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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (May 18, 1983)
Art review /Glen McKerrihan Camera captures spirit of petroglyphs Linda Connar Photography at Oregon Gallery There remain persons in this world who fear the camera, who feel it has the power to capture their spirit, steal their soul. There is no doubt this no tion would be shared by those ancient tribal peoples responsible for the many petroglyphs found scattered throughout the world. It is this notion —fear of the camera and its power—that creates an ap parent contradiction when viewing Lin da Conner’s recent photographs of North American petroglyphs, which are on display through May at the Photography at Oregon Gallery on the main floor of the University Art Museum. Here is a modern woman, using this soul-stealing device to capture the spirit of drawings and symbols etched into stone by ancient tribes in North America. Conner explores a subject long the domain of anthropologists, and her ap proach is very much that of an an thropologist. By framing her subjects tightly, she isolates them for close in spection and appreciation. The majority of images in the exhibi tion, entitled “Recent Photographs of North American Petroglyphs,” were made in the Southwest. The largest portion of these come from the Canyon de Chelly (pronounced ‘de shay’) in northern Arizona, a high plateau area with many steep-walled canyons that have been home for Native Americans for centuries. The petroglyphs from the Canyon de Chelly range from small isolated sym bols to designs spanning entire cliff walls. One photograph shows a row of alternating light and dark human figures that appear larger than life. In another image, “Coyote and Bird,” the two animals have been carved into a huge cliff face, seemingly quite small and alone. Yet their life and spirit is ob vious in this primitive art form. Several images contain no petroglyphs, but instead are land scapes of the area where the ancient carvings were found. They are impor tant to give the viewer a sense of the vast and desolate land these nomadic tribes lived in. One of these, "Hogan, Canyon de Chelly,” depicts a shelter similar to those used centuries ago. In the background are more steep canyon walls, the same walls that served as shelter for ancient cliff-dwelling tribes. The most striking image, however, is “Spiral — Three Rivers, New Mexico,” showing a sweeping and barren desert floor leading to distant mountains. The sky is cloudless. The light is so harsh one can almost feel the heat radiating from the surface of the print. In the ex treme foreground is a small out cropping of rock. On the face of the uppermost stone a small spiral design was etched cen turies ago by a wandering tribesman, a sign post, which draws the eye to its very center. It is a symbol representing the creation, the life force, the Great Spirit. Conner has captured the essence of this spirit. In an otherwise still scene, the branches of a creosote bush in the foreground move, blurring the image. It is a sign of life, the Great Spirit acknowledging the photographer's presence. Here is a small design created by a person who no doubt would have feared the camera, the instrument with the reputation for stealing souls, cap turing spirits. This is exactly what Con ner has done, captured the spirit. These images, symbols of life, remind one that the spirit does not die. Linda Conner will deliver a public lecture on her work Friday at 7:30 p.m. in Room 107 Lawrence. She will also conduct a workshop on Saturday. Con tact the Art Museum for details. The museum is open Wednesday through Sunday, noon until 5 p.m. Book review/Ron Netherton-Johnson Poet ranges through nature’s beauty “Selected Poems” by Galway Kinnell Houghton Mitflin Galway Kinnell, whose "Selected Poems" is co winner of the American Book Award for poetry this year, has cut a distinct path in his work, and that path is through the woods. The path is perhaps clearer in the condensed form of the selections than a rambling search through the six books from which the poems are drawn, poems written from 1946 to the present. Ranging is a good word to describe his work, like the ranging of a bear. Oefensibly the most completely realized poem in the book is one called “The Bear." It’s an arch etypical poem of the hunt that reminds the reader of the alost lost connection between primitive man and nature. At the end the sustenance of poetry heals this split for modern man. While Kinnell’s connection to nature is strong in selec tions from books such as the pastoral “Flower Herding on Mount Monadnock,” there are moments of unease in paradise. Communing with nature one day, the poet sud denly sees a “Vapor Trail Reflected in the Frog Pond." Man is no longer quite so primitive or romantic. Suddenly, in fact, man himself is dangerous and threatening. Then images of destruction haunt and over power the poet's mind, leading to despair, a crisis of the spirit, and darkness of the world in “The Book of Nightmares," where man is seen as a trespasser on earth. Here is an apocalyptic vi sion of a dying world. In “Lastness” the bear, reappear ing, is aware of the presence of a “death-creature" at the fringe of the forest. Then the bear no longer exists, nature no longer exists, and in a transcending moment the bear himself becomes the death creature. Merging with and acknowledging his own darker side, he watches himself. It is doubtful Kinnell knew where his wanderings would take him. L>ut at the end of "Selected Poems,” and in the last book he has written, he finds resolution. “Mortal Acts, Mortal Words” is an affirma tion of human family life, in Record review / Dan McMillan U2 buzzes between great and bland War U2 Island Racords U2’s new album, "War,” is a a couple ot shades away from being a great rock'n’roll album. All of the elements are there * impassioned vocals, good guitar playing, a strong rhythm section, horns and keyboards used in just the right places. Yet still, there is something vital missing. Part of the problem with “War" is self inflicted. Five songs are so good—' "Sunday, Bloody Sunday," New Year’s Day,” “Red Light,” "Refugee,” and "Sur render” — that the rest of the album seems just average in comparison. That is not to diminish U2’s accomplish ment - - any band that can put five songs this good on an album is good. Now, what makes ' -!ese five songs so great is The Edge. That's right, The Edge, guitarist for U2. He looks like a cool Richard Gere, and he's as good as Eric Clapton. The Clapton comparison is apt, but don't expect flashy pyrotechnics. The Edge does not dominate songs; he blends with each song and gives it a unique at mosphere and flavor. Like his name, he gives each song its edge. His clear pick ing at the beginning of "New Years Day" gives the song Its hooky punch, but it is his middle solo that is truly spectacular. High clear notes fade into fat fuzzy chords, underscoring the song's dichotomy between freedom and oppression. I don’t want to imply that The Edge is the sole redeeming factor of U2. Bono, lead vocalist and main lyricist, may write inane lyrics, but it is nice to hear so meone sing with the passion of a young man with convictions. “Red Light," with its tricky vocal jumps, even shows that there is some technique behind the passion. Adam Clayton, bassist, and Larry Mullens, drummer, even have their mo ment In the spotlight, the funky beginning to “Refugee." Albums for the review were provided by Face the Music on 13th Avenue. the birth of a child, the act of making love. Finally, a gratefulness for life over powers the darkness, the pollution, the struggle to stay alive itself. Kinnell doesn’t fail to credit his mentors. His accounts of William Carlos Williams and Robert Frost reveal them as people with flaws and strengths. His poem, "For Robert Frost," begins, “Why do you talk so much, Robert Frost?” and Kinnell suggests several explanations. But when Frost is old, and he stands before a lectern unable to read his notes, and the TV directors are nervous, and so are the presidents who share the platform, flashing nervous smiles ‘‘For the harmless old guy,” Frost sets aside the onionskin and begins to lecite the poem by heart. Kinnell is like Frost in his at traction to nature, and in his knack for the effective ending. Some might accuse Kinnell of sentimentality toward nature. In one poem a boy wor ries about eating the Christmas bird. Yet this seems somehow appropriate to youthful questioning and idealizing the world. Finally, the reader accepts Kinnell. After making the trip from natural beauty to the nightmare 20th century, he reassures the reader. In “St. Francis and the Sow" he says “ . . . sometimes it is necessary to reteach a thing its loveliness.” Recreation Center LOST & FOUND SALE TOMORROW Thursday May 19 8:30 a.m. - 4:30 p.m. Room 110 EMU
