The twenty-five large-format photographs that make up Katy Grannan’s exhibition Boulevard, currently on view at the Fraenkel Gallery, are crisply detailed, color saturated, and immaculately composed. Technically, the series demonstrates Grannan’s complete mastery of the medium, while the treatment of the subject matter is much more ambiguous. The artist selected socially marginalized people from the streets of San Francisco and Los Angeles and photographed them outdoors against generic white stucco backgrounds under the harsh midday California sun.
The surface complexity of each portrait is visually arresting, engaging the viewer immediately on a visceral level. Her 4×5 view camera accentuates vivid details, such as the turquoise rings on an elderly man’s right hand or the puckered wrinkles in a dour woman’s chin. Subtle motifs of disarray repeat themselves through the series: the bright gaudy lipstick of elderly women is poorly applied, permanent stains mar worn clothing, mysterious scabs mark sallow cheeks, and filthy fingernails suggest a rough life. However, while the physical components of each individual are in plain view, the stories of the subjects are obscured.
Grannan is part of a group of female photographers who attended Yale University’s MFA program in the late 1990s. She is notably influenced by two of her graduate school mentors, Philip-Lorca diCorcia and Gregory Crewdson. DiCorcia’s photographs of anonymous subjects in urban settings feature cinematic lighting, which lends significance to ordinary people. Crewdson’s photographs are elaborately staged tableaus, banal scenes imbued with anxiety. Grannan is clearly indebted to her two professors: her photographs combine mundane reality with calculated theater. While diCorcia and Crewdson use artificial light, however, Grannan is able to achieve a similar effect with the intense midday California sun. In Boulevard, the posed photographs accentuated by the strong light convey a sense of high drama implicit in the everyday.
Anonymous, Los Angeles, 2008; Courtesy of the Artist and Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco.
In Anonymous, San Francisco (2009), a person who identifies as a woman glares intently at a spot to the photographer’s right. Her brow is furrowed in consternation, her cheeks are sunken, and her straight straw-colored hair is tied tightly up in a high ponytail. Layers of caked foundation cannot mask her chin stubble, and her icy blue eyes penetrate an unknown target. The portrait conveys a sense of gravity, but remains outside the viewer’s sphere of understanding.