Art Monthly

Holography has an uncanny knack of polarising opinion. For 'the general public' it is something to be amazed at, entertained by, pointed and prodded at with the stifled gasps of the true twentieth-century illusion. In the area of creative arts, however, it is a different story. Apparently intelligent and informed people sensitive to the creative process are happy to dismiss it as nothing more than a technical trick.

A few years ago a central London art college rejected the idea of a lecture on holography and its creative potential, on the grounds that it would be a distraction for the students. A Midlands Fine Art department felt that their students should not be exposed to the subject because they did not have the facilities with which to make holograms. They had previously offered lectures on land art only visible by orbiting satellites.

Creative holography is in a rut prompted by a popular perception of its abilities. The most identifiable reason for its entrenchment has been the very phenomenon which has made it such a curiosity: the ability to record three dimensional images on a flat surface. Vast exhibitions of holography have appeared in major cities and attracted record crowds, wanting to see for themselves the magic created by the controlled destructive power of the laser. In an intelligently written (and positive) article on the creative aspects of holography, which appeared this year in the New Scientist, Chris Titterington, from the V & A, described these exhibitions as 'Great Medicine Shows'. An unnervingly precise definition. You 'roll' up, pay your money and are dutifully amazed. The Victorians would have loved it. We, apparently, still do.

These large shows, and their attendant crowds, have shaped the public view of holography and its capabilities. Early exhibitions, such as those at the Royal Academy, London (1977, 1978), began the polarisation by stimulating public imagination while at the same time prompting critical despondency. They had been produced by scientists and researchers and were impressive examples of a technical process. The potential was there but appeared not to have been exploited. A year later the Royal Academy mounted a second exhibition of holography. This time it attracted commercial sponsorship, was bigger and better. Crowds thronged. The potential still appeared not to have been exploited. For many who visited these shows, or absorbed the publicity, the process of holography was fixed in their minds: it could be used in advertising and promotions; it was overtly clever and attractive.
Eleven years later the technology and aesthetics of holography have developed. Where, then, are the artists using the process as an expressive medium rather than a technical research tool? The fact is that they have been there all along. They were exploring the process well before these first Academy shows, but since high profile holography touched the public imagination, artists have been buried by the realities of commercial interest, promotional hype, prevailing visual art prejudices and public expectation.

The giant holography exhibitions have reflected some of the changes in recent years. During 1984 a vast exhibition at the Royal Photographic Society in Bath, which later transferred to the London Science Museum, beat the dram for holography and this time, rather than being just a show of technical effects (although that was there too), brought together a diversity of work from artists around the world. The organisers made an effort to promote the artists and their work, which was separated from the scientific examples, but by now there was a public credibility gap. Visitors expected to be amazed, once again, by the visual fidelity of three-dimensional images 'floating' in space. Not all of the participating artists obliged. Some were 'painting' in three-dimensional space, with pure light. Others were distorting time, cutting up space, addressing conceptual incongruities, highlighting sexual stereotypes, exploring sculptural space with holograms and holographic space with sculpture. Some holograms were shallow, others were dim. On the whole they were not the large, clear, solid looking tea cups and telephones people had grown to love and expect.

In the visual arts there appears to be a general feeling that holography is a commercial gimmick and many artists using it have jumped onto a technology bandwagon, either to attract attention, earn large amounts of money in a commercial market or replace the content of their work with an optical effect which is intriguing. To a degree this is true, but it only appears unsavoury because of the unfamiliarity of holography compared to more traditional media.

There are many holography galleries now established around the world and most have their 'holoshops' stocked with low price mass produced holograms and trinkets. The proximity of these to the featured exhibition often makes it difficult to decide where the shop finishes and the exhibition begins. Granted few of the galleries have the knowledge, vision, finance, altruism or desire to search out truly creative work. They have commercial restrictions which determine their existence. Granted most commercial holography is designed to sell in quantity and is therefore like any other business, but holography is not isolated in this respect.

