Photographic Phrases: Abstraction in the work of Carl Berg

By Katherine Newbegin


All photography is abstraction in the sense that it can only capture the very skin of

the thing and not its essence.1 In his current body of work Carl Berg plays with the

concept of how to represent the aura of places and objects. Berg photographs and prints

his work digitally, however, at no point does he alter the images. As the artist states,

these photographs are all “actual camera captures not computer constructions.” This is a

critical distinction in considering the images, as it allows them to act as direct

representations of our physical reality. Berg is permitting the medium of photography to

act in its true nature. As a result, the context for Carl Berg’s work is tied deeply to the

history of photography and artists working in the realm of photographic abstraction.

Through his deliberate framing, study of texture in surfaces, and choice of subject

matter, Carl Berg evokes the abstract photography of Aaron Siskind. However, Berg’s

desire to elucidate the “elements of expression in objects not ordinarily seen as

communicative” is different than Siskind’s motivation. Siskind describes finding himself

as “involved in the relationships of these objects, so much so that these pictures turned

out to be deeply moving and personal experiences.”2 He is searching for an intense

emotional experience, whereas Berg desires to bring forward what is hidden or unnoticed.

The inner world of Berg has more to do with revealing the “depth and complexity” of

what is initially overlooked, of breaking the skin and going beneath it. Siskind, on the

other hand, seeks a connection with the outward world.

In 1944, Aaron Siskind created a series titled Gloucester Rocks, where he found

the objects to be very alive, so much so that he could “hardly bear to walk over the

rocks.”3 In the work by Carl Berg titled Sand, Montauk, a very flat, almost linear space is

described, similar to that of Siskind’s rocks. The form shifts upon each viewing. Just

like Siskind’s work, the scale is unclear and the diagonals and tonality of the image

sustain a mysterious feeling, almost as if it could be a mountainside. The diagonal

movement of the sand echoes the same gesture in another photograph titled Wall Shadow,

Laos. In this image, the diagonal shadow above the facet crosses rigidly, breaking the

image in two. These two images are side by side in the exhibition, resulting in a dance

that seems to occur as the diagonals move back and forth.

Whether the image is from Laos or Montauk, all of the photographs of Berg

maintain a very similar tonality and feeling, even the ones that are, in fact,

representational. The camera’s power is to focus the mind on a limited area. Berg’s

framing is a reminder of what he recognizes and points to as home when he is scouring

for images. The surface of the pictures has a clear consistency to them. When one travels,

the environment and the desire to go beneath the surface of a location becomes more

apparent, or perhaps Berg is recognizing something familiar and feeling the urgency to

describe that. Whatever the interior process of Berg may be the result is clearly drawn

from a desire to describe the texture of the thing.

A second image of Berg’s that reflects this experience of texture, tying it to

Siskind’s work as well, is called the Oaxaca Wall. The flesh color of the broken wall

emerges from deep underneath the old posters, glue has scarred the concrete. The picture

is laden with the history of this wall, and a collage is formed. In the right corner blue text

from a dance club poster appears, and paint peels against the outer edges of the frame.

An unfolding appears to take place here. Siskind describes one of his own wall

photographs from Mexico, “I place a configuration in the frame in a certain way which

makes it more delicate – gives it a swing here and a bloom there…”4 Berg’s image

unfurl before us and reveal something that can be easily missed. The wall holds a sense

of possibility, of a chance meeting, or a moment of passing strangers.

In the work titled Face, NYC, Berg again dislocates the viewer by using scale. It

almost looks as if it is a lake or a geographical feature. He pays true homage to painting

here. The tonal values, shifting forces, and gestures, lead one to identify a figural

allusion. The title also gives away Berg’s decided interpretation, he points us in the

direction of looking for a face, yet no face easily appears. We are confronted with

something hidden that needs time and space before it will reveal itself to us. Berg forces

the viewer to slow down in this moment and reflect inwardly. The lights and darks fade

in and out. The image seems to twist and break, and there is almost a subtle violence to it.

The artist’s choice to use what is practically a black and white palette, certainly points to

another era.

Carl Berg has manifested a body of work, which forces its audience to move

subtly through it. He begs the question of naming how much is missed in a given moment

as we rush through our days, through our lives. He professes a silent world, where if time

is truly given, then secrets are revealed and the images will unfold and blossom before us.

He studies the skin. He searches for traces. He roams scrutinizing the surface of his

world for that moment when the abyss willingly breaks open and swallows us whole, for

the moment when depth gushes forth before us.


1 Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida.

2 Chiarenza, Carl. Aaron Siskind: Pleasures and Terrors (New York: Little Brown and Company 1982), 65.

3 Chiarenza, Carl. Aaron Siskind: Pleasures and Terrors (New York: Little Brown and Company 1982), 57

4 Chiarenza, Carl. Aaron Siskind: Pleasures and Terrors. Pg 190