As well as being credited as the inventor of photography, Daguerre is also known for perfecting the diorama. “The diorama – like most illusionism, and particularly like photography – is a demonstration of a technical power to transform the material of the world into representation” (Slater, 1995 p219). The diorama was a device that employed illusion to recreate the world and transport its audience or particpants through time or to another place. Slater identifies two senses of wonder invoked by the diorama: “wonder at the experience of being transported to a fully realised unreal world; and wonder at the (incomprehensible, hidden) technology which makes it all possible” (Slater, 1995, p219). While we may apply both these senses, in part, to the experience of looking at photographs we may also experience similar emotions toward man-altered, post-industrial landscapes. The social production of landscape especially that associated with industrial activity leave marks of history and traces memory in the form of ‘unintentional dioramas.’ As Edward Soja suggested in Postmetropolis developed countries have experienced a shift toward service-based and information economies resulting in a general decline in manufacturing industries. The change from industrial to post-industrial can be experienced in the legacy of the altered terrain. “Almost everyone is aware of at least the concept of post-industrial society . . . there has been a pronounced shift into service based economies, white-collar occupations, and information-generating technologies that are the vital cogs of what some allege is a new form of affluent capitalist society based primarily on consumption and consumerism rather than manufacturing industry. . . with its declining emphasis on workplace struggles, industrial unions and socialist politics [this shift] has provoked imaginative pronouncements of the ‘end of ideology,’ the ‘triumph of capitalism,’ and most recently ‘the end of history’” (Soja, 2001, p165). When considering the post-industrial landscape we might rephrase Slater, suggesting that a post-industrial sublime landscape is itself a representation of the history and social decline connected with it. It may be considered to embody the idea of an unintentional or post-modern diorama. Its construction is a clear demonstration of technical power and mastery over the landscape. The illusion is the social realities that are hidden behind the story of its construction. Perhaps sharing some of the concerns of ‘Earthworks’ or ‘Land Art’ the post-industrial landscape considered as diorama can be seen to be analogous to the human condition and material changes in society. Nevertheless, in photographing such a potent landscape, as Brecht would put it, there may be little or no attempt to understand the conditions that create it or as Liz Well’s states photographs only “indicate manifest changes, as well as continuities, but photography cannot account for social developments” (Wells, 2011, p130). When writing in 1979 in Photograph/Politics: One Allan Sekulla suggested; “a didactic and critical representation is a necessary but insufficient condition for the transformation of society. A larger, encompassing praxis is necessary,” though such an application is arguably largely still absent from the world of photographic representation. This paper will explore whether it is possible to form an understanding and possibly construct a methodology that facilitates a process of representation of landscape that can instigate social responses to environmental changes and invokes altered relationships to space and place. By considering a context of the post-industrial landscape, theories of representation outlined by Derrida and Foucault as well as ideas of the social production of space proposed by Lefebvre it may be possible to re-conceptualise the role of photographic practice within a digital paradigm.
This paper is also framed by early research in the area of representations of the post-industrial that has partly adapted a photo elicitation method to explore the act of representing the landscape through participatory, community based, photographic projects. When considering the work of photographer John Davies’ visual archive of post-industrial Britain, Liz Wells notes that, “political commentary is diluted rather than distilled, as the industrial becomes a strand within a new picturesque” (Wells, 2011, p171) and to date, qualitative analysis of the research has indicated that while there may be an abundance of approaches there are few different forms of representations. As Barthes wrote: “ . . . always new books, new programmes, new films, news items, but always the same meaning” (Barthes, 1990, p42)
In order to re-conceptualise the role of the photographic within new modes of representation and imaging we may begin with an outline of Derrida’s ‘logocentrism’. Derrida used the term to describe the way in which representations were understood by referring them to a single founding, presence. This presence is perceived to be ‘behind’ representations and contributes to the explanation of them. Derrida indicated that logocentrism was present throughout Western philosophy and was founded on granting authority to speech over writing. In The Absence of Presence Burgin explains, “When I speak I am aware of no real distinction between my thoughts and feelings and my words, and if the person to whom I am speaking doubts my meaning I can supply words of clarification. The words I speak seem transparently to reveal what is ‘on my mind’ or ‘in my heart’, but once committed to writing they are separated from me; they become subject to interpretation by the reader, and this to possible misinterpretation; moreover, the reader cannot be certain that they are indeed my words – separated