These latter-day expressions of spiritual involvement are not repudiations of the multiple worlds engaged in Slavin’s earlier work—the worlds of national parks, public transportation, the Stock Exchange, cemeteries, zoos, burlesque shows, and myriad others. In one way or another they are part of the world in which humankind has existed in recent times—to be honored as such, and well beyond what any one person is able to experience. The irony, of course, is that we all live in a world, and a universe, that we know very little about. There is constantly more to know, and more that we will never know.

 

 

For Slavin, as for all of us, his journey of discovery began in childhood. But it uniquely intensified with his development as a photographer, particularly from 1972 on, when he began to use color film almost exclusively, realizing that color provides much more information than black-and-white. One of the early photos in the show, from 1973, Staten Island Ferry Crew, views one end of the Governor Herbert H. Lehman ferry, the crew standing across the bow, as the boat pulls away from the pier. In a way, this represents the beginning of Slavin’s journey into the world, into the harbor that has embraced so much of the world. In the middle of the harbor is the Statue of Liberty, the great monument to that embrace, which Slavin also photographed in 1973. He views members of the Liberty Island staff standing along the reverse perspective of the monumental base wall, behind which rises the lady with the torch into a magnificent white cloud in a deep blue sky.

 

 

There are probably more photographs of the Statue of Liberty than any other subject in the world. It is a cliché, I suppose, but maybe more like an old, irresistible, wise saying. For Slavin, it is part of his burgeoning exploration of the world at the time, everything from subway workers at Coney Island Station, to Sabrett hot dog vendors, to the Troc Burlesque Theatre in Philadelphia, to workers among the graves of Ridgewood Cemetery in Queens, to an awe-inspiring view of the Grand Canyon with its National Park staff line up along the great cliff.

New York Stock Exchange, 1986.
15 x 24 inch
digital chromogenic print.

 

 

Photography is, in a sense, a technological continuation in the history of spatial perception that began with the emergence of one-point perspective in early 15th- century Italy. Everything within the line of sight of the camera lens (the eye of the photographer) is available to be included in that structure, and so an enormous sensibility can be involved in resolving the collusion of elements. It is the nature of Slavin’s work to accomplish both structure and multiplicity, what the world eternally affords us. Our lives are shadowed by everything and everyone around us, as the custodial staff lined up horizontally in front of the ancient monument of Stonehenge is shadowed by the great stones behind them and the dark clouds above.

A photograph of Slavin’s not in the show expresses the extent to which he understands we are alone, or at least within ourselves, as much as being so much part of the world around us. The eye of a young woman, manakin or not, peers out through a small hole ripped in a white sheet of plastic that has been placed over her head to protect her from the rain. This is the shadow, the otherness that stays with us, and what the photographer returns to look into.

Exhibition of 38 color photographs by Neal Slavin at

Laurence Miller Gallery, 20 W. 57th St., New York, NY,

November 10--December 23, 2016