LIZ CHILSEN
One pair of photographs in particular succinctly presents the differences between the schools. Both photographs show a hallway and lockers. In the Marathon photograph, we see a long tiled hallway lined with gray metal lockers; at the end of this hallway another tiled wall is punctuated by a porcelain drinking fountain. Light pours in from an unseen window or entry on the right and glances off numerous reflective surfaces. There’s so much brightness in this hallway, you’re tempted to shield your eyes to see the image better. In this photograph Chilsen demonstrates a fine ability to control active, intense light–a light that reveals the nuances of gleaming surfaces, but also conveys a disturbing sterility. It’s hard to believe this pristine space has ever been occupied by teenagers.
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The emphasis on peeling paint and graffiti in the photographs of Schurz eventually dulls their impact. But then, perhaps that’s the point–our experience begins to parallel that of the students and teachers who use the building. And some of the pairings, though pertinent, make rather obvious points: a photograph of a teacher’s desk that bears signs in three languages exhorting students not to write on desks is juxtaposed with a close-up shot of a desk top covered with graffiti.