from their origin, and thus form the guarantor of their meaning and authenticity” (Burgin, 1986, p33). The privileging of speech and the belief that meaning is present, as Burgin continues is “an illusion of language. In whatever form, meaning is only every produced with a complex play of differential relationships” (Burgin, 1986, p33). A re-conceptualised image in the context of the digital space will need to take into account the relationship between the spectator, virtual spaces and the images encountered within it. Questions of origin, authorship, authenticity and ownership cease to be as important as the relationship between the digital-image, the psychological processes which attempt to find meaning and a modified account of indexicality. Like the diorama, digital representations are a technology driven illusion, which exist in multiple spaces. “To have an interest in the relation between real exterior space and psychological space is quite simply to be interested in the image. The ‘image’ is neither a material entity nor simply an optical event, an imprint of light on the retina, it is also a complex psychological process. It is in this sense that the image is defined as essentially ‘virtual’ in the phenomenological perspective that Deleuze derives from Henri Bergson” (Burgin, 2012, p14). The relation between ‘real exterior’ and ‘psychological’ spaces is significant not only to those with an interest in the image but it is also a framework for considering communities and people whose lives are situated around post-industrial, dioramic landscapes. Through a process of creative engagement with representation, photography and the digital-image there is a renewed method for enabling investigations into social identity, land stewardship and ownership and the changing relationship between people and place. The costs associated with traditional film photography have significantly reduced and access to digital cameras is now ubiquitous therefore the conditions are appropriate to facilitate a significant participatory project which deals with a process of investigation and perception of the landscape.
While the digital epoch may encourage an argument that suggests that photography is now radically different from its analogue descendant this is to confuse the medium of photography with the basic conditions of ‘the photographic’. “Traditional photography begins with the chemistry of fixing an image, formed by a camera, in a light-sensitive substrate. These together yield a picture of the world beyond the aperture in the form of a positive or negative film. This in turn is used to produce an opaque print, or a transparency that may either be backlit or projected. Digital photography offers some technical substitutions . . . but without fundamentally altering the basic conditions” (Burgin, 2007, p366). Nevertheless, even though the conditions that enable photography have merely been modified the conditions of publishing and viewing have been radically enhanced and supplemented. Digital photography is fundamentally more accessible and the digital space is more egalitarian than the traditional process of publishing and more open and unrestricted than conventional conditions of pre-internet broadcasting. Via the web everyone is now a potential content creator and publisher. Within the digital space the number and type of encounters that we have with photography are increased and our response to photography has potentially undergone some modification but to reassert Burgin the fundamental conditions remain unchanged.
This pervasiveness of the digital suggest Artuad’s ‘Theatre of Cruelty where the “audience is in the centre” while the “show takes place around them. In such a show there is continual amplification; the sounds, noises and cries are first sought for their vibratory qualities secondly for what they represent” (Artaud, 1989, p62). In the context of the theater Artuad, is looking to affect rather than represent and invokes Sekulla’s comment that the condition of representation alone is perhaps insufficient for any transformation of society. This centrality of the audience is evident within digital culture with the emphasis on “User-Centred Design” within interface and online user experiences. In this field the user is placed at the heart of the interaction and it is around their motivations and impulses that online environments are constructed. In the digital world that Fred Ritchen describes in ‘After Photography’ that we “are also changed, turned into potential image . . .” (Ritchen, 2009, p21) so it appears that the distinctions between the subject and spectator are less clearly articulated within the context of the digital transmission than in the analogue world. With one both forming and informing the other. As stated above concerns of authorship and ownership are less important that the personal responses and relations to new methods of imaging. It is in ‘No More Masterpieces’ Artuad seeks an authenticity of expression in his anti-humanist position which states that: “One of the reasons for the stifling atmosphere we live in, without any possible escape or remedy, which is shared by even the most revolutionary among us – is our respect for what has been written, expressed or painted, for whatever has taken shape, as if all expression were not finally exhausted, has not arrived at that point where things must break up to begin again, to make a fresh start. . . We must finally do away with the idea of masterpieces reserved for a so-called elite but incomprehensible to the masses” (Artaud, 1989). Artaud’s ‘fresh start’ opens up the idea that a participatory, interconnected, digital form of expression is more appropriate and potentially more revolutionary than the ‘incomprehensible masterpieces of an elite.’
