1964 · United States
The photographer Nina Mushinsky paints ensconced in her studio for days on end; by the time she goes outside with her camera her eyes are practically starved-out. She photographs whatever catches her hungry eyes, but what catches her hungry eyes are usually subjects that are endowed by nature or time with the worn patina of her household objects. While photography is known to fix a point in time, painting is expected to expand it and make the moment unfold forever. In her work, Mushinsky upends preconceptions. For her, time, besides being a factor and a dimension, is also the mandatory theme. It usually takes Mushinsky a year to finish a painting. It used to take two years. Before computer printing was invented, she kept painstakingly placing gray dot next to gray dot to cover her canvases, her hand being the paint-dispersing implement in what is essentially an anthropomorphized inkjet process. Since technology had caught up with her, Mushinsky’s painting technique turned painterly. There is nothing in her brushstroke that an “old master” would not recognize, and there is much that an “old master” approvingly would. On the other hand, while it may take Mushinsky a single click to capture an instant, every photograph that leaves her darkroom bears witness to the inescapable fact of universal decay. There is not much for a “classic” photographer to recognize, each picture being a snapshot of Dorian Gray.
- Galleries Representing this Artist