It is a fact that there are more generally accepted 'good' works in other media, which have a pedigree of historical development on which to stand. With holography a cursory glance seems to indicate that the commercial side has developed before the artistic side. They are in fact developing together but when millions of holograms are distributed in books, on magazines and credit cards, the impression they make swamps the creative work by artists. Critics of holography will point out that if the creative work had any inherent quality, the commercial side would not be a distraction, but novelty is a powerful factor.

The impression that there is little or no pioneering creative work by artists is not a surprising one. Where, after all, do you go to see it if it exists? Traditional galleries and other visual art venues are reluctant to show holography for several reasons. Their curators have a fixed idea about holography (clever gimmick) which can be hopelessly misinformed. It is thought that installation is difficult, expensive and possibly dangerous. And the market is extremely limited.

Some gallery directors have attempted to overcome the prevailing prejudice and show small collections of work without the 'medicine show' mentality. Work by an international selection of independent artists was included in the 'Craft of Art' at the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (1979) and the Photographers Gallery, London, provided a chance to see a selection of international work in 'Light Years Ahead' (1980). Since then touring exhibitions of holograms produced in Britain (Goldsmith's College) have found audiences at places like the Orchard Gallery, Derry and the Glynn Vivian Gallery, Swansea, while the Canadian Cultural Centre, London, put together an exhibition of work by Canadian artists which toured Britain.

The Canadian show threw up an unexpected and encouraging event. There was heated discussion, when the show started to tour, about one of the holograms in terms of what it stood for, rather than its dimensional impact. The piece by Michael Sowdon entitled Eat the Rich showed those words luminous inside the holographic plate with a swastika and commonly used expletive painted graffiti-like onto the surface. When the show reached Darlington there was concern by the gallery directors and the local council about whether the piece should remain in the show. After much discussion it did, but with the ' . . . some works in this exhibition may offend. . .'type of statement at the entrance. In Wolverhampton some members of the public complained and in Nottingham the gallery simply removed the piece after the opening. Other pieces in the exhibition were perhaps more offensive to a greater number of people had they looked closely enough. La Nuit des Morts vivants, also by Sowdon, consisted of an installation with nine holograms and fifteen acrylic paintings. The holograms showed stylised 'Zombies' and the paintings depicted images from old horror films and a board game called 'Dawn of the Dead'. Some were violent images: people stabbed with trowels; women about to be mutilated. In the context of the work this was justified, commenting as it did on the onslaught of random meaningless violence which we see reported every day. No one complained because it is unlikely that anyone really looked at the paintings, they were engrossed with the holograms. The visual impact of holograms must not be underestimated.

Holograms by artists are beginning to appear alongside other contemporary works without hype and thus are easier to assess in terms of their effectiveness as vehicles for expression. They have appeared in the annual New Contemporaries student show and there was one in 'Works for Shelves' at Kettle's Yard last year, when they were also included in a survey show of British photography at the V & A.

Modern holography is a mere 24 years old and there are artists who have a body of work spanning almost 20 of those years. The British artist Margaret Benyon began experimenting with the process on an arts fellowship in 1968, when it was neither useful nor easy to be associated with. Over the years her work has developed, as have her aesthetics. She has, like many others working in the field, been able to address concerns beyond the technology, with a body of political and social statements which cannot be glibly dismissed as a clever gimmick. Her first solo shows, including holograms, took place between 1969 and 1971 at Nottingham University Art Gallery. She showed at the Lisson Gallery in London during 1970 and at the Richard Demarco Gallery, Edinburgh, in 1972 but since then has not had a solo show in Britain, even though she has been working with the medium consistently since the late 1960s. It appears that the swing towards traditionalism has not only affected the traditional media in Britain. All of Benyon's solo shows during the last 10 years have been mounted outside the UK: Sydney, Melbourne, New York, Paris and Toronto.

