The Photography of Robert Ogle

Desolation Row

What do you get when you transplant a native Minnesotan to the lush life of the streets of Paris?

You get someone who brings the cold with him.

Photographer Robert Ogle found himself drawn to living here and set out to illustrate the works of Walter Benjamin, the German theologian and philosopher (1892 - 1940). He poo-poos this idea now as perhaps pretentious and if there's anything that Robert is not, it is pretentious.

He doesn't glorify, idealize, pander to the Paris's past, even that of Montmartre where he lives, because he is just a plain-speaking man from Fargo, North Dakota, with a great eye and "un talent fou." An intellectual in spite of himself, he teaches photography part-time at the American University of Paris.

Robert Ogle takes his camera with him and has an unerring eye for street life and the odd reflection in a shop window. Take a look at the photo above. Now take another look. I have exhibited his photographs here twice, have collected them for three years, and know that there is an endless satisfaction in seeing something new every time. And also that his photos have increased in value (!)

Walter Benjamin writes: "Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector's passion borders on the chaos of memories."

Perhaps that's it. Looking at his work I see the loneliness of childhood long ago, but also longing, decay, desolation. He says "I want art to change my life. Or change the world."

Just around the corner

How I met Geneviève Flament

I was having a drink on the rue des Abbesses with photographer Robert Ogle, who lives just a few blocks from me in a charming out-of-the-way passage that is charming and countrified. He rolled a cigarette, eyed a young blonde at the next table, and asked for a light. Her companion was an older gentleman who turned out to be her father. We four got to talking: when I revealed that I show artists in my home gallery, the young girl, Juliette, piped up, "My mother is an artist!"

Uh-oh. That's what they all say.

But then, did I not come to show an excellent painter named Monique Hospital in the early days of chez Grace just by the persistence of her daughter Florence who came to the vernissages and each time implored me to look at her mother's work. She emailed me, sent the link to her mom's website, and invited me to her atelier.

Persistence counts.

And passion. So Juliette and her mom showed up at the next vernissage that rolled around, the group show in April, and the next one too. I think I am too influenced now by Facebook, and think that I can judge a book by its cover, but these days more and more I am taken in by a person's looks. And this woman had the sweetest face, with sincere dark eyes and a gentleness about her. And a humility that I found very appealing next to my own monstrous ego.

Last week I made it over to her studio. It is just around the corner. She showed me her latest paintings and explained that she will be included in a book that will come out next September. I had pretty much already made up my mind to include her in the next show, but seeing her dreamy meditations on nature made me feel like I was walking on air the way back to my place.

Pictured: "Cascade," acrylic on canvas. 130 cm. x 81 cm.