During the Renaissance period resemblance was the structuring principle of knowledge, “the reproduction of three-dimensional space (of optical depth) was involved in the valorization of painting” (Rancière, 2011 p16). In addition Levi-Strauss observed that: “painting was perhaps [not just] an instrument of knowledge but it was also an instrument of possession” (Levi-Strauss, 1969, p133). Even in the twenty first century the sense in which Levi-Strauss points to representation acting as an instrument of possession remains relevant. It is especially interesting in the context of surveillance, forensics and evidential based imaging where the possession of knowledge and power is closely linked to the visual material. These are types of imagery in themselves are not always enough and their messages require substantiating. Their functions are also significant contributors to our negotiations with the arguments connected to indexicality.
Following the Renaissance and during the Classical period, signs become pure representation, an arbitrary system in which meaning is articulated through differences and the taxonomy of classes. Classical poets “established a relationship of correspondence at a distance between speech and painting, between the sayable and the visible, which gave imitation its own specific space” (Rancière, 2011 p15). In Foucault’s account of the replacement of the ‘absent spectator’ proposed in “The Order of Things,” he describes the extent to which humanism is based on the absent presence where “man appears in his ambiguous position as an object of knowledge and as a subject that knows;” (Foucault, 1985). Foucault begins his work with a description of Las Meninas proposing that it is an example of Classical representation. In The Order of Things Foucault argues that ideology places content within the sphere of representations. Las Meninas describes the idea of a Classical representation that sits between representation within the periods of the Renaissance and Modernity. To adapt Foucault’s notion of man’s ambiguous position through a reading of Baudrillard’s ‘Simulations’ and of Rancière’s ‘The Future of the Image’ and others we might ask whether man is less occupying the position of an ‘object of knowledge’ and ‘subject that knows’ and is perhaps equally an ‘object of representation’ and a ‘subject of the signifier.’ An additional question for the research that frames the context of this paper is whether practice can enable our understanding of this adaption of Foucault and whether it is a valid proposition.
Modernity sets out language as the framework for meaning. Its discourse “presents the revolution of pictorial abstraction as painting’s discovery of its own proper ‘medium’: two-dimensional surface.” (Rancière, 2011 p15). Rancière continues, suggesting that Modernity was constructed to hide the “the transformations of art and its relationships with the other spheres of collective experience.” He describes two discourses of Modernity, one which constructs the autonomy of art (expressed by the capabilities of the medium) and a second discourse that associated art with acts specific to modernity, here Rancière cites Schiller’s notion of the aesthetic education of man as an example in which Schiller defines the “aesthetic as exactly the hinge or transitional stage between the brutally sensual and the sublimely rational” (Eagleton, 1990, p103). It is during Modernity that photography was invented and considered as a realist medium whose purpose was often directed toward documentation. The project of modernist photography is described by Steve Edwards as being “a dialectic of surface and representation, in which a complex fracturing broke with an art of resemblance in order to depict those experiences and contradictions which could not be pictured as homogenous surface” (Edwards, 2010, p188). If the capabilities of man to transform the landscape were demonstrated during the industrial period then by using a modernist interpretation we may view such acts as speaking within Rancière’s second discourse. A discourse that supported acts specific to modernity. But is there a point when the industrial landscape, with all its technical power to transform the material of the world, can be considered as a diorama? Andre Malraux’s “Museum Without Walls” attempted to homogenize style through the medium of photography, insisting that objects could only be placed in the museum if they could be photographed. In Malraux’s museum photography becomes the medium of organisation. “All of the works we call art, or at least all of them that can be submitted to the process of photographic reproduction, can take their place in the great super-oeuvre, Art as ontological essence, created not by men in their historical contingencies, but by Man in his very being . . . Malraux makes a fatal error near the end of his Museum: he admits within its pages the very thing that had constituted its homogeneity; that thing is, of course, photography. So long as photography was merely a vehicle by which art objects entered the imaginary museum, a certain coherence obtained . . . Even photography cannot hypostatize style from a photograph” (Crimp, 1983, p51). As with Malraux’s Museum, if through its representation the post-industrial landscape is understood as a heterogeneous space consisting of illusion, history, memory and other traces then it is a space, which is the embodiment of Foucault’s interplay of the absent presence. It is at once a presence that simultaneously indicates an absence of at the very least industry but almost certainly a deeper social absence and distant political presence. Therefore in proposing a method for a representation of the landscape, for living in and seeing the diorama we need to look not to documenting it but to accommodating thought and diversity about and around it.