Like many working in the medium, her pieces can be visually complex, with implications much more extensive than the popular holographic novelties. Tiresius, now in the V & A collection, shows the dimensional head and upper chest of a man and woman occupying each other's space. Each figure is contoured with lines, a product of movement when the holograms were made, which produces a graphic and direct link between motion and emotion. The more tense or active the person the more their heart pumps, resulting in greater movement of the body. Neither male nor female is dominant, they are part of each other (dimensionally) and combine to produce an initially confusing luminous figure. Moving around in front of the piece, viewing it from different angles, helps to sift out the individuals held in the holographic space and so produce something which oscillates from female to male with a linking androgynous stage.

In her more recent Cosmetic Series, which currently contains seven pieces and continues to develop, she has combined a personal statement about ageing and her position in society as a female artist, with broader aspects of packaging and the modern urban industrial society. The pieces consist of holographic portraits of young women, their faces 'painted' with cosmetics to make themselves beautiful. Several of the holograms are displayed with paintings behind them showing some aspect of the cosmetic markings emphasised by brush strokes and the quality of paint on a flat surface. It is possible to look through the transparent three-dimensional portrait to the painting behind. The harshness of the hologram becomes softened by the familiarity of the painted image, each combining to make something which is neither painting or hologram. She admits that some of the pieces are on the edge of kitsch, but that may be just the element which will help attract the attention of an audience surrounded by commercial holographic kitsch. She points to people like Mary Kelly whose treatment of the female preoccupation with ageing in pieces like Interim, and her use of humour help make the work enjoyable to a wide audience.

When the Cosmetic Series was exhibited it became apparent to Benyon that the male counterparts were required, and these are currently being planned to continue the theme. It is unfortunate that once completed, the series, which is more concerned with human values than holography, will probably still be interpreted by the majority as a clever technical demonstration.

There has always been a reluctance in the UK to accept creative works which are obviously technical, because they are difficult to deal with. There seems to be an in-built dislike for anything with a plug on it. Take for example Bill Culbert's exhibition at the ICA last year. His sculptures using found objects and light bulbs prompted an interesting reaction which was neither overtly dismissive nor encouraging. The work was on a dangerous knife edge, which all work of quality and integrity should attempt. Some of the pieces had pushed the concepts to the limits and explored new ground with great sophistication. There was little general criticism of the work in case it was pioneering genius, neither was it over applauded in case it wasn't. Work with light, or obviously technical processes, appears to be relegated, seen as a temporary phase of expression rather than a body of work which can challenge and question like other media or styles of expression. The Tate Gallery closed its kinetics gallery almost five years ago and has no plans to reinstate it.

Holography suffers not only from traditional prejudices and its association with the advanced technology of optical imaging, but a common view of what it should be. Not all holography is framed and hung on a wall. Not all is three-dimensional and none of it can project a walking, talking, full colour image into the centre of the room. Artists around the world have produced abstract works, built large colour environments and designed huge conceptual/environmental pieces which begin to highlight, break down, distort and reassess accepted visual values. One piece, by the American artist Rick Silberman, is an installation the size of the USA. He positioned a number of holographic plates at locations throughout the States. When illuminated by sunlight, each plate produced a line which in theory, extended to infinity The holographic lines were designed to coincide at a point high above America producing a massive conceptual structure space.

Holograms are no longer respected icons from the laboratory, but have been placed in the real world where they have been violated in an attempt to explore their function and how it might be used. There is a competitive international body of artists working with, and developing holography. Some have their own studios, others collaborate with industry or commerce for access to the medium. An awareness of its creative potential becoming public, albeit slowly. It is even being considered in art colleges.

The Royal College of Art has already invested substantial amounts of money an resources to build an holography facility. Within the degree show this summer some truly creative holograms were on show The work ranged from self-conscious seriousness, through abstract colour pieces to intelligent and succinct visual statement One of the students received a 10,000., award to set up his own business. Several of the degree show pieces reached a different audience in an exhibition at London's Diorama in October. Meanwhile Liverpool Polytechnic has had an holography facility in its sculpture department for several years. It is modest compared to that of the RCA but has been able too demonstrate that vast resources and financing are not a prerequisite for holography facilities.

