In the context of an exhibition poster, the title “Travel.Agencies immediately suggests something larger than the place where one might go to book a flight. Walking up the steep steps to the Contemporary Image Collective (CIC) space, I was surprised to actually find photos of just that – workers, desks, swivel chairs and the blown up maps indicative of places for prospective travel.
Luckily, artist Maia Gusberti’s latest photography exhibit does not leave it at that. The work has a subtle depth that approaches the weightiness of the word agency , in the philosophical sense of the word.
Wikipedia refers to Human Agency as “the capacity for human beings to make choices and to impose those choices on the world . It goes on to say: “In this respect, agency is subtly distinct from the concept of free will, the philosophical doctrine that our choices are not the product of causal chains, but are significantly free or determined. With these thoughts in mind, I set out to view the large color photographs.
The dot in the title Travel.Agencies insinuates the internet practice of airplane ticket buying, and yet what the viewer is confronted with upon entry is its direct inverse: The antiquated offices of flesh and bones travel booking.
The understated photographs themselves are “antiqued in such a way that the colors, and in fact, the subjects, become muted and subdued.The many different inflated wall maps – characteristic of all photos – become the backdrop, the recognizable ambiance that has hit anyone who has visited a travel agency before: The feeling of waiting, the smell of dusty furniture, indifferent employees in front of old computers.
The works are all apparently designed on what one can only assume are agencies located in the Middle East, judging from the Arabic lettering on the walls. A problem with the exhibition is that there is no literature on either the work or the artist made available to the public, save a smattering of exhibition posters lining the hallways, equally bereft of information. There are also no titles near the pieces and I found a large framed work sitting on the floor – in a way that does not suggest a deliberate display choice.
Exhibition problems aside, the work leaves many possibilities open for the viewer. While the collection does not directly confront its possible layers, there are seemingly infinite metaphors found in such simple settings, like the implications of travel, traveling in the Middle East, access to travel. There is an invitation for entry both into the very tangible location of the businesses, with their marble countertops and old fashioned computer printouts, and the larger issues. Indeed, the simplicity of the former almost makes inevitable the question of a metaphor.
The photos themselves leave room for artistic development. Gusberti’s form suggests her position as a conceptual artist more than that of a seasoned or clever photographer. The images are a bit clumsy; eccentrically framed, in some cases slightly out of focus.
The highlights include a photo of two small, white leather chairs in front of a black and gold wall-length map of the world that is both awkwardly jovial and witty in its execution, with a man in the corner of the image sticking his small face out from what seems to be the bathroom.
In another, a computer printout spills over a desk, the frame stretching to encompass a map of the world with intentional tacks in Europe, Cairo and the eastern coast of the US (one deduces that this is the place where the airline flies to). Cheap white panels in the ceiling extend outward to the upper margins of the frame, and a gentle beauty and symmetry is achieved.
The gaps in more straightforward, one-dimensional images only serve to imbue the work with a certain charm and a feeling that the photographer was a bit quiet, naive and/or shy in the actual shooting.
All in all, the work is a quiet victory for Gusberti, which though lacking in fortitude of technical skill or aesthetic innovation, intelligently approaches a vast and interesting topic with grace, restraint and humility.
Catch the exhibition at the CIC, 20 Safeya Zaghloul Street, Downtown. Tel: 02 794 1686.
