Born in Southampton, England in 1941, Reed moved to Canada as a young boy and settled in Calgary in 1973. His interest in black-and-white photography began shortly after this with a 35mm camera in hand. As his knowledge of the medium and desire to experiment increased, he tested other formats and now swaps between the 35mm, medium and larger cameras, depending on his desired outcome. Like so many travellers, Reed found photographic inspiration in France and began shooting there over a decade ago. Reed cites French photographers Eugène Atget (d. 1927) and Henri Cartier-Bresson (d. 2004) as influences on his own practice. Atget often focused his work on the architecture and the streets of Paris while Cartier-Bresson is remembered for his candid, photojournalistic style. Both of these concepts are incorporated in various ways in Reed’s exhibition, Reflections of France.
The space at the Alliance Française is currently exhibiting small-scale black-and-white prints from the artist’s travels that vary greatly in content and originality. Though the majority of the works are situated in Paris, a few feature other scenic destinations like Chartres, Versailles and Bayeux. Several of these Parisian images, though lovely in arrangement and lighting, are familiar even to those of us in the furthest reaches of Alberta — the gargoyles of Notre Dame and the windmills of Montmartre are standard fare for postcards and tourists’ snapshots.
Beyond these, however, there appear to be themes throughout the exhibition that may invite a closer look. Some of the works highlight what may be deemed as the unobserved. Charming corners or side--streets not only attest to the age of Paris but also to the fact that, within these old buildings, life has carried on successfully without the need for modern façades at every turn. Reed wisely presents areas that do not hide their blemishes — decay, stains or, in the case of Cat in the Courtyard, a little bit of graffiti, allow the viewer to remember that modern Paris has incorporated itself into the historical aura for which it is known. The two street images shot at night emphasize this particularly well. Initially, Rue Dalida and Rue Cortot seem to coincide with stereotypes of mysterious, romantic Paris — however, they do not reveal the sleek, glossy City of Lights given to us by Hollywood, and the wear and tear of many years of existence is apparent.
Following on these ideas is a group of photographs centred upon sculpture in famous cemeteries of Paris. Though these may seem like a predictable choice, as they are lovely and poignant figures, Reed approaches them with more than sentiment in mind. As with the street scenes, these monuments advertise their age and are damaged by the natural elements of decades passed. All of these figures communicate sorrow and hope simultaneously. Though they have been frozen in their respective positions and emotions for many years, they remain constant. Reed has made no effort to glamourize or touch-up these images and presents them as they are today — not neglected but weathered, worn and enduring.
In all of these works, if one looks closely enough, there are messages to be had and, perhaps, lessons to be learned. The old is juxtaposed with the new and, in spite of the occasional tattered corner, Reed demonstrates that France survives. The culture still exists, but so do modern people. Though people are not the direct subjects of his photographs, their unseen presence is not suggested in a critical way. Only one photograph out of the 28 on display engages with a more difficult notion: Empty Chairs. Though it may seem obvious, the empty deck chairs alongside the cowering classical statue draw out ideas of a more profound nature and Reed seems to have been in the right place at the right time. The almost comical image questions the public’s appreciation for culture and history. In France, the two seem to have co-existed for centuries — it is a place where historical tradition and modern society mutually depend on one another to survive. As a whole, this exhibition casually wonders if modernity will prevail. In time, will new, shiny and efficient triumph over tradition and antiquity? And if it does, what is the cost? All questions we, as a country and as a city, should be asking ourselves.