The fact that the V & A has begun to collect holography produced by artists suggests the emergence of serious interest in an archival environment. In the United States there has been a Museum of Holography collecting creative work since 1977. They have as an archive some of the most significant developmental pieces in display holography since its invention. The public and private collections of holography cannot bestow credibility on the medium, but through purchases they provide the artists with finance to continue while their exhibitions allow viewers to form opinions based on pieces which might not be commercial enough to appear in other profit-lead galleries and shops. In any creative medium financial support is important in allowing recipients to pursue new work or simply survive. Last year the American Shearwater Foundation handed out huge financial awards to six artists working with holography ($10,000 each) in recognition of their pioneering contribution to its creative development. There is an underlying hope that such recognition will help establish a quality of work to which others might aspire. The artists came from America, Holland, Venezuela, and Britain (Margaret Benyon). With such financial commitment and six further awards made this year, to artists in Japan, America and West Germany, they appear to be taking the medium very seriously. Over the past few years institutions and groups have provided artist-in-residence placements to help the development of work and ideas, and even the Arts Council of Great Britain offered holography bursaries in 1982.

Holography will always have to compete for critical attention with well established media. The number of people using it intelligently, compared to workers in other media, is minute, but there is a growing awareness and sensitivity for their work. It offers the ability to record and manipulate space in its own terms. That is a phenomenon by which many people are threatened. Holography is young enough not to have many rules associated with it. The unfortunate thing is that by the time it becomes more acceptable as a creative medium, it will be cluttered and obstructed by its own vocabulary and subsequent rules. The first artists to commit themselves to holography may well have had to struggle and be constantly ignored, but they have had the unique opportunity to explore a medium before the barriers of acceptability and complacency become fixed.

Published in Art Monthly Magazine,
December/January 1988/89, No 122, pp 9-13.
Reproduced with permission.





