WHERE
AND WHAT IS AMIRA? The photo-imagescape by Karl Grimes is a representation
of its eco-media. In its entirety, it becomes a visual commentary about
our deepest sources for any impression of place, mysterious integrations
of evocative popular icons and prismatic individual references. Amira's
entrance arch, shadowed by palm fronds, invites travellers to explore
origins of interpretation, of what seems familiar or unfamiliar. Inside
Amira's walls, a pseudo-paradise awaits, a vibrant display of tensions
created by cross-cultural fusion. However, those who enter Amira would
not be burdened by ominous warnings of abandoning hope; Amira's creative
connections, however transitory or partial, revive us, speaking to our
capacities for resilience and adventure.
What sort of beauty spot is Amira? Is it a construction reminiscent of
outrageous promises such as those found in a seedy travel brochure? Perhaps
so. We certainly are transported into a world of ambiguous meanings, jubilant
colours, and uneasy marvels. Amira vibrates with the stuff of which startling
daydreams are made.
Sooner or later, we catch ourselves wondering: Is anything in Amira real?
Curious about this place, we search for evidence of its everyday society;
ironically, we must rely on our guide's notoriously deceptive medium;
the camera. Grimes' photographs of pictures that hang on unspecified Amirian
walls are evidence of its unique reality, a trail of obscure and fantastic
horizons. Nonetheless, our world resembles Amira. We find that Elvis rules
there too, sharing power with an aloof silver-gloved starlet. Her gaze,
slightly eluding ours, is sheltered by gossamer blue palm fronds. Time
and status isolate her from our taboos.
Even
as we acknowledge aristocracy in Amira, we wonder about its ordinary people.
Only one photograph reveals a body, and it is impossible to know whether
he is one of us or one of them: a hotel guest or a casual citizen. Further
on, we remain mystified by local store displays of bottled liquids, indecipherably
labeled in Arabic script. Later, we pass an ebony horse's head and intricate
tapestries, displayed beside faux-modish western jackets on offer for
us. Perhaps our question really must be: Who do Amirans think we are?
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Madam
Piver in the Cafe of the Fondouk, Cibachrome Print Triptych, 70 x 152 cm. 1993. Edition of 1. Morris Collection
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Karl
Grimes has created, through his suggestive juxtapositions of images, a
City called Amira, a locale that invokes a liberated postmodern muse of
pilgrimages, a witty visionary who readily admits our intuitions and responses
are suspect, arrived at through elusive imaginings, arbitrary meetings,
and strange conjunctions. Although Amira provides us with a kind of common
ground, we travel through it hesitantly, making our own associations.
Amira seems to embrace all cultural contradictions, while we seek some
certainty or clarity, however transient. We are being asked to re-invent
from Amiran clues who we are, where we come from, and where we find ourselves.
The
work is not presented as separate photographs. alligned one-by-one for
singular contemplation. Instead, we are met by imposing, fragmented imagery:
vivid triptychs. As eager tourists, recapturing a giddy desire to escape,
we can succumb to every detail, every play of reflection and light, wandering
beside Grimes into odd corners and hallways of Amira, where we are reminded
of how we thought we knew other places.
In
the end, Amira is not confined by territorial boundaries. Its images extend
our awareness of shared memories. A line of trees disappears into an unmarked
horizon. The Empire State Building somehow can be secure against a geometrically
constructed background, still surpassing all pyramids of skylights nearby.
A painted door, mirrored in sky-blue steps, waits to be opened. Is Amira
more or less than we hoped? Would another excursion there confirm or call
into question our momentary intuitions about its meaning?
Doubtless,
wherever we journey, burdened with cameras and cases, we venture out,
making incredible guesses about what seems artificial or authentic or
baffling. In this exhibition of brilliantly oblique photographs, Grimes
reminds us that our uncertainty is a gift. It has power to reawaken that
fragile beginning of sensitivity called curiosity. Indeed, by the end
of these disconcerting and intriguing travels, our impressions and interpretations,
whether of Amira or of ourselves, remain fleeting approximations, resonating
with possibilities.
Dr Barbra S. Morris. University of Michigan.
Reproduced
from Travels in Amira', exhibition catalogue. 1993.
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