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