Photography as a process may continue to be associated with the recording of “what is there,” and in a modernist sense it is largely considered to be a realist medium. But the photograph like the diorama may also be seen as the product of illusion. However, in an ocularcentric world and by virtue of its illusion, it contributes to “the reduction of the world to facts on the basis of the hypervaluation of vision” (Slater, 1995 p221). Slater describes the ‘trivial realism’ of the photograph as consisting of three components. Representational realism, this is the technical ability of the optics of the camera to produce a likeness of its subject that conforms to the ideas of realistic representation. Ontological or existential realism describes the relationship between the photograph and the thing that has been photographed. Unlike other forms of representation (paintings, words) photography requires a presence of the subject. Mechanical realism, Slater claims is photography bringing “modernity to a culminating point in that the means of representing the world, the means of knowing it and the means of producing or transforming it are brought together within a single, conceptually unified technology of vision” (Slater, 1996 p222). Slater suggests that a modernist vision of photography’s place is within a project of total disenchantment taking as it does the world as pure object he continues to argue that the visual spectacle can offer an opportunity for the facts of the world to become re-enchanted. He goes on to distinguish two projects; one of representation (trivial realism) and one of simulation.
Within the project of ‘trivial realism’ representations of the power to transform the landscape show the world to be essentially material based. It is through fragmented and direct encounters with representations of the landscape that we shape our understanding and formation of space and place. The social realities that are formed within the shadows of the post-industrial landscape are like the photograph itself a unique combination of science and art. Employing Henri Lefebvre’s schema of the social production of space we may be able to use representation in general and photography specifically to disentangle the epistemology of space. Lefebvre proposes three dialectically interconnected processes. These are “spatial practice,” “representations of space,’ and “spaces of representation.” Using these propositions to articulate our understanding of space it may be possible to articulate the all-encompassing praxis that Sekulla was proposing as a project for representation in 1979 and adapt this into our new method for representation of the landscape.
In order to construct a model for understanding and representing who we are and where we live we may need to turn to the geopolitical accounts of spatial forms and social relations and apply this schema to representations of the landscape. Although this is an exercise in its own right it may be useful to sketch out the ideas of Henri Lefebvre to indicate the scope of such a project. Lefebvre outlines three processes: ‘spatial practice,’ ‘representations of space’ and ‘representational spaces’ all of which interact to form a schema of space. It is possible to establish the trace of photography within each of these processes it therefore may form a viable structure around which an account of the representation of the landscape can be interpreted. Lefebvre describes spatial practice as a “close association with perceived space between daily reality (daily routine) and urban reality (the routes and networks which link up the places set aside for work, “private” life, and leisure)” (Lefebvre, 1995). Lefebvre suggests that the “spatial practice of a society secretes that society’s space; it propounds and presupposes it, in a dialectical interaction” (Lefebvre, 1995). His description refers to the extreme separation of things that are linked together; an association that he describes as paradoxical. These ideas of spatial practice within the context of representation can be aligned to the idea of a photographic vision, which is a precise, mechanical rendering of a subject. The close association or linkage between the photographic image and its subject may be described in terms of Lefebvre’s paradoxical relationship and the process of spatial practice or the “perceived” space. This is not to suggest an indexical relationship, merely an association that may be formed through various processes. “Representations of space” for Lefebvre are the dominant spaces in any society. These are the “natural” discourses that define the inhabited space. Lefebvre includes photography and representations such as maps and signs within his own definitions of the representations of space. Any photograph is itself subject to its own ideological pressures. So while the photograph contributes to an ideological construction of space for Lefebvre it is also a product of a representational ideology. While we may be reminded here again of Malraux’s “Museum Without Walls” it should still be possible to view the photograph as contributing to the ‘representation of space. “Representational spaces” is the third process and one that Lefebvre refers to as the “lived” space. It is the space of the symbolic or imagined, and could be taken from nature or from the buildings or both. It is mediated through images and symbols. Lefebvre attempts to draw a theory of space that encompasses the physical and the psychological and his model may outline an approach to photography and representations which, like space, can be seen as products of human practice.
