http://bookweb.cwis.uci.edu:8042/Wortz.html (Einblicke ins Internet, 10/1995)
Today it has become a truism to say that the medium of photography is light. But the skill required to capture that light in ways that celebrate its beauty and mystery has been mastered as fully by Ansel Adams as by almost any other twentieth-century photographer. And it seems highly appropriate that the name of the exhibition contains the words FIAT LUX: let there be light, the University's motto and ancient biblical reference which announced the coming of light into the world, and with it knowledge, the power of perception, and the hope for wisdom. These are certainly goals which should drive today's universities, as they are experiencing continuing budget inadequacies, and are consequently struggling to live up to the highest aspirations.
Through the publications and exhibition tour of Ansel Adams' documentation of the nine University of California campuses and its many research field stations we hope to understand more fully the enormous strength and depth of the University and to celebrate the genius of the artist. Adams' photographs also document the wilderness, whose existence today seems more and more threatened by pollution of various forms, from oil spills, the result of human error, to natural disasters such as earthquakes, droughts, and the pollution of the landscape by the use of toxic chemicals, land fills, and chlorofluorocarbons whose use is largely responsible for what we now understand to be the global warming effect. Surely Adams' images of virgin lands can help us today to understand the magnitude of the tasks before us in order to protect and preserve the natural wild and plant life forms.
Commissioned by then-President Clark Kerr in the 1960s, this collection of photographs of the UC campuses celebrates both our beginnings and our growth. And the photos bring with them many lessons for the present. Primary among Adams's oeuvre are his images of nature, many of which bear witness to the delicate balance of life forms that current world situations have wrought. Foremost among these are the acts of pollution committed by human beings, from the damage to the ozone layer and its consequent global warming effect, threatening to grow beyond control; the oil spills and pollution from the Exxon catastrophe in Alaska, to the pollution from the Baltic States which has made the water in Leningrad a serious health hazard.
As a case in point we may contemplate the beautiful fragment of Bristlecone Pine Wood at the White Mountain High Altitude Station. Here the stark light-dark-light contrasts reveal Adams at his best. While the sunset's light accentuates the shapes of the wood at its edges, so that it glows with luminescence, the darker tonalities remind us that this fragment is as much dead as it is alive, and thus reminds us of our own mortality.
For me this image also suggests that we pay greater attention to the cultivation and preservation of nature, its delicate balances, which, when neglected, lead to devastation, as is occurring in the rain forests of Brazil. Even in juxtaposition with death, however, this lovely Adams image speaks of the glory of life.
In a different mode, the image of an experimental pollination project at Davis captures the commitment to experimentation that is one of the primary purposes of the University, which promotes new knowledge through teaching and research. This image at first appears to be extraordinarily bizarre (which it is), its wrappings seeming to perform an exotic and stately dance among the springtime blossoms.
In the forests of Humboldt Redwoods State Park, Adams has captured the beauty of the precious redwoods with all the majesty we customarily associate with his photographs of nature. Again, I am tempted to associate this image metaphorically with the University, which must strive for strength as well as preservation. Once more, the light articulates the scene, which Adams dramatizes by playing off the massiveness of the trees in the foreground against the delicate traceries of light which permeate foreground, middle ground, and background. Although the darker forms in the foreground seem to dominate at first, it soon becomes apparent that their massive forms are literally enlightened by the light filtering through the woods and into dappled pools in the foreground.
I don't know of a more spectacular view than the one from the top of the Berkeley hills across the San Francisco Bay toward the city, and the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. The latter enjoys nearly heroic status today, as being the only bridge which remained intact during the October earthquake. The silent serenity of this photograph contrasts markedly with the devastation of recent events. As beautiful as this image is we also know that many areas of the greater area of the San Francisco Bay are polluted.
In a photograph taken from the Lick Observatory the scientific facility is not visible, but we still, with the knowledge of the vantage point from which it was taken, sense the precarious balances of nature and technology, which so universally threaten the existence of both, including threats to outer space, reminding us to heed the ever-increasing warnings of pollution. The misty delicacy which characterizes this photograph of rolling hills, outlined with light, and trees, which are threatened by drought, makes us wonder how long these species will remain.
On the other side of the ecological coin, Adams has left us a series of beautiful photographs of ocean and tide pools, views which proceed from the sky and the ocean's distant horizon in gentle waves and shallow tides in the foreground, where small birds dig for food in a shimmering rivulet. Here again Adams' skillful eye has immortalized this calm moment at the edge of the sea, as day imperceptibly descends into dusk.
In a second, spectacular ocean view, we witness the photographer's gradations of light and darkness through extremely subtle lights, sometimes dispersing in the clouds, sometimes hovering at the distant horizon, or glistening at the water's edge. The two tiny carriers of blackly silhouetted surf boards are extremely effective in establishing the scale of this scene at the edge of the sea.
Adams' imagery does not, however, consist exclusively of landscape, nor is it always inspirational. He can in fact, be humorous, as in a view of the early stages of the Santa Cruz campus. Here the photograph shows a pile of wooden planks which appear to have been thrown in disarray upon a barren piece of land. As we look further into the distance we notice a group of prefabricated structures arranged in a somewhat more orderly fashion, but their attempt at regularity is also humorous. Humorous for the time, perhaps, but an early hint of the ubiquitous developers yet to come throughout the state.
We are told that Adams encountered more difficulty in photographing the Irvine campus than with any others. This is not surprising, since there was virtually nothing to photograph in the early 1960s, except for several Pereira buildings, whose modular forms are typical of this architect. The contrasting patterns of light and shadow in his photographs of the campus find only one or two buildings to frame, which look quite small in contrast with the distant mountains and barren desert terrain. In fact, were it not for water supplies from Arizona and Northern California, our campus would still be a desert today. Perhaps the smallness of the campus at its inception, as documented in Adams' photographs, remind us not only of how far the University has come since its inception, but also of how far we still have to go.
Like Berkeley, UCLA's campus is stately and surrounded by foothills, Its Florentine buildings orient us to the past, which is appropriate, since the role of the University is to make sense of the conjunctions of present and past. Thanks to the generosity of Franklin Murphy, the UCLA campus is blessed with a magnificent sculpture garden, and Adams has documented the beautiful Henry Moore. As always, the photographer's use of light and dark results in dramatic contrasts between the powerful sculpture in the foreground and the empty spaces in the background.
Especially evocative is Adams' moon rising over the UCLA campus at night, which, of course, evokes his most famous image, Moonrise, Hernandez., New Mexico c. 1941 And his image of the Japanese Garden captures one of the least-known secrets of the UCLA campus.
Two photographs from research stations in Southern California show Adams in his traditional element. One dramatizes the incredible presence of the desert terrain against the smaller forms of students on a geology field trip. And a view of the palm groves near Palm Desert reveals a level horizon on the right half of the photograph and receding background on the left half where one would expect the line of the horizon to continue. Adams used a special lens to adjust the appearance of the palm grove to be upright, whereas in reality all of the palms are tilted from prevailing desert winds.
Whether young or old, located in a city, or in more remote environs, whether researching the fruits of the earth or the mysteries of outer space, these never-before-exhibited images provide a wealth of visual information about the varieties and richnesses of our statewide University system.
We hope that the information revealed through Adams' work will prove both educational and informative to its viewers by providing a sense of the past and the challenges for the future.
Melinda Wortz
