, where his camera becomes the true stage for Hijikata’s performance. He selectively frames Hijikata, so that a triangulation is formed between the woman, Hijikata and the boy on the trike, so our attention is drawn to the sinister actor. He then tones this image so that the important details have highlight while the more important forms, such as the silhouette of the boy produce directional lines. (For me, the graininess of the image feels raw, just like the intended purpose of the story).
Hosoe’s 1969 image is uncanny for me because there is the suspension between the real and unreal. The image is not a composite, so I know the event happened and it has familiarity to me. However, the events and stylistic photo techniques of the image give me a feeling that something isn’t right and something wrong is or may happen. And further yet, the text that accompanies the book, which the image is in, makes me even want to search more for answers that I have trouble seeing. Finally, the known symbology of the image itself feels not entirely straightforward, this is really hard for me to state.

From Ashley Vangemeren - Henry Peach Robinson, "Fading Away," 1858

Henry Peach Robinson, Fading Away, albumen print photograph, 1858
I had first seen this print in person at the NGA during their “Faking It: Manipulated Photography before Photoshop” exhibition. For this post, I Googled the photographer’s name and the image came up, like magic!

Robinson used five negatives to create this scene of a family surrounding a young woman/loved one on her deathbed. The intent was to be seamless, hence why the tones are evenly rendered. When it was produced, controversy rose surrounding the subject of the image, questioning whether or not death was an “appropriate” subject for photography. Though for whatever reason, death wasn’t the first thing that struck me upon viewing the print. It was simply the process and intent to piece together a world in which we, the viewer, interpret as authentic and natural when clearly something feels strange, out of place and uncanny.
Ever since I saw it last year, I’ve been fascinated by the print. I’m intrigued by the concept of the constructed image and truly wish I could focus on the technical aspects that initially caught my eye i.e. the velvet quality of the grain, the rich tones, etc. Though as I keep studying the image, I start feeling uncomfortable. I feel uneasy and trapped in something I know isn’t “real” or something that doesn’t seem like it “actually happened” and feel as though the event is legitimate. I find myself desperately trying to find flaws that would help me escape the illusion created but I can’t. I’m perplexed by the implied symmetry of the composition, and the way the dying woman in white mirrors the woman dressed in black. I connect it with the black/death white/life parallel, which feels to be an uncanny “coincidence”. It also speaks to the concept of mirrors and its relationship to the uncanny.
I also find the expressions and body language of the family around her to be strange, as though they are emotionless statues gazing beyond her form. Nothing feels truly present or gone; everything feels like it’s in passing, like a scene reflecting purgatory or limbo. In fact, the only figure that I could read as believably present is the man facing the window, only because his body language seems appropriate. Yet faceless, even eye-less figures appear un-human because there’s nothing to connect to. My uncertainty and hesitation to further explore the print, in fear of being trapped, puts the print in the position of the uncanny and the realm it supports.

From Lorenzo DeAlmeida - Photograph by Gary Hoffman

This photograph was taken by Gary Hoffman on September, 14th 2013 at the Rock Creek Churchyard and Cemetery here in Washington, DC. Hoffman, a Washington DC artist, is well known for his uncanny and bewitching photographs. Indeed, this image creates the illusion that the statue is is motion, coming forward in space, and is crying or perhaps bleeding. Hoffman achieved this ominous, ghost-like effect by simply changing the color settings of his camera. He focuses on the commonness of his surroundings and frames his shots carefully, creating extraordinarily mesmeric narratives.
While this photograph has not been superimposed with ghostly images, such as those we read about in this weeks essays, Hoffman successfully achieves this ghostly quality by creating a dramatic and unsettling image, with a dissonance that both repels and attracts us; it is undoubtedly related to what scares us, what makes us feel uncomfortable. In truth, what strikes me the most about this image is its ambiguity, its ability to arouse feelings of uneasiness, darkness and solitude.