				Holography, Visual Medium or Cheap Trick?
			Holography has an uncanny knack of polarising opinion. For 'the general public' it is something to be amazed at, entertained by, pointed and prodded at with the stifled gasps of the true twentieth-century illusion. In the area of creative arts, however, it is a different story. Apparently intelligent and informed people sensitive to the creative process are happy to dismiss it as nothing more than a technical trick. A few years ago a central London art college rejected the idea of a lecture on holography and its creative potential, on the grounds that it would be a distraction for the students. A Midlands Fine Art department felt that their students should not be exposed to the subject because they did not have the facilities with which to make holograms. They had previously offered lectures on land art only visible by orbiting satellites. Creative holography is in a rut prompted by a popular perception of its abilities. The most identifiable reason for its entrenchment has been the very phenomenon which has made it such a curiosity: the ability to record three dimensional images on a flat surface. Vast exhibitions of holography have appeared in major cities and attracted record crowds, wanting to see for themselves the magic created by the controlled destructive power of the laser. In an intelligently written (and positive) article on the creative aspects of holography, which appeared this year in the New Scientist, Chris Titterington, from the V & A, described these exhibitions as 'Great Medicine Shows'. An unnervingly precise definition. You 'roll' up, pay your money and are dutifully amazed. The Victorians would have loved it. We, apparently, still do. These large shows, and their attendant crowds, have shaped the public view of holography and its capabilities. Early exhibitions, such as those at the Royal Academy, London (1977, 1978), began the polarisation by stimulating public imagination while at the same time prompting critical despondency. They had been produced by scientists and researchers and were impressive examples of a technical process. The potential was there but appeared not to have been exploited. A year later the Royal Academy mounted a second exhibition of holography. This time it attracted commercial sponsorship, was bigger and better. Crowds thronged. The potential still appeared not to have been exploited. For many who visited these shows, or absorbed the publicity, the process of holography was fixed in their minds: it could be used in advertising and promotions; it was overtly clever and attractive. Eleven years later the technology and aesthetics of holography have developed. Where, then, are the artists using the process as an expressive medium rather than a technical research tool? The fact is that they have been there all along. They were exploring the process well before these first Academy shows, but since high profile holography touched the public imagination, artists have been buried by the realities of commercial interest, promotional hype, prevailing visual art prejudices and public expectation. The giant holography exhibitions have reflected some of the changes in recent years. During 1984 a vast exhibition at the Royal Photographic Society in Bath, which later transferred to the London Science Museum, beat the dram for holography and this time, rather than being just a show of technical effects (although that was there too), brought together a diversity of work from artists around the world. The organisers made an effort to promote the artists and their work, which was separated from the scientific examples, but by now there was a public credibility gap. Visitors expected to be amazed, once again, by the visual fidelity of three-dimensional images 'floating' in space. Not all of the participating artists obliged. Some were 'painting' in three-dimensional space, with pure light. Others were distorting time, cutting up space, addressing conceptual incongruities, highlighting sexual stereotypes, exploring sculptural space with holograms and holographic space with sculpture. Some holograms were shallow, others were dim. On the whole they were not the large, clear, solid looking tea cups and telephones people had grown to love and expect. In the visual arts there appears to be a general feeling that holography is a commercial gimmick and many artists using it have jumped onto a technology bandwagon, either to attract attention, earn large amounts of money in a commercial market or replace the content of their work with an optical effect which is intriguing. To a degree this is true, but it only appears unsavoury because of the unfamiliarity of holography compared to more traditional media. There are many holography galleries now established around the world and most have their 'holoshops' stocked with low price mass produced holograms and trinkets. The proximity of these to the featured exhibition often makes it difficult to decide where the shop finishes and the exhibition begins. Granted few of the galleries have the knowledge, vision, finance, altruism or desire to search out truly creative work. They have commercial restrictions which determine their existence. Granted most commercial holography is designed to sell in quantity and is therefore like any other business, but holography is not isolated in this respect. It is a fact that there are more generally accepted 'good' works in other media, which have a pedigree of historical development on which to stand. With holography a cursory glance seems to indicate that the commercial side has developed before the artistic side. They are in fact developing together but when millions of holograms are distributed in books, on magazines and credit cards, the impression they make swamps the creative work by artists. Critics of holography will point out that if the creative work had any inherent quality, the commercial side would not be a distraction, but novelty is a powerful factor. The impression that there is little or no pioneering creative work by artists is not a surprising one. Where, after all, do you go to see it if it exists? Traditional galleries and other visual art venues are reluctant to show holography for several reasons. Their curators have