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For over nine years, Ben Berke has been immersed in journalism in southeastern Massachusetts and elsewhere as a freelance reporter, as a staff writer for the Brockton Enterprise and as a metro reporter for The Public’s Radio, now called Ocean State Media. As many in the profession do, he often takes photographs to accompany his written work.
But sometimes the photographs that he takes serve no utilitarian function, either by considered choice, or by accident or by circumstance. And in that moment, the photojournalist slips into the realm of art.
Perhaps it goes without saying that photojournalism and art photography are not the same thing, but that doesn’t mean that the two don’t occasionally meet somewhere in the middle and find common ground. Consider Henri Cartier-Bresson, Dorothea Lange, Gordon Parks, Ansel Adams, James Van Der Zee, and Diane Arbus to name but a few. Are they documentarians or artists? Or something in between?
An aside: There is a similar conundrum in the field of art criticism. Is it journalism? Or is it an artform itself? I don’t have the answer.
Berke is presently showing a collection of 18 framed color photographs collectively referred to as “Dead Whale City / Photographs of New Bedford” in the Frederick Douglass Gallery, the street level exhibition space at Gallery X.
All of those photos were not serving journalism per se but perhaps were becoming something else, something that was not about reporting, something that was not about the business of facts but rather about entering into something philosophically sublime and contemplative. They became art because they had to. Much like the line attributed to Picasso, Cocteau, Camus and others, “art is a lie that makes us realize truth.”
Depending on how one defines a portrait, somewhere between six and eight of Berke’s photographs would qualify. “Grocer” features a worker with a shock of white hair in a variety store on Acushnet Avenue in the South End of the city. Taken during the pandemic era, he looks exhausted and he has but the merest suggestion of a smile. The familiar pale blue mask dangles from his ear. He wears a loud black and green leaf-patterned shirt that almost camouflages him in the tight space, surrounded by the plethora of products: tinned fish, toilet paper, olive oil, coffee creamer, potato chips and so much more. It is slightly discomforting, like a dream not quite remembered.
In “”Fish House Worker,” a young man with a wispy beard and wearing a blue rubber apron and protective gloves holds up a large lobster, its claws safely rubber banded. The look on his face is one of pure beatitude, as if he were, at that moment, communing with a higher power. Or offering up a crustacean sacrifice.
“May Day” features local curmudgeon, political cartoonist, and gay rights activist Joe Quigley at a political protest holding up a large “old-timey” poster (by artist Carl Simmons) warning the citizenry of New Bedford to “Keep a Sharp Look Out for KIDNAPPERS, and have TOP EYE open.”
Berke’s “Old Sailor’s Tattoo” is a close-up photo of a man’s left hand, palm side up. There is a faded scar on that palm that suggests that it was a particularly nasty gash when it happened. At a quick glance, it almost looks like the stigmata of Christ. But it is reduced to a crude joke, with a poorly drawn anatomical reference and wobbly text that reads “G” and the letters “S P O T” stacked one atop the other on each side of the old injury.
“Fishing Boat, City Pier” indulges Berke’s understandable love of texture brought about by the passage of time, decay, oxidation and the weariness of body and soul. Pure white clouds dapple a pale blue sky over a moored boat. The hull is scratched, dented and the rust is doing what rust always does. The boat is called simply “MY GIRL,” alluding to the long standing tradition of sailors and fishermen naming their craft after girlfriends, fiancées and wives. Of course, calling it “MY GIRL” saves one from the expense of painting a different name on the boat if a new relationship takes hold.
The vast majority of the photographs in “Dead Whale City” teeter on the brink between photojournalism and fine art. But two, in particular, take uncompromising deep dives into full-blown high art and they are the highlights of the exhibition. But if Berke experienced a diffident moment in his careful and considered trek into this new adventure, it was unwarranted.
His photo “Acushnet River” is unlike any other depiction of the waterway that I’ve ever seen. Seemingly hovering above the plantlife that takes up a full-third of the image and the murky shallow water, Berke has captured something magically cinematic. Barely breaking the surface of the water, there is a supermarket shopping cart. It appears to float like Elliott’s bicycle in the night sky, with E.T. comfortably ensconced in the basket. Phone home.
“Fishing Boat, Leonard’s Wharf” is a close-up of a seen-better-days fragment of rope coming out of the hawsehole on the hull of a cucumber green fishing boat. Within it are strands of even less useful rope and a torn fragment of a blue tarp, its grommet looking much like the eye of a fish. The surface of the hull is marred by dings, scratches, salt and rust. Knowingly or not, Berke just became an abstract-expressionist.
“Dead Whale City / Photographs of New Bedford” is on display in the Frederick Douglass Gallery at Gallery X, 169 William St., until April 18.
Terrific Millard-Mendez exhibit
I would be woefully remiss to not mention a terrific exhibition by sculptor and UMass Dartmouth instructor Rob Millard-Mendez that ended on March 21. I am certain that many who would have made the journey to “An Imperfect Circle” at the New Bedford Whaling National Historic Park’s visitor’s center were dissuaded by the historic blizzard, the ensuing parking bans, impassable sidewalks and the dangerously frigid conditions.
Millard-Mendez is a masterful artisan who is deeply influenced by ancient mythology, folklore and pop culture. All three realms have certain commonalities: pantheons, rituals, morality lessons and more. His intricate constructions, which include wearable masks, statuettes and unexpected juxtapositions, utilize humor to comment on and perhaps defuse difficult subject matter.
“Opioid Mask” is a three-dimensional cartoon constructed from carefully cut segments of prescription medicine bottles. The familiar translucent orange plastic has been formed into a round face and the bottle caps have become eyes. Several bottles have been utilized to make a Pinocchioesque nose. It is an unsubtle and sad acknowledgement of the dishonesty that the families and friends of addicts know only too well.
“Critical Mask,” with the rather clever wordplay referencing critical mass, is an anti-war piece, and it could not be more relevant. Made with segments of wooden yardsticks, it is reminiscent of Oz’s Tin Man, with a cannon-loaded turret replacing the iconic funnel on his head.
The gray “Empiricist Mask” includes six glass eyes, a series of noses stacked one over the other, elephantine ears, three mouths with long probing tongues, and two reaching arms worthy of Plastic Man, growing out of the top of the head like antlers on a buck. The title refers to the notion that knowledge is derived from experience and observation.
On that note, I intend to keep my eyes and ears open in anticipation of Millard-Mendez’s next regional exhibition and share the news.
Don Wilkinson has been writing art reviews, artist profiles and cultural commentary on the South Coast for over a decade. He has been published in local newspapers and regional art magazines. He is a graduate of the Swain School of Design and the CVPA at UMass Dartmouth. Email him at dwilkinson@newbedfordlight.org
Ben Berke’s photographs are mesmerizing. I want to examine each one more closely, seeing something different each time.
I have always admired his journalistic skills, and now I have another reason to be a fan.
Acushnet River shows dead quahogs, murky dismal “water” and abandoned trash…..it is DEAD WHALE CITY in a nutshell. Great metaphor.