When asked to ‘visually represent their environment’ participants in a research workshop produced a range of imagery and without exception their work indicated the same concerns, anxieties and issues. They also articulated these emotions in similar and predictable ways. A provisional question we may therefore ask is whether the subject of the post-industrial landscape, the factories, buildings and transformed land are not only indicators of the beginning of a discourse on technology and the knowledge economy but may also be considered part of an archive of the industrial past that has yielded to the digital camera and been photographed with an a priori knowledge and of ‘what it looks like to represent these things’. “For Foucault, the historian must excavate an archive to reveal not merely what is in it, but the very conditions that have made that archive possible . . . Foucault’s argument is based on the semiotic distinction between langue and parole in linguistics. The linguistic opposition langue and parole (grammar and speech) is used to demonstrate how any utterance is always a symptom of the system that allows it to exist. In this conception, any act of speech (parole) is a specific instance, an event, that gives evidence of the rules of grammar (langue), the abstract set of rules about language through which that event is allowed its form; a form, which of course, over time, can be reformed or changed. For Foucault then, any archive is an instance of parole, where one can de-construct the rules of the “language” (langue) that underpins it.” (Bate, 2007) If this linguistic argument is applied to images of the post-industrial then the images themselves are the speech (parole) and the grammar (langue) is the transformations that have brought about the transition from manufacturing and industrialised services to the provision of services. Ushering in the worlds of the ‘knowledge and digital economies’ participants sought a visual vocabulary that supported an underlying discourse of transformation but did not necessarily produce a diversity of representations rather they produced more of the ‘already seen before’ suggesting that perhaps these participants may have been behaving as subjects of the signifier, repeating and re-presenting images from their ideas of what their environment should have looked like. Employing either a form of detached and detailed observation or abstract surrealism the work produced was perhaps more like a tribute-act that sort only to repeat in the spirit of other work for example that of Moholy Nagy, Rodchenko or Bernd and Hilla Becher. To live and see within the diorama is to see and produce the same images; typologies of things found in a landscape that risk muting any responses to that environment. But the collective experience, the sharing and exchange of practice, the participatory experience brought about the most significant impacts that the development of this research project will explore in detail in the future.
At this point, without a new approach to image making we are consigned to redundantly illustrating and adding to the already seen and the data already stored. In his essay Making Strange: The Shattered Mirror Simon Watney discusses the landscape photographs taken by artist Paul Nash. Watney explores the choice of subject matter of photography in the twenties and thirties and uses the Russian Formalist critic Viktor Shklovsky’s term of ostranenie or ‘making strange’ to propose that photographers during this period used defamiliarisation as a technique to question the ‘socioeconomic contradictions,’ which were outside of traditional artistic subject matter. “The theory of defamiliarisation itself possessed a powerful ideology, a set of tacit assumptions about the relations between art and society. It implied above all that social contradictions could be made immediately and universally accessible to the eye, simply by means of visual surprise” (Watney, 1984, p174).
“Iterability is a structural characteristic of every mark” (Derrida, 1982, p324). In contrast to ostranenie or ‘making strange’ the legacy of the Becher’s work and the Düsseldorf School is one of systematic consistency and detached and detailed observations. “The ‘truthfulness’ – that is, the objectivity and the informational qualities – apparent in the Bechers’ documentary practice rests not only in the analogue character of its photographic technologies but also in their photographs’ natures as indexes their status as traced or caused by unique events in space, time, and consciousness . . . As indexes, the Bechers’ editioned prints accrue an aura, a sense of value that often grows stronger, particularly if the original architectural subject is destroyed. Indexicality conditions the viewer to anthropomorphise photographs: to attribute human qualities such as intentionality and uniqueness to them as we also do to painting and sculpture. And, as the historical time grows between the moment when the Bechers made their photographs and the moment when the contemporary viewer apprehends them, their indexical qualities seem undiminished. Indeed, the passage of time seems to produce an unexpected effect: the older the print, the stronger the indexical connection appears between the Bechers’ representation and the original object. A third aspect of the