OUT OF HIS SLEEVE

By MICHAEL PERKINS

THE TRUEST TEST OF ANY GREAT ART is endurance over time. We’re not talking the mere ability of the work to survive physically, through preservation or curation; just managing to not crumble into dust is not a major accomplishment. No, the real proof lies in the time-travel property of art’s intention or vision, the ease with which it leap-frogs eras to give new audiences a glimpse of what sparked its original creation. Things last because they continue to relate.

In my personal case, one of the joys of photography has been in trying to use my own limited powers of interpretation to view lasting works of art and try to see something fresh in even the most famous among them. One of my chief targets in this joyrney is the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, designs that continue to turn a fresh face to each succeeding generation and thus invite re-evaluation.

This is especially true of Wright’s lesser-known projects, some created in his ’90’s, when he told Mike Wallace that, however many more years he might live, he could just “keep shaking them out of my shirtsleeve.” Indeed, at his death in 1959, dozens of his designs remained unbuilt, such as this side court on a church whose blueprints were purchased from the Wright Foundation by a Phoenix congregation decades after his passing. Unlike his superstar signature pieces, this quiet structure has not been photographed to death, allowing both viewer and shooter a fairly blank slate on which to inscribe whatever impressions they choose.

Art bounds across time to delight us anew because we find our own age’s reasons for loving it. Photography is a vital tool in this quest to see established works from a new angle, in a new light, offering fresh messages.