Conflict, Time, Photography

Art

Photography

Tate Modern

Until Tue Apr 14

  • Archive of Modern Conflict

    'A Guide for the Protection of the Public in Peacetime', 2014

    © Tate Photography

    Archive of Modern Conflict
  • Toshio Fukada

    The Mushroom Cloud - Less than twenty minutes after the explosion (1) 1945

    Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Photography (Tokyo, Japan)

    Toshio Fukada
  • Luc Delahaye

    US Bombing on Taliban Positions, 2001

    Courtesy Luc Delahaye & Galerie Nathalie Obadia, Paris/Bruxelles

    Luc Delahaye
  • Don McCullin

    Shell Shocked US Marine, The Battle of Hue 1968, printed 2013

    © Don McCullin

    Don McCullin
  • Simon Norfolk

    Bullet-scarred apartment building and shops in the Karte Char district of Kabul. This area saw fighting between Hikmetyar and Rabbani and then between Rabbani and the Hazaras 2003

    © Simon Norfolk

    Simon Norfolk
  • Jo Ractliffe

    On the road to Cuito Cuanavale IV 2009

    Courtesy the artist

    Jo Ractliffe
  • Installation view of 'Conflict, Time, Photography' at Tate Modern

    Photo: © Tate Photography

  • Shomei Tomatsu

    Steel Helmet with Skull Bone Fused by Atomic Bomb, Nagasaki 1963

    © Shomei Tomatsu - interface. Courtesy of Taka Ishii Gallery, Tokyo

    Shomei Tomatsu
  • Kikuji Kawada

    Hinomaru, Japanese National Flag 1962

    © Kikuji Kawada. Courtesy Michael Hoppen Gallery and Photo Gallery International.

    Kikuji Kawada
  • Chloe Dewe Matthews

    From 'Shot at Dawn', 2013

    © Chloe Dewe Matthews

    Chloe Dewe Matthews
  • An-My Lê

    Untitled, Hanoi 1995

    Courtesy of the artist and Murray Guy, New York

    An-My Lê

Archive of Modern Conflict

'A Guide for the Protection of the Public in Peacetime', 2014

© Tate Photography

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  • Name:

    Tate Modern

  • Address:

    Tate Modern Bankside
    London
    SE1 9TG

  • Venue phone:

    020 7887 8888

  • Venue website:

    www.tate.org.uk

  • Opening hours:

    Mon-Thu, Sat, Sun 10am-6pm; Fri 10am-10pm (last adm 45 mins before closing)

  • Transport:

    Tube: Southwark/Blackfriars

  • Price:

    Free (permanent collection); admission charge applies for some temporary exhibitions

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    1. Tate Modern
  • Categories :

    Art. Photography

  • Type of event :

    Exhibitions

Conflict, Time, Photography 2015

  • Date Time Price information
  • Thu Jan 29
    10:00
    £13.10, £11.30 concs

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LiveReviews|3
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Kate J
1 of 1 found helpful

Heartbreaking exhibition. I think it is honestly the first time I was quite relieved walking into the gift shop. All the destruction and pain, especially the portraits of the people who survived the atomic explosions brought tears to my eyes. It's a huge exhibition and there is a lot to see and try to not cry about. The mass graves, the destroyed towns and villages, that shell-shocked soldier. All I could think of was why?? How do we humans manage to this to each other? So much pain. Endless masses of it and why? Isn't life hard enough as it is? I can't start to even imagine how hopeless it must feel to be trapped in someone's war. The people who had absolutely nothing to do with why the war is going on suffer the most. As one quote in the exhibition said, as animals, we humans are pretty useless (or something in that tone).

MrTimChow

The photos may vary visually, yet hold a single theme – the devastating aftermath of war. 


From powerful images where conflict has left it’s fingerprint to objects which represent those lost,Conflict, Time, Photography takes the audience on an emotional journey. 


Displayed by date taken, the exhibition begins with photographs moments after the act of violence and ends at 100 years later.


Questioning ‘what’s left after war?’, Conflict, Time, Photography displays the brutally honest answers in photographs. 


A real eye opener to the legacy of war, Conflict, Time, Photography is a must see and, for me, will be a contender for best photography exhibition at the end of the year. 


http://www.imwanderingandpositive.com/conflict-time-photography-review-tate-modern-war/

Jayne K

I could appreciate the enormity of the message. I can understand what I am seeing. But feelings so difficult to communicate to put in words. The only connotations that resonate through my experience were the words of Sontage. Funny that, the author whose text has baffled me for many weeks somehow became the voice in my subconscious that could come close to how I felt. It was also great to be in the company of Holly Woodward fellow OCA student a refreshing change to be able to exchange first impressions.