truthfulness of the Bechers’ photography lies in its rigorous archival method” (Biro, p354, 2012). Though Bernd and Hilla Becher’s Gasbehälter (Gas Tanks) is readily available to view via a web search in digital form and can be seen in various print reproductions the analogue artifact is always the source of the many copies that are available elsewhere. This suggests that there are two possible approaches to this work, the various forms in which the work can be encountered and the number of encounters that the work illustrates of the forms of its subject. On first viewing an exhibition of Bernd and Hilla Becher’s Gasbehälter (Gas Tanks) one may experience a moment of initial familiarity. The original work looks like the copies seen in books and on the screen. The images appear to have a direct connection to the subject that has been photographed even though the Gas Tanks may no longer exist – photography continues to suggest something that was there once before. The New Topographics are no longer new but as with all postponed meetings the outcome of the “face-to-image” has a different impact than any previous distant relationship mediated via books, scans, screen shots and associated fragments. Burgin, in his book the “The Remembered Film” suggests that the “totality of all the films I have seen derives from and contributes to the reservoir of ‘already read, already seen’ stereotypical stories that may spontaneously explain an image on a poster for a film I have not seen, or images of other kinds encountered by chance in the environment of the media” (Burgin, 2006, p17). The Gas Tanks as represented by the Becher’s are illustrated as typologies, objectively recorded and rendered as geometry and form. Their own description of their work was one of “Anonymous Sculptures” seeking to neutrally document and map objects. But through the presentation of the images, via the grid layout and the repeating camera/subject positioning the work is less document and more a display of shape and tone. As with Burgin’s “cinematic heterotopia” where “a ‘film’ may be encountered through posters ‘blurbs,’ and other advertisements such as trailers and television clips; it may be encountered through newspaper reviews, reference work synopses, and theoretical articles (with their film strip assemblages of still images); through production photographs, frame enlargements, memorabilia, and so on. Collecting such metonymic fragments in memory, we come to feel familiar with a film we have not actually seen” (Burgin, 1996, p23), the Becher’s work provides a multiplicity of similar views of similar scenes of familiar industrial spaces.
Through collective practice we can attempt to rethink our approaches to the image. This new approach, in the digital age, should reframe our discussion of the virtual, the physical and the psychological spaces and consider how their representation and construction is, not only a product of these relationships, but is also the basis for taking responsibility for the transformation of landscape. It may be that through community based image making we are able to see and recognize the diorama in the landscape, we may be able to reinterpret its illusion and investigate its existence by means of a collective experience of practice which is not simply to document and add to the already seen but is based on the act of photography, the performance of representation and the sharing of vision.
Artuad, A. The Theatre and its Double, London: John Calder Ltd, 1989.
Barthes, R. The Pleasure of the Text, Oxford: Blackwell, 1990.
Bate, D. ‘The Archaeology of Photography: Rereading Michel Foucault and the Archaeology of Knowledge’ in Afterimage 35 no3 N/D (2007)
Crimp, D. “On the Museum’s Ruins” in Foster, H. (Ed) Postmodern Culture, London: Pluto Press, 1983.
Derrida, J. “Signature Event Context” in Margins of Philosophy, trans Alan Bass, Chicago: Harvest Press, 1982.
Biro, M. “From Analogue to Digital Photography: Bernd and Hilla Becher and Andreas Gursky” in History of Photography Volume 36, Issue 3, (2012)
Burgin, V. “The Absence of Presence” in The End of Art Theory, London: Macmillan, 1986.
Burgin, V. “‘Medium’ and ‘Specificity’” in Elkins, J, (Ed) Photography Theory, Oxford: Routledge, 2007.
Burgin, V. “Limited Optimism” in Source Magazine, Issue 72, Autumn (2012).
Eagleton, T. The Ideology of the Aesthetic, Oxford: Blackwell, 1990.
Edwards, S. “Snapshooters of History: Passages on the Postmodern Argument” in Wells, L, (Ed) The Photography Reader, Oxford: Routledge, 2010.
Foucault, M. The Order of Things, London: Tavistock Publications, 1985.
Lefebvre,H. The Production of Space, trans D. Nicholson-Smith, Oxford: Blackwell, 1990.
Levi-Strauss, C. Conversations with Charles Charbonnier, London: Jonathan Cape, 1969.
Rancière, J. The Politics of Aesthetics, London: Continuum International, 2011.
Rancière, J. The Future of the Image, London: Verso, 2007.
Ritchen, F. After Photography, New York: Norton & Company Inc, 2009.
Slater, D. “Photography and Modern Vision” in Jenks, C, (Ed) Visual Culture, London: Routledge 1995.
Soja, E. Postmetropolis, Oxford: Blackwell, 2001.
Watney, S, “Making Strange: The Shattered Mirror” in Burgin, V, (Ed), Thinking Photography London: Macmillan, 1984.
Wells, L. Land Matters, London: I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd, 2011.