PLAY by Neal Oshima

When I was putting together my first exhibit, Rina, one of the owners of Lumiere, wanted me to meet one of the other owners. She told me to come by again next week to meet Neal Oshima. Inwardly, I braced myself.

Neal, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Miyagi - though, I'll never say that to his face - was one of those big name photographers. At least to me, then as a kid who had just put together a body of work for the first time. I knew of his technical expertise and commercial success, but what made him both impressive and intimidating was that he always transcended all that with personal work that expressed his clear vision and solid conviction. He was a master photographer and he was going to check me out.

I showed up the next week with some early prints, and waited for Neal to finish an earlier meeting. My hands felt clammy, and I wanted to drink the whole pitcher of water set before me and pee at the same. Finally Neal came around and... turned out to be great. He referred me to his printer and his framer, and was even there to help me out with mounting my work on the days before the exhibit. He came to my opening, and to the next one. All of that went along way to making me feel that my work was worthy. I met another photographer some time ago who liked shooting in mixed lighting too. He says Neal mentioned my work. The man remembers and I'll never forget.

Anyway, it brings me immense pleasure to tell everyone about Neal Oshima's long-awaited solo show at the Silverlens Gallery, entitled: PLAY.

THE PLAY THING
By Marian Pastor Roces

Neal Oshima figures the dynamics of play in his exhibition of photograms at Silverlens Gallery, April 15 - May 16, 2009. Play in this set of works is, however, an ironic topic, because the photogram process has a severe, straightforward, almost anti-play temper. Still, play “resides” in the photographer’s object, a range of toys and children’s playthings, from edible gummy bears and gummy worms to plastic modular building sets to mini guns. Play may also be located in visual double entendres emerging from the process itself. With the objects in actual contact with the surface of the paper—for this exhibition, arranged in very orderly, symmetrical grids—the toys are about as close to their images as physically possible. Simultaneously, these things are about as distant, visually, from toys as one might wish to imagine. The gummy worms, organized in overlaid x’s or curves, look as though a strange, translucent set of chromosomes. Or codes (which, in any case, comprise genetic material). Or a kind of unfamiliar writing. Serious stuff, which will remind semioticians, Buddhists, hackers and virus-makers, and, of course, game creators, that post-industrial humans think of the universe, their social relationships, and indeed their own bodies in terms of codes. But Oshima will not really humor these thoughtful viewers. His twist: these are, of course, only gummy worms and Lego bits. There is nothing more in the images that the direct imprint of these children’s playthings on exquisite paper the photographer himself chemically sensitized to light. A further twist: the images are not even mediated by light traveling any distance, nor computer manipulation.

The compositions perturb because they re-initiate adults into the nether dimensions of play. Weapons that maim and kill, creepy-crawlies that are a challenge to ingest, models of dangerous equipment, transgender role-play, and so forth, all exist within a liminal zone very close to the most transgressive human actions. The notion of “play” renders the dangerous, safe; the unknown, familiar; the evil, domesticated. Play also wraps the imagination around the menacing and the uncanny, the outcome of which, for the child at play, is by no means exclusively beneficial. Barbie, the extreme example, is not only an image of the disciplinary impositions of a horrific sexual social order; the quasi-doll is perhaps more importantly, a signal towards actual illnesses (anorexia being the mildest). It is in this light—light, so to speak, in Oshima’s deadpan photography—that there is delight in this exhibition. Oshima brings up the complexity of play in an apocalyptic world, but does not play up to the romance of apocalyptic visions. A peerless technical virtuoso, he plays with a lightness of touch, and a calm intelligence.

Play by Neal Oshima opens at 6pm on April 15, Wednesday and runs until May 16, 2009.

Silverlens Gallery is at 2/F YMC Bldg. II, 2320 Pasong Tamo Ext., Makati, 816-0044, 0905-2650873, manage@silverlensphoto.com. Gallery hours are Monday to Friday 10am–7pm and Saturdays 1–6pm. www.silverlensphoto.com.