[Books] Loving Mississippi

by Nientara Anderson
Photos by Ken Murphy
February 28, 2007

How do you express collective memory? It is a question many artists struggle with as they try to capture something larger than themselves, as they try to say something about origins and other people. Ken Murphy’s answer is a book of photographs, and it seems a fitting solution.

In his new book, “Mississippi” (Ken Murphy, $75), Murphy’s work is characterized by a solemnity that is not so pronounced in his previous volume, “My South Coast Home.” Most of the photographs are exquisitely colored—subtly lit interiors and exteriors so still that they have the same effect on the reader as an index finger applied to a pair of pursed lips. The implication is that the reader is being guided through spaces that mean a tremendous amount to a lot of people, so a certain measure of respect is warranted. The other theme is that these rooms and landscapes, these forests and swamps, were the frame and the background to one of the most controversial human dramas in American history. The “Old South,” and all it means to the American imagination, swims through the book, making each image—whether a lonely schoolhouse in a field or the chaotic brilliance of a folk artist’s living room—monumental.

Humans are largely absent from the book. When they appear, the landscape overwhelms them: a mere silhouette against the darkening sky, a blur or red-faced enthusiasm at a bar or a parade. An interesting moment in Murphy’s small stream of obscured human figures is “Bead Man” (plate 20), at Mardi Gras in Pass Christian, Miss. Although this photograph is one of the only photographs in which a human form fills the frame, the figure is so completely encased in beads that he appears more like a walking bead fountain than a human. The only other prominent human form is “Mammy’s Cupboard Restaurant,” which is a restaurant built in the shape of a gigantic black woman holding a tray of baked goodies. Murphy’s depopulated Mississippi adds to the impression that this book is not about individual human moments (which feature more prominently in “My South Coast Home”); this is a book about collective human endeavor and collective identity. Murphy’s work asserts that we can best grasp those subjects by studying the structures humans have created and the changes they have made to the landscape.

One of the more interesting photographs in the volume is Plate 38, “Taylor Grocery, Taylor.” Here, Murphy photographs the inside of what should be a bustling, jovial and irreverent social establishment—the walls are crawling with graffiti, the tables are crowded so close that customers might as well share their silverware, and a sign commands the viewer to “EAT or we both starve.” Yet Murphy has ushered out the people, has neatly ordered the chairs and tables and has taken a rather sad photograph that all but sighs out loud. In the frame, the people who usually populate the restaurant might have seemed caricatures of down-home good humor. Because they are out of the picture, though, we are invited to imagine them driving home, turning on the lights in a darkened house and looking at themselves in the mirror as they brush their teeth. “Yes, this is fun, and we have some good times here,” the picture seems to say. “But where is it all leading?”

Another picture, Plate 78 “Shrimp Boats, Pass Christian Harbor” has a much more uplifting feel—the freshness of the dawn and the privileged beauty of a solitary moment in the morning, before the rest of the world wakes up. Also memorable are photographs of Cypress trees in the Pascagoula River Swamp (Plate 91) and a train trestle in the Pearl River (Plate 94).

These photographs and their purpose are perfectly suited to a book presentation. Looking through a book of photographs is a private experience, much less demanding than looking at photographs on a gallery wall. This book is the perfect medium for contemplating memory and identity—private experiences and countless casual encounters as opposed to a monolithic question. Books offer a linear progression, like moments in time, but they also offer a fluid order of viewing, where one can flip back and forth, linger or hasten as one pleases, much like the jumbled, illogical order of memory.

This book is full of simple, unpretentious photographs that form a loving catalogue of Mississippi. For those who are familiar with the state, “Mississippi” can unsettle you from the familiar and remind you of Mississippi’s beauty. For those of us who are outsiders, it offers a wordless yet sophisticated glimpse into the collective memory of the state.

Signed first editions of Ken Murphy’s “Mississippi” are available at Lumuria. Murphy will be appearing there Saturday, April 21. Call 601-366-7619 for more info.

 
posted by nientara on 02/28/07 at 06:09 PM. [printer-friendly version]