a fixed idea about holography (clever gimmick) which can be hopelessly misinformed. It is thought that installation is difficult, expensive and possibly dangerous. And the market is extremely limited. Some gallery directors have attempted to overcome the prevailing prejudice and show small collections of work without the 'medicine show' mentality. Work by an international selection of independent artists was included in the 'Craft of Art' at the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (1979) and the Photographers Gallery, London, provided a chance to see a selection of international work in 'Light Years Ahead' (1980). Since then touring exhibitions of holograms produced in Britain (Goldsmith's College) have found audiences at places like the Orchard Gallery, Derry and the Glynn Vivian Gallery, Swansea, while the Canadian Cultural Centre, London, put together an exhibition of work by Canadian artists which toured Britain. The Canadian show threw up an unexpected and encouraging event. There was heated discussion, when the show started to tour, about one of the holograms in terms of what it stood for, rather than its dimensional impact. The piece by Michael Sowdon entitled Eat the Rich showed those words luminous inside the holographic plate with a swastika and commonly used expletive painted graffiti-like onto the surface. When the show reached Darlington there was concern by the gallery directors and the local council about whether the piece should remain in the show. After much discussion it did, but with the ' . . . some works in this exhibition may offend. . .'type of statement at the entrance. In Wolverhampton some members of the public complained and in Nottingham the gallery simply removed the piece after the opening. Other pieces in the exhibition were perhaps more offensive to a greater number of people had they looked closely enough. La Nuit des Morts vivants, also by Sowdon, consisted of an installation with nine holograms and fifteen acrylic paintings. The holograms showed stylised 'Zombies' and the paintings depicted images from old horror films and a board game called 'Dawn of the Dead'. Some were violent images: people stabbed with trowels; women about to be mutilated. In the context of the work this was justified, commenting as it did on the onslaught of random meaningless violence which we see reported every day. No one complained because it is unlikely that anyone really looked at the paintings, they were engrossed with the holograms. The visual impact of holograms must not be underestimated. Holograms by artists are beginning to appear alongside other contemporary works without hype and thus are easier to assess in terms of their effectiveness as vehicles for expression. They have appeared in the annual New Contemporaries student show and there was one in 'Works for Shelves' at Kettle's Yard last year, when they were also included in a survey show of British photography at the V & A. Modern holography is a mere 24 years old and there are artists who have a body of work spanning almost 20 of those years. The British artist Margaret Benyon began experimenting with the process on an arts fellowship in 1968, when it was neither useful nor easy to be associated with. Over the years her work has developed, as have her aesthetics. She has, like many others working in the field, been able to address concerns beyond the technology, with a body of political and social statements which cannot be glibly dismissed as a clever gimmick. Her first solo shows, including holograms, took place between 1969 and 1971 at Nottingham University Art Gallery. She showed at the Lisson Gallery in London during 1970 and at the Richard Demarco Gallery, Edinburgh, in 1972 but since then has not had a solo show in Britain, even though she has been working with the medium consistently since the late 1960s. It appears that the swing towards traditionalism has not only affected the traditional media in Britain. All of Benyon's solo shows during the last 10 years have been mounted outside the UK: Sydney, Melbourne, New York, Paris and Toronto. Like many working in the medium, her pieces can be visually complex, with implications much more extensive than the popular holographic novelties. Tiresius, now in the V & A collection, shows the dimensional head and upper chest of a man and woman occupying each other's space. Each figure is contoured with lines, a product of movement when the holograms were made, which produces a graphic and direct link between motion and emotion. The more tense or active the person the more their heart pumps, resulting in greater movement of the body. Neither male nor female is dominant, they are part of each other (dimensionally) and combine to produce an initially confusing luminous figure. Moving around in front of the piece, viewing it from different angles, helps to sift out the individuals held in the holographic space and so produce something which oscillates from female to male with a linking androgynous stage. In her more recent Cosmetic Series, which currently contains seven pieces and continues to develop, she has combined a personal statement about ageing and her position in society as a female artist, with broader aspects of packaging and the modern urban industrial society. The pieces consist of holographic portraits of young women, their faces 'painted' with cosmetics to make themselves beautiful. Several of the holograms are displayed with paintings behind them showing some aspect of the cosmetic markings emphasised by brush strokes and the quality of paint on a flat surface. It is possible to look through the transparent three-dimensional portrait to the painting behind. The harshness of the hologram becomes softened by the familiarity of the painted image, each combining to make something which is neither painting or hologram. She admits that some of the pieces are on the edge of kitsch, but that may be just the element which will help attract the attention of an audience surrounded by commercial holographic kitsch. She points to people like Mary Kelly whose treatment of the female preoccupation with ageing in pieces like Interim, and her use of humour help make the work enjoyable to a wide audience. When the Cosmetic Series was exhibited it became