Leaving Sontage for the moment, the exhibition itself was a work of conceptual genius to start with Moments Later and progressing to 100 years on from the war was brilliant. I had high hopes. We are taken on a journey starting by looking back on conflict. This is the exemplary work of Simon Baker, the curator of Conflict, Time, Phoptography. The immediate response of Don McCullin Shell-shocked US Marine, The Battle of the Hue 1968 greets you upon entry to the haunting images of how nature struggles on to conceal past wars as in Chloe Dewe Matthews, Six Farm, Locker, West Vlaanderen 2013.

It was indeed a minefield of pictorial narrative, you could be walking around studying the images and then, bang, something will hit you. I can draw on two specific occasions. Reverse Shadows: A ladder and a person photographed by Eiichi Matsumoto was the first to stop me in my tracks. Look at the image, I’m sure you will agree. The ultimate horripilation however were the solitary images of Hiromi Tsuchida. A wall dominated by four simple images, a lunch box, coat, spectacles and a watch. Extracted from the Hiroshima bombing and reproduced with a single line of text. These personal items that shocked more than the images of the atom bomb or flattened landscapes. Why is this? What made these more heartbreaking than the actual war images on mass. An extract from Sontage’s on photography helps sum it up,To suffer is one thing; another thing is living with the photographed images of suffering, which does not necessarily strengthen conscience and the ability to be compassionate. It can also corrupt them. Once one has seen such images, one has started down the road of seeing more—and more. So, this was why. The sheer scale and endless wars providing image after image of material for photographers as again Sontage writes, But after repeated exposure to images it also becomes less real. Some of the walls of the exhibition were from floor to ceiling you could not possibly see the individual pictures, you just knew each one would be as harrowing as the next. With Tsuchida’s photographs the message was isolated. They said, look longer these were items of victims. These are personal, this is their story. It has a grounding effect a chance to really understand this was real. So was it possible that the walls of the Tate were crowded because of this understanding? Was this the intent to fill us with so much imagery to express the proliferation of war? I was disappointed.

The juxtaposition of isolated works had the impact I wanted to feel. Collectively the images of Sophie Ristelhueber were the only ones that I felt worked. Printed on aluminium I could only describe this luminescent room as beautiful. What a conflict of emotion to find war pictures aesthetically pleasing. The tiled effect of the golden sand pictures some shot from aerial perspective were a marvel. Individually most of the images did not appeal but on mass proved effective. 

There were some other works of note Patio Civil, Cementerio San Rafael, Malaga, 2009 Luc Delahaye, a massive print of showing the remains of bodies hands in pray, chilling. I appreciated the irony of An-My Lê’s Lucky Strike cigarette packet, on the one hand emulating the Japanese flag, the other a hole in the centre of the box. Lucky Strike.

I enjoyed for want of a better word the exhibition. It did however not do what I expected to. Harping back to my Nemesis text I am currently studying I wanted to feel as Sontage had; One’s first encounter with the photographic inventory of ultimate horror is a kind of revelation, the prototypically modern revelation: a negative epiphany. For me, it was photographs of Bergen-Belsen and Dachau which I came across by chance in a bookstore in Santa Monica in July 1945. Nothing I have seen—in photographs or in real life—ever cut me as sharply, deeply, instantaneously. Indeed, it seems plausible to me to divide my life into two parts, before I saw those photographs (I was twelve) and after, though it was several years before I understood fully what they were about. What good was served by seeing them? They were only photographs—of an event I had scarcely heard of and could do nothing to affect, of suffering I could hardly imagine and could do nothing to relieve. When I looked at those photographs something broke. Some limit had been reached, and not only that of horror; I felt irrevocably grieved, wounded, but a part of my feelings started to tighten; something went dead; something is still crying.

I once was was privileged enough to photograph a stage production of Mala and Edek written by Mark O’Connor which is still being shown to this day, it was my first real experience of the atrocities of war. The story was about four individuals in Auschwitz with carefully selected war film footage to finish. After O’Connor’s play there was not a dry eye. My first viewing of Schindler’s List had the same effect. This exhibition sadly apart from the individual highlights did not do it for me I’m almost ashamed to say. Even more bizarrely it continued an assault on the eyes with the end room Archive of Modern conflict. This extraordinary mishmash of war memorabilia and random decoupage had a Pythonesque ring about it and I’m really not sure what they were trying to achieve. My feelings are, take an image just one, put it in a room with no distraction bring home to the viewer a personal immediacy. Take away the onslaught of image after image and maybe then it will strike home. Just because we have all these images why should we be exposed to them all? Less is more. I don’t feel bad knowing I’m not the only one that feels this way.

Thanks Susan.