Evaluating Art - Main Street

Walker Evan's 1931 photo called "Main Street, Saratoga Springs, New York" continues to haunt me. Why? It's as if there's something THERE, but I can't put my finger on it. Why does this photograph speak to me? Why does it call me? Most of all, why does it haunt me? There is something uncomfortably insistent about this image of a rainy day, with barren trees, and rows and rows of seemingly self-replicated cars. What is it about this photo that impresses me, and why do I feel so uncomfortable with that impression?

This photo would absolutely fail, I think, were it reproduced in color. There is something so satisfying about seeing the gradations of black and white, and the similarity of tones is such a satisfying complement to the unity of what's seen - rows and rows of cars, limbs and trunks of trees, luminescence of rain on the pavement that glistens and guides our eye through and around the photo.

Truly, this is a black and white world, a world of the interplay of line and light, of texture and tone. The sheer GRACEFULNESS of the image is overwhelming! The way every object is cleanly delineated, the way lines lead the eye up, down, and around, the way the rain glistens - all these add up to an image that energizes as it soothes, and that satisfies as it upsets.

Why do I say the image upsets me? It seems to be too simple! It is of nothing - a bunch of cars, some barren trees, a wet walkway. So what, I want to shout! What makes THIS image so great?

And great it is. Not because the photo historians call it so - indeed, I have never even SEEN this photo classified as "great". Oops, the very image I gaze at tells me this is not so. There beneath the title and identifying description are Kate's words about Walker Evans: "His sense of composition and space are unparalled. His work both commercial and documentary rings with truth and vision."

So - I am not alone in seeing this image as awesome. But still, I'm left wondering - what does that mean? What is compostion? A sense of space? What is truth and vision?

When I first viewed this photo (2/6/06), I looked online (2/11/06) to see what was so special about Saratoga Springs. That is - why is the location of the street, the town, and the state given such prominence in the naming of this photograph? And what does it matter? Let's see...

Saratoga County was "the fruitful hunting ground of the Iroquois Indians". The word from which Saratoga comes, "Sarachtogue", means "hillside of a great river." The website on History in Saratoga County continues by saying Indian trails crossed the County in all directions due to "its favorable position in the angle of the Hudson and Mohawk Rivers." Fur trading was a part of the economy, and mineral springs were used as medicine. In 1777, Saratoga was the site of "the first significant American military victory during the Revolution," and "the Battles of Saratoga rank among the most decisive battles in world history."

Lumber was the source of the next economic boom, followed by the establishment of mills for the tanning industry and for water power. The mineral springs brought international fame to the county as people such as Daniel Webster, Martin Van Buren, Washington Irving, Andrew Jackson, and Franklin Pierce came to visit. Such people as "Vanderbilts, Whitneys, Rockefellers, J.P. Morgan, "Diamond Jim" Brady, Lillian Russell and others added glamour to the County."

With the influx of the wealthy came their popular pasttime - horse racing, in 1863. In the 1930s came "gamblers, gangsters, bookies, pimps and prostitutes." Edna Ferber's "Saratoga Trunk" immortalized the city's name.

A map of Saratoga Springs shows the trown's street names - Broadway, Church, Washington, Lake, Union, Crescent, Geyser, West - where's Main Street, I wonder?

Maybe that's the point. In Walker Evan's image of "Main Street, Saratoga Springs, New York," none of this matters! (Compare it with this image.) There is no evidence of Indians or fur, nor of racetracks or spas. In fact, all of humanity seems absent from this sight save for the evidences they've left behind - automobiles, sidewalks, and buildings. In the midst of this city street stand tall, slender, elegant trees, undressed yet open to the elements. The limbs reach up or gracefully bow sideways, and some even droop low. These trees seem to stand sentry for a world that is long gone. The animals the Indians hunted are gone; the native Americans themselves are gone; the lumber industry is absent; the glorious past is not present. All that exists are the artifacts of civilization, the black, regimentally lined-up automobiles.. Without any drivers. Where are all the people? Do they live in these houses? Do they work in those buildings? Where is the bustling activity that should accompany this scene?

It's as if the rain were weeping. Weeping for a past that is forgotten, and for a present that is forlorn. The interplay between nature and culture is laid out before our eyes. The rain glistens, the trees glorify, the sky covers all. Stairsteps lead to nowhere, activity is empty, only life is left to bloom - and only in it's proper time. This photograph is of the end of an era - the end of the growing season, the end of a majestic town, the end even of a world view.

Yet it is also a deeply spiritual image. In spite of the substance, the cars and the buildings and the pavings over earth - there is still life. This is, indeed, a "Still Life", worthy of the masters. Evans photo is a masterpiece because it pulls all these elements together, all these innuendos and illusions/allusions, and it let's us see, and leads us to feel, something that's worthy. In the end, we are soothed by this scene - life goes on. It may be hidden from view; it may appear artificial, or regimented, or monotonous; it may feel barren. But hinted at nevertheless is the source of new life - the light, the rain, the limbs all tell us that life lives on. It lifts us up and away from the mundane, and lets us view the heavens above. In the end, Evans lets us celebrate this moment together - this realization that civilization is omnipresent, but it is not omniscient. The elements of nature are necessary to letting us live the life of elegance and productivity we so long for. The majesty of the sidewalk cannot match the bounty of the tree. Evans reminds us here, lest we forget. What a view. What a vision. Complete.