apparent to Benyon that the male counterparts were required, and these are currently being planned to continue the theme. It is unfortunate that once completed, the series, which is more concerned with human values than holography, will probably still be interpreted by the majority as a clever technical demonstration. There has always been a reluctance in the UK to accept creative works which are obviously technical, because they are difficult to deal with. There seems to be an in-built dislike for anything with a plug on it. Take for example Bill Culbert's exhibition at the ICA last year. His sculptures using found objects and light bulbs prompted an interesting reaction which was neither overtly dismissive nor encouraging. The work was on a dangerous knife edge, which all work of quality and integrity should attempt. Some of the pieces had pushed the concepts to the limits and explored new ground with great sophistication. There was little general criticism of the work in case it was pioneering genius, neither was it over applauded in case it wasn't. Work with light, or obviously technical processes, appears to be relegated, seen as a temporary phase of expression rather than a body of work which can challenge and question like other media or styles of expression. The Tate Gallery closed its kinetics gallery almost five years ago and has no plans to reinstate it. Holography suffers not only from traditional prejudices and its association with the advanced technology of optical imaging, but a common view of what it should be. Not all holography is framed and hung on a wall. Not all is three-dimensional and none of it can project a walking, talking, full colour image into the centre of the room. Artists around the world have produced abstract works, built large colour environments and designed huge conceptual/environmental pieces which begin to highlight, break down, distort and reassess accepted visual values. One piece, by the American artist Rick Silberman, is an installation the size of the USA. He positioned a number of holographic plates at locations throughout the States. When illuminated by sunlight, each plate produced a line which in theory, extended to infinity The holographic lines were designed to coincide at a point high above America producing a massive conceptual structure space. Holograms are no longer respected icons from the laboratory, but have been placed in the real world where they have been violated in an attempt to explore their function and how it might be used. There is a competitive international body of artists working with, and developing holography. Some have their own studios, others collaborate with industry or commerce for access to the medium. An awareness of its creative potential becoming public, albeit slowly. It is even being considered in art colleges. The Royal College of Art has already invested substantial amounts of money an resources to build an holography facility. Within the degree show this summer some truly creative holograms were on show The work ranged from self-conscious seriousness, through abstract colour pieces to intelligent and succinct visual statement One of the students received a 10,000., award to set up his own business. Several of the degree show pieces reached a different audience in an exhibition at London's Diorama in October. Meanwhile Liverpool Polytechnic has had an holography facility in its sculpture department for several years. It is modest compared to that of the RCA but has been able too demonstrate that vast resources and financing are not a prerequisite for holography facilities. The fact that the V & A has begun to collect holography produced by artists suggests the emergence of serious interest in an archival environment. In the United States there has been a Museum of Holography collecting creative work since 1977. They have as an archive some of the most significant developmental pieces in display holography since its invention. The public and private collections of holography cannot bestow credibility on the medium, but through purchases they provide the artists with finance to continue while their exhibitions allow viewers to form opinions based on pieces which might not be commercial enough to appear in other profit-lead galleries and shops. In any creative medium financial support is important in allowing recipients to pursue new work or simply survive. Last year the American Shearwater Foundation handed out huge financial awards to six artists working with holography ($10,000 each) in recognition of their pioneering contribution to its creative development. There is an underlying hope that such recognition will help establish a quality of work to which others might aspire. The artists came from America, Holland, Venezuela, and Britain (Margaret Benyon). With such financial commitment and six further awards made this year, to artists in Japan, America and West Germany, they appear to be taking the medium very seriously. Over the past few years institutions and groups have provided artist-in-residence placements to help the development of work and ideas, and even the Arts Council of Great Britain offered holography bursaries in 1982. Holography will always have to compete for critical attention with well established media. The number of people using it intelligently, compared to workers in other media, is minute, but there is a growing awareness and sensitivity for their work. It offers the ability to record and manipulate space in its own terms. That is a phenomenon by which many people are threatened. Holography is young enough not to have many rules associated with it. The unfortunate thing is that by the time it becomes more acceptable as a creative medium, it will be cluttered and obstructed by its own vocabulary and subsequent rules. The first artists to commit themselves to holography may well have had to struggle and be constantly ignored, but they have had the unique opportunity to explore a medium before the barriers of acceptability and complacency become fixed. Published in Art Monthly Magazine, December/January 1988/89, No 122, pp 9-13. Reproduced with permission. Return to main articles listing.
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Holography, Visual Medium or